Page 91 of Finding the Pieces

“They said this was for beginners,” I hiss under my breath, nearly tripping over Ellie for the third time.

“Babe, I don’t know how much simpler they can break down the steps.” She giggles. “Here, follow my lead.”

Closing the space between us, she steps into me, aligning our bodies. Her head rests against my chest, and I feel her relax, causing my muscles to do the same.

“I’m pretty sure we’re still messing up the steps,” I say softly as we melt into less structured movement, abandoning any turns altogether.

“Maybe I like improvising with you,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to my neck.

“Doesn’t sound so hard when you put it like that,” I murmur.

“It might be difficult while we find our footing,” she says, pulling back to lock her gaze on mine. “But when you’re holding me, even the wrong steps feel safe.”

“We’ll make our own steps, yeah? Who says what the wrong steps are anyway?”

“You’re doing it wrong,” the brash instructor interrupts us, forcing Ellie to stifle a snort-laugh. “Horrible, just horrible form. Complete lost cause.”

The instructor’s critiques draw my parents’ attention, who don’t seem dismayed or deterred by our apparent lack of talent. Dad throws me an exaggerated thumbs-up and Mom puts a hand over her heart like she’s overwhelmed at the sight of Ellie and I, like it’s cute and we’re not being berated for sucking at this.

I guess the people who love you don’t care when you don’t do things the right way. They just want to see you try.

Chapter forty-nine

Dom

“Do you want me to wish you a happy birthday, or would you prefer I ruin it by singing to you instead?” Ellie asks as she cuddles in close, one leg wrapping over my thigh, and her hand snaking around my waist.

I love waking up like this.

I hum, relaxing into a slow stretch of my muscles to shake off the fog of sleep. “You know your husband. I want the fanfare. Give me fireworks, Ellie.”

“Fresh out of fireworks, I’m afraid,” she says with a giggle, nuzzling her cheek further into my chest.

I reach her hip and pull her closer, catching her surprised gasp in a lazy kiss. She melts in my arms.

“Little liar. It’s always fireworks with you.”

Her shy smile looks familiar and new all at once. It touches her eyes, and it’s like I’m watching the Ellie I met a lifetime ago come back to herself.

“Happy thirtieth,” she says. “Now give me the full inventory. How bad is it? Muscle aches? Heel spurs? Did you throw your back out with that stretch a minute ago? What’s the damage?”

“Oh, ha-ha. You just wait…two years, and you’ll be right here with me.”

Her laughter fades and her eyes shine in the early morning sun cutting through the room. “Yeah, I will be.”

I hold her jaw and roll her onto her back, taking her in another slow kiss, soaking up every second of her undivided attention. She opens for me—thighs and lips—and moans. Her fingernails drag up my back and I drive my hips between hers.

“I’m curious to see what it’s like to drive a vintage car,” she says breathless against my lips, barely able to contain her laughter as her hips roll to meet mine. “I’m pretty good with stick shift. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

“Someone woke up spicy today,” I say against her neck, before trailing kisses across her collarbone. Her hands weave into my hair.

“You said you wanted fireworks.”

“Is that why I’m being roasted?”

“Precisely.”

“Remind me to be careful what I wish for when I blow out the candles this year.”

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