Page 65 of Bronson

My breath catches in my throat. She’s stunning.

I suddenly feel silly. Underdressed. Mary, sensing my urge to run, places a motherly hand on my elbow. “Isn’t she just a sight for sore eyes? And I’ll bet her face lights up like a Christmas tree when she sees you. Three… two… one…”

As if by magic, Paige turns her face my way at that very moment. As Mary predicted, her face brightens as if a light has turned on within her.

I hold the box out toward her as she approaches. Tongue tied, out of my element and on her turf for the first time, I say, “A gift.”

“Oh, Brauny. These are absolutely adorable.” She goes to lift one of the pigs by the head. It detaches from its round little body, exposing the cash. Her wide eyes search mine.

“A little IOU from a company that was cashing forged checks from elderly people who were living in nursing homes. Much like this one,” I explain.

She gives me a devious smile. “I love it.”

A criminal after my own heart.

Beside me, Mary clears her throat. Paige and I turn toward her. She holds her hand out to Paige. “Mary Bachman. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Bronson here showed up at my doorstep at nine oh five this morning, demanding to be taught how to bake a pineapple upside down cake.”

“Twenty of them,” I chime in. Who the hell am I becoming? My hand goes to the back of my neck.

Mary shakes Paige’s hand. Her eye catches the ring Paige wears.

Mary discreetly nudges me in the ribs.

Paige is drawn away by one of her co-workers—a pulled pork emergency. Mary whispers in my ear, “The ring? Your mother’s? This must be serious.”

I watch Paige walk away. The yellow dress swishes back and forth behind her knees. For the first time in my adult life, I feel weak, powerless. I answer Mary, “It is. It is.”

Later that night, Paige teaches me the foxtrot, the cha-cha, the lindy jive. All dances that she has learned from her family, as she endearingly refers to her patients.

Ingrid claps along with the music, her eyes shining as Paige and I dance. An electric current runs between our two bodies whenever the dance calls for an embrace. I sense they can feel our attraction throughout the room.

Dancing on that floor, seeing the happiness she had brought to the faces of everyone there, I fall even more in love with her.

Her ring sparkles beneath the lights as we twirl.

My heart feels as if it will burst. The words press against my lips, no longer willing to be held in. “I love you, Paige.”

Her mouth forms an ‘o’ of surprise. She stops dancing, her hands hovering in mine.

Panic, like lightning, flashes through me. Have I misspoken? Spoken too soon? Is saying I love you so much different than saying I’m falling in love with you? Apparently, it is.

I watch, shocked, as she turns and flees from the room.

I’m immediately accosted by Ms. Beeman. “What’d you do to our Paigey, you… you big buffoon?” she demands.

I shrug, helpless. “I told her I love her?”

“Oh. Well, she’s just got a case of the cold feet. So what are you doing standing here? Go on after her!” For a woman well into her nineties, she gives me a good push.

If the brotherhood could see me now. I’d never live this down.

I rush after Paige.

I find her in the stairwell, seated on a stair, her head in her hands.

I sit beside her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. I love her so much in that moment, I don’t even care if she loves me back. “Paige,” I begin.

“No one’s ever told me that before,” she says. She’s dabbing at the tears that are brewing in the corners of her eyes.