Page 20 of Where She Belongs
I spin her gently, bringing her back against me as the music swells. “More than convincing,” I admit. “Look at Dax and Harlow—they can’t take their eyes off us.”
And it’s true. Our friends are watching with expressions that range from confusion to knowing smiles, as if they’re witnessing a revelation that’s been obvious to everyone but us. Tyler’s parents are nudging each other, whispering behind their hands while sneaking glances our way.
As the drums quicken, I place my hands on Andrea’s shoulders, feeling the delicate bones beneath my fingers. I can feel her muscles relaxing under my touch, her shoulders dropping slightly from the rigid posture she’s maintained since the airport.
With me, she seems different than she is with others—less guarded than with her colleagues, more relaxed than with her parents. I’ve always been able to make her laugh when no one else could. It’s a privilege I’ve never examined too closely until now—this unique space I occupy in her life where she shows sides of herself others rarely see.
And God help me, but I want more than glimpses.
The realization hits me with the force of those drums, reverberating through my chest. This woman who has been a constant in my life for a decade, who has seen me at my best and worst, whose opinion matters more than anyone else’s—I’ve been circling her all this time without admitting why.
Andrea turns, her back against my chest, moving in perfect harmony with me. When did we learn each other’s rhythms so completely? The scent of her perfume—something floral and subtle that I’ve caught hints of before but never allowed myself to truly notice—envelops me, making my head spin.
Could Simon have been right? Have I been in love with her all this time without admitting it to myself?
The thought terrifies me, even as something settles into place, like the final piece of a puzzle I didn’t know I was solving.
She turns to face me then, breaking into a triumphant smile as she nails a complicated hip movement. For a split second, our eyes lock, and something in her expression shifts—a flicker of awareness, perhaps, or just gratitude for my steadying presence. Whatever it is, it makes my heart stutter in my chest.
I open my mouth, not sure what I’m about to say, but knowing with sudden certainty that something important is happening between us—something that deserves acknowledgment. Before I can find the words, before I can even begin to untangle the complicated web of emotions tightening around my heart, a commotion beside us breaks the spell.
As if on cue in some poorly scripted drama, Simon and Kitty insert themselves beside us, their movements exaggerated, and it’s clear they’re angling for the attention of the crowd and cameras. I watch as Andrea’s smile tightens, her shoulders tensing visibly. That spark of joy I’d been basking in justmoments before vanishes from her expression, replaced by the composed mask she wears whenever Simon is around.
Not happening. Not on my watch.
I guide her into an impromptu spin and a dip—definitely not traditional hula, but it feels right in the moment. Her startled gasp dissolves into a genuine laugh that reverberates through my chest where her body presses against mine. When I pull her back up, her eyes meet mine with a brightness I haven’t seen in months, maybe longer. The woman who carefully measures every reaction around Simon is gone, replaced by someone unguarded, luminous.
Take that, Simon.
The music swells around us as we return to the proper steps, our bodies finding a natural rhythm together. Andrea’s hair brushes against my jaw as she sways, and I’m enveloped in that scent I’ve noticed a hundred times without truly acknowledging—jasmine with subtle notes of coconut, and something uniquely her. It’s the same scent that lingered in my car after driving her home from late grant-writing sessions, that drifted across the table during our weekend brunches at Frontier.
When did that scent become so familiar? When did I start anticipating it?
By the time the music ends, we’re both flushed and breathless, caught in a moment neither of us seems ready to break. The applause around us shatters the spell, bringing us back to reality—to the wedding, the guests, the performance we’re supposed to be giving.
Back at our table, Andrea’s fingers find mine under the tablecloth. She squeezes my hand, her voice low and intimate. “Thank you.”
I return the pressure, trying not to overthink the way her hand fits in mine like it was designed to be there. “Anytime.”
And I mean it with a fierceness that startles me. I’d do anything to protect that spark in her eyes, to stand between her and Simon’s attempts to diminish her. I’d cross oceans, battle dragons, make a complete fool of myself on a Hawaiian dance floor—whatever it takes.
It’s what friends do.
Isn’t it?
The walk back to our suite feels different after the hula dance. Maybe it’s the lingering effects of the piña coladas, or the way Andrea stays close to my side as we navigate the torch-lit path, her hand tucked in mine like it belongs there. The ocean breeze carries the scent of plumeria, mixing with her perfume in a way that makes my head spin.
Or maybe it’s just her.
“You’re quiet,” she says as we reach the elevator. Her silk dress rustles as she leans against the wall, and I find myself tracking the movement with my eyes.
“Just thinking about the evening so far,” I reply. “I think we managed it quite well.”
“Managed it?” Andrea raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
The elevator doors slide open, and we step inside. As they close, sealing us in this small space, the air feels charged with something I can’t quite name.
“Well, we didn’t cause a scene,” I offer, trying to keep my tone light. “No one threw drinks or stormed off in tears. By wedding standards, I’d call that a success.”
