Page 125 of No Rings Attached
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “One, two, three. Follow me.” I was grateful to the ballroom dance lessons Glamma had us all take.
Ellie’s eyes locked on mine. The panic softened into determination. She stumbled again, but I steadied her and spun her just enough to make her laugh.
Then she missed a step completely and landed on my foot. Hard.
I groaned.
“Sorry!” she mouth, mortified.
“Don’t be. I have another foot.”
Her giggle broke through the tension, and suddenly she wasn’t flailing—she was trying.
We moved across the floor, my whispered counts and gentle nudges guiding her. She wasn’t graceful, but she wasallin. Her hair slipped from its clip, curls bouncing against her cheeks, and when she smiled, the whole room tilted.
“Woo! You two are on fire!” Glamma hollered, snapping pictures of every step.
Ellie blushed, nearly slowing down at the distraction. I dipped her low enough to make her squeal, then pulled her back upright, steady and safe.
She curtsied. I bowed. And the room applauded. I hadn’t realized everyone had been watching us. I’d been so focused on Ellie.
Ellie stood taller and took the applause in stride. For once, she wasn’t shrinking under Celia’s glare. She was glowing.
“Excellent job, everyone!” Dee clapped. “Let’s get in place for the hip hop section. Any questions about the choreography I emailed?”
Ellie raised her hand. “I never got that email.” Her voice was polite, but her eyes shifted to her sister. “Celia, maybe you can forward it to me?”
A crack flickered in Celia’s mask before she slapped on her pageant smile. “Of course. Must’ve been a glitch.”
Ellie didn’t apologize. Didn’t cover for her sister. She stood firm.
My chest squeezed with pride.
Music thumped. Everyone hit their marks. Ellie froze, eyes wide.
I slid behind her, hands at her hips. “Like this,” I whispered, guiding her sway.
“Not helping,” she responded, stepping the wrong way and smacking into my chest.
“Definitely helping.” I grinned.
Next move, she stomped on my toe again.
“Pretty sure I’m concussed in my foot now,” I muttered.
She laughed so loud half the room glanced over, and for the first time, Ellie didn’t shrink from the attention. “How do you know this dance?”
I glanced at Glamma. “Blame her. She wouldn’t leave my office one day until I tried it with her for her channel.”
Ellie’s mood was a mess, her timing off—but she owned every mistake. By the third round she was laughing at herself, and the rest of the group relaxed laughing at theirs, too. The mood had shifted.
Except for Celia, whose permanent scowl deepened with every cheer or encouragement Ellie got.
“Come on, Ellie,” Glamma shouted, now bouncing her own hips, her phone filming the chaos. “Give ‘em the shimmy!”
Ellie snorted mid-step and completely lost the beat, dissolving into helpless laughter. I couldn’t stop myself from joining her.
By the fourth run-through, the entire wedding party was having fun—bumping into each other, exaggerating their worst moves, laughing, even Constance and George cracked a smile. And somehow Ellie had become the center of it—not by being perfect, but by being real.
