But there hasn’t been a single day that has passed where I haven’t thought about him at least once.
“Your champs, madam,” Johnathan says, returning with two flutes filled to the top with golden bubbly.
“You’re the best.” I take one and we ‘cheers’ before taking sips. The strap of my dress falls down my shoulder for the millionth time tonight, and the sequins that cover the bodice keep digging into the skin beneath my arms, leaving red marks.
Needless to say, this isn’t a dress of my choosing, but given the fact that I’ve been away the last few months, my mother saw an opportunity and wasted no time seizing it.
“Johnathan!” His mother, Clarice, calls to him from across the room, waving him over. She must want to introduce him to someone.
“Time to be Mama’s Golden Child,” he says, tossing back the rest of his champagne. “When I get back, we’re Electric Sliding all over that dance floor.”
I laugh. “I doubt that song’s even on the set list.”
He shrugs. “So? We’ll Electric Slide to Al Green if we have to. Be right back …”
I sip my champagne and stare out the windows, to a midnight-black skyline peppered with the biggest snowflakes I’ve ever seen, turning downtown Chicago into a winter wonderland of sorts.
On the dance floor, Laurel and Eben are linking arms and twirling and laughing while the live band sings, “Shake Your Groove Thang.” She’s barefoot, laughing as he spins her around.
That’s what love should be right there—easy, simple, uncomplicated. Fun.
I hope my brother realizes how lucky he is to have found someone who wants to be with him as much as he wants to be with her.
Turning back to the window beside our table, I toss back the remains of my Cristal and gaze at the snowy kingdom outside. Johnathan’s elbow deep in some conversation with his mother and a few of her friends, so it would seem our Electric Slide is on hold for the time being. Placing my empty flute toward the center of the table, I turn around to scan the room for another server because the night is young and I’m not driving.
I spot one about ten feet away with a tray full of freshly poured champagne.
Rising, I gather my skirt in my hands and turn to catch the guy before he gets away—only to find myself face to face with a different guy.
“Oh my God.” I lift my fingers to my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
Madden Ransom stands before me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking every bit as casually gorgeous as he always has.
My heart stops, skips, and skids, and I swear the room gets ten degrees hotter.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
“Now?!” I scan the room. Everyone’s doing their own thing, in their own little bubbles.
“Yes, now. I’ve waited almost four damn months to talk to you.” He hooks his hand around my elbow and navigates us around, through, and between dozens of round tables covered in white table clothes, dyed roses, and shimmering candles until we find a quiet spot in the hall outside the ballroom.
Before he says a word, his eyes fall to my stomach. I wonder how much he knows?
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
An older couple, likely from Laurel’s side of the guest list, walk past us, their narrowed gazes lingering on Madden in his ripped jeans.
“You didn’t keep it,” he says as soon as they’re out of earshot.
“Not because I didn’t want it.”
His jaw flexes. “Great, so you let your parents make that decision for you too?”
I want to slap him. “It wasn’t a viable pregnancy. I lost it.”
Scoffs. “That’s not what your dad told me, but then again, he isn't the most honest man, is he?”
“What are you talking about?” I fold my arms across my chest. It’s chillier out here than it is in the ballroom, and a spray of goose bumps covers my bare skin. Still, I feel none of it.
“There’s so much I have to tell you.” His dark eyes are wild, excited almost, and he begins to say something until the double doors leading out of the ballroom swing open and out walks my father with two security guards in tow.
“That’s the one,” he says, pointing to Madden.
“No, wait.” I step between them, but my father pulls me away.
“I want him out of here. Immediately,” my father says, pointing. “Brighton, get back inside.”
Madden looks to me before lifting his palms and walking away before the guards can lay a hand on him. A moment later, the three of them disappear into an elevator.
“Why did you do that?” I ask.
“He had no business being here,” he says, practically spitting his words. “And how did he even know you were here?”
I have no idea, but I’m sure I’d have found out if he hadn’t interrupted us. Madden was about to tell me something, and by the incited look on his face, I imagine that something was big.
“Have you been in contact with him again?” he asks. “Since you’ve been home?”
“No.”
He studies me, like he doesn’t believe a word of it. My mother appears in her shimmery baby-blue mother-of-the-groom gown and asks what’s going on.
I shoot my father a look before giving her a simple answer. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
And then I return to the ballroom to find Johnathan.
“Dance with me,” I say as the band begins to play an Al Green song. If I’m on the dance floor with him, in front of hundreds of friends and family, my parents won’t dare make a scene. And while dancing isn’t my favorite thing in the world, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to avoid my parents the rest of the night.
I press my cheek against Johnathan’s suit jacket and breathe in his unfamiliar cologne. Sometimes I wonder if we’d have ended up together if he weren’t gay. We get along so well, like we have an unspoken language. And it speaks volumes that we can go years without seeing each other and pick up right where we left off.
But alas, it was never meant to be.
With my hands on his shoulders, I can’t get comfortable. It’s like his height is all wrong for me. He isn’t tall like Madden. The top of my head doesn’t fit perfectly beneath his chin like it did with Madd. And his shoulders are narrower, not nearly as substantial as Madden’s were.
I’m not sure why I’m comparing the two right now. It’s a pointless endeavor all around.
A new song begins a few minutes later, this one peppier, and it draws more people to the dance floor. Johnathan twirls me under his arm, laughing, not a care in the world. I try to place myself back in this moment. I try to enjoy being surrounded by friends and family and the kinds of things that symbolize love …
But it’s hard to be here when my heart is somewhere else.
We dance to two more songs before I pull him to an uncrowded corner and tell him I’m leaving.
“If my parents ask where I am, can you cover for me?” I ask, scanning the room to make sure they’re not watching me like hawks.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
I rise on my toes, kissing his cheek. “I’ll tell you everything later. I promise.”
Fifty-Four