This is not a slow song, but my feet find their rhythm as Pat leads us. My body always tuned right into his, as though we both run on some special frequency. Everything and everyone else is simply static.
“I need to cut it,” Pat says.
“What?” I’m tempted to pull back and look at him, but I feel like it would break this spell. Plus, he smells delicious.
“My hair,” he says. “It’s getting to be mullet-level long.”
My fingertips toy with the ends, and Pat shivers at my touch. I smile. “I heard mullets are back in style.”
Pat scoffs. “They were never in style.”
“Take it up with Buzzfeed. Anyway, I like your hair. Gives me something to grab onto.”
He freezes for a beat, and I almost stumble, but he gathers me tighter and keeps us moving. My cheeks flame as I realize how that might have sounded.
“I don’t mean—”
I can’t finish my sentence because Pat pulls me tighter, making the air leave my chest in a quick burst. His mouth dips close, and I feel his hot breath on my ear.
“I know what you want from me, Lindy. But so help me, I’m going to convince you I can give you so much more. By the time my work is done, you will know it’s okay for you to want things, to hope. And when you get them, they aren’t always going to disappear on you. I won’t disappear.”
With that, he’s suddenly spinning me out, his grip firm as he spins me back, dipping me low. There’s more cheering, hooting and hollering. The room disappears. It’s only me and Pat, as his face lowers to mine, our noses brushing.
I am terrified. But I also trust him.
His eyes are two burning chocolate coals, their heat searing through me. My body lights up, flushed with desire. Blood and bad ideas rush to my head.
Pat’s gaze drops to my lips and my heart goes haywire.
Kiss me, I think. But I can’t bring myself to say it. I’m not that brave. And he’s right—I’m not used to asking for what I really want, or wanting anything at all.
Pat’s eyes meet mine again and his expression is determined, like I am a challenge, a prize he won’t rest until he claims.
When he presses a swift kiss to the corner of my mouth and pulls me upright, it’s all I can do not to drag him to me and claim his lips with mine.
Walking through the lobby of Mama’s facility, I’m greeted with congratulations from the nurses. Word doesn’t stay quiet long in Sheet Cake. I guess I shouldn’t have expected to fly under the radar, even with a quick courthouse wedding.
“We’ve left a wedding gift for you in your Mama’s room,” Neve says, giving my arm a squeeze. “We all chipped in.”
“You didn’t need to do that. Really.”
Her smile is broad and kind, almost enough to bring back the tears I thought I exhausted on the drive from the diner. I asked Val and Winnie to watch Jo and keep Pat busy so I could slip away to see Mama.
“Nonsense,” Neve says. “We’re all so pleased. You deserve some happy in your life. And that is one fine hunk of man.”
I can’t argue there.
“Speaking of a hunk of man.” Neve heaves a sigh and chases down the hall after a man dressed only in an argyle sweater vest and tighty-whities. Which, in this case, are more like gray baggy-saggies. I look away, but not before the sight burns an unwanted image onto my brain.
“Happy wedding day to me,” I mutter, pushing open Mama’s door. “Mama?”
She’s in her favorite spot, the comfy chair by the window where she can watch the birds. Only then do I remember I promised to refill the feeders this week. With everything going on, I forgot.