Page 76 of The Last Dance

‘You make getting engaged sound like a terrible thing. You don’t want to marry Noah? You’ve been together a while now.’

I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t want to marry Noah. I don’t want to marry anyone right now. Plus, we’ve barely been together a year. I read somewhere it takes at least two years to really know someone. I’m definitely not ready for marriage. Not yet. I don’t know if I’m really even ready to move in together…’

‘If you’re not sure, why do it?’ Dad says. ‘That’s a big step.’

I sigh. ‘I feel like Ishouldbe ready? I dunno, I guess we’re at that point in our relationship? I mean, we’d never really talked about it before the other night and then it sort of… happened.’ I shrug, glancing between the two of them. Their faces stone-cold sober. ‘He was so excited that I didn’t feel like I could take it back.’

‘Maybe you need more time to think about it? I’m sure he’d understand.’

‘And if he doesn’t…’ my dad cuts in ‘… then he’s not the right guy for you.’

I nod, forcing an uncomfortable smile. Why is talking to people about your feelings sometimes so difficult?

‘I plan to talk to him about it soon.’

We’re all silent for a moment as everyone lets the moving or not moving in thing sink in. Myself included. It’s been in the back of my mind since it happened.

‘Back to the job thing.’ Mom changes the subject, glancing back down at her list. ‘What about a novelist? You always loved to write. Wouldn’t that be so exciting, to have an author in the family?’ Mom pats Dad’s hand proudly as she moves back to her list.

‘She’d be a hell of a writer.’ He adds to her excitement.

‘Iama writer, guys. That’s my jobnow.’

At least it was.

‘Oh!’ She waves a hand my way. ‘That’s fluff writing and you obsessing over food. You could write the next Stephen King novel! We do love a good crime novel.’

‘Mom, Stephen King doesn’t write crime. He writes horror. You’re reading horror books aloud together as you go to bed.’

I couldn’t even read a Stephen King novel in the daylight, I’m that much of a wimp and yet here are my elderly parents living it up each night reading aloud about things like people wearing other people’s skin and murderous dogs. Sweet and charming on the outside, dark and weird on the inside.

‘Horror, crime, what’s the difference?’

I shake my head with a laugh. God help me that these are two of my favorite people on the planet.

‘I don’twantto write a crime novel. I actually don’t need any ideas at all because I’ve already got one.’

She slaps her notebook closed with a smile. ‘Let’s hear it.’

‘Well… I hope to start my own website and write about local food and music.’ I figured I might as well at least think about what I’d want this website to be now that I’ve nearly committed myself to it.

‘Food and music together?’ Dad asks, an eyebrow raised.

‘No. Well, yes. On the same site but hopefully in two different sections. I don’t really know how it will work yet, but I like promoting local restaurants and I’ve been in contact with Taylor Pearson, the girl—’

‘Oh, my God! Wynne! Taylor Pearson is the darling girl onThe Next Superstar, the one from Portland.’ She turns to me with a grin. ‘You’re going to be famous!’

I shake my head. ‘No.Tayloris gonna be famous. I’ll just be writing about her.’

‘You should have tried out with her. If I remember right you’ve got a lovely voice.’ Dad pats my hand.

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t. That was Rory.’

It’s funny how they think the world works. Like trying out and making it ontoThe Next Superstaris something you decide you want and by golly they better accept you. They did this in grade school when I tried out for the school play. They had me convinced that I was the next Meryl Streep and then I got the part of a squirrel. A freaking squirrel with no lines. Apparently, I was only a good actress at home.

‘Right! Rory had that. Oh, how I miss hearing that sweet voice.’ Dad smiles, his hand now over his heart as he remembers a piece of her. We’ve had time to let go of Rory. But we’ll never forget her. My parents decided after the funeral that they didn’t want to be the kind of family that didn’t speak of the dead. They wanted to keep her memory alive and not turn her name into a bad word. She will always be a piece of us even though she’s not here.

‘How will you build this website?’

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