Page 97 of One Foggy Christmas
His eyes flick to the dance floor, where Nash stomps around in a circle, holding hands. “No, but I can answer yes if you want me to.”
I should tell him to lie like I did, put a final stamp on my heart that everything between us is over, but I don’t.
“Do you remember the one Fezziwig’s Ball we went to?”
“How could I forget? You shoved your tongue down my throat in the coat closet. I didn’t know people could kiss like that. It totally freaked me out.”
He laughs. “I wasn’t very smooth back then.”
“And are you now?” My gaze holds his.
“I thought so until you left me for another guy.”
Everything about me plummets. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Like I said the other night, I could’ve done things differently. I should have put you first more instead of taking for granted that you’d always be there.”
“Regrets are the worst, aren’t they?” I blow out a breath, feeling the weight of so many decisions I don’t remember making but still regret.
“You know what I really regret?” He smiles. “That I didn’t dance with you that night at the ball.”
“You were too worried about setting up our kiss in the coat closet.”
“I guess so.” His eyes stare into mine, and like it’s fate, the music changes—violins playing something slow. Stetson holds out his hand. “Should we rewrite history?”
There’s nothing I’ve wanted more since I woke up from my coma.
I slip my hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet and out to the dance floor. One hand goes to my waist as the other holds mine in the air between us. I place my fingers on his shoulder, barely touching him. Slowly, he waltzes us around the dance floor.
I’ve danced with Stetson at every school dance since I was a teenager. We didn’t typically dance like this, but the whole thing feels natural and familiar—something I’ve been missing the last few weeks.
As the music continues, his hold around my waist gets tighter, and our bodies effortlessly move closer, our chests skimming each other. I should look away from his blue eyes, but I can’t. His stare stirs up feelings that I want to feel.
“Hey, man.” Nash taps Stetson’s shoulder. “That’s my wife.”
The entire room can probably hear my racing heart over the music as I glance between the only two men who have ever owned my heart.
Nash steps forward, exuding confidence and territorial claim. “I’m cutting in.”
“Of course.” Stetson drops his arms, stepping back from my body. He gestures to me. “She’s all yours.”
And it’s those exact words that break my heart as Stetson walks away.
NASH
Orange,red, and yellow flames sway together, funneling up to the moonlit sky. If I squint my eyes, the bonfire looks like it’s in the middle of Skaneateles Lake instead of on the edge of the Bradleys’ property.
I take another long and slow sip of my drink, letting the strong liquid burn my throat as it goes down. I’m not trying to get drunk, but I’m definitely trying to take away the constant, dull ache that’s been in my chest all night at the ball.
Who am I kidding?
That ache took residence in my heart the moment Sadie looked at me in the hospital with void and hollow eyes.
“I saw the fire out here and thought I’d come join you.” Jay pulls up a camp chair beside me. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course.” I smile up at him. “It’s your house. I’m just enjoying the scenic view.”
He grunts as he lowers into the chair. “This has always been one of my favorite things to do. Nothing like a lakeside fire on a cold winter’s night.”
