Page 88 of The Replay

"Appreciate it," he says. "But I'm still figuring out what I want. All I know is I don't think I'll find it here. I never planned to have to flirt and seduce anyone ever again— anyone other than my wife, that is. I can't imagine going down there and finding someone to dance the night away with. I'm way too rusty."

Everyone responds to his words with understated acceptance. They nod with such casual gestures on their face, it's clear they've had conversations about it that I'm not privy to. The man is a widower who, as far as I know, has devoted the past few years to raising his daughter alone. That sounds like the kind of thing that complicates the idea of dating.

It casts a new light on my situation. Sure, I'm leaving. And yeah, I need to be careful not to let my heart get ahead of itself, and ignore the caution labels I've stuck to my memories of Dom. But I have a plan. As long as I follow it, everything will be okay.

"Anyone else for dancing?" Ames asks. "Mariana? How do you feel about finding a dance partner for the night?"

"Oh, no, I'm good," I say. "I'm having fun up here."

"You don't like dancing?" She cocks her head. "I swear, the lot of you are missing out."

"I like dancing," I clarify. "But I don't know how to dance bachata."

"I know someone who could teach you. Dom?" Saint asks. "Friends can teach friends how to dance, and I know you like dancing."

Dom leans back in the poster pose of a man with no worries.

He arches an eyebrow in his friend's direction. "You're going to get yourself in trouble, you know that?"

"Am I? Whatever for?" Saint 's eyebrows rise in confusion. "I am not meddling. I'm just doing the polite thing and making sure to invite my single friends dancing, too."

"Rafa already said no," Evie says with a grin. "But if you both like dancing, you could have fun together. No strings attached."

Dom gives me a quick glance, before he crosses his arms. It's the first sign he'll decline. Good. We're still on the same page, and I don't think we could keep things secret for long if we tried.

"Unless things have changed," Dom says, "Mariana hates being led."

I smirk. Back in college, he insisted on dancing with me. He would hold me close and instruct me to feel him move, and to let my body respond to his. As long as we danced slowly, I could loosen up enough to follow. The moment he sped up or tried to guide me with a flick of his wrist or the curve of his arm, I lost all sense of rhythm. After some time, he gave up trying to teach me, and made the most of it by taking advantage and keeping me extra close, and moving extra slow, regardless of the song.

I shrug. "Dom's right. I don't know how to dance with someone else."

"Wow," Nat says. "Is this metaphorical?"

"It's true," I insist. "I can dance and have a good time and move to the music. The moment I'm supposed to dance with someone else, or follow their moves, or have them try to follow mine, I freeze."

Dom stares at me with intensity. I know what he's thinking— how at the end of those ten months together, we'd found a way to dance together. I mostly did whatever and he adapted. He molded himself to me, and my body melted against him. And the pressure of his arms around me, and his sparkling eyes locked with mine, would make me feel like we swayed on clouds. Lots of laughter, every time. Hours of moving while in each other's arms, gazing at each other lovingly. Such beautiful moments I kept close to my heart.

"There must have been ballroom dancing with the royals," Pen says.

"Ballroom style could never compare," I laugh. "We all know that. I'm not going to dance tonight."

"Maybe you will, Dom?" Saint asks. "It's been a while, after all."

Dom cocks his head. "Are you inviting me to join you two?"

He gets up and approaches them. I perk up. No idea what he's doing, but it's a great diversion.

Dom undoes a couple of buttons at his chest, and adds an extra roll to his sleeves. "I'll be a third wheel and dance with you both. I'll be oblivious to how much you want privacy. I will block your path every time you try to escape to that nook of yours."

Some teasing ooohs and ahhhs pop around me. I don't join them. I'm too busy admiring his long legs and full thighs and ass combo. That confident strut of his. The wide, strong shoulders, and those forearms that could be used as an example in the dictionary entry for the female gaze. Yum.

But Ames' mouth hangs open. Saint's eyes narrow, and his mouth purses in a mix of humor and annoyance.

"You know about the nook?" Ames asks.

"I guess he does," Saint tells her, then to Dom, "but we're not inviting you to dance with us. I thought you liked dancing and you'd want to make the most of the bye week."

"I have my own ways to make the most of the break," Dom says.