Page 22 of Love, Take Two

"Ready for the celebration?" he asks when I open the door, then stops short when he sees me. "Wow. You look incredible."

"Thank you," I say, unsure of how his attention makes me feel but appreciate it in ways I've been trying not to think about.

"Shall we go celebrate our victory?" he recovers, offering his arm like old-fashioned courtesy.

"Well hello there, Emory," Maya says, looking between us like she's watching her favorite rom-com unfold. "Don't you two look absolutely perfect together."

"Maya," I warn under my breath.

"What? I'm just saying." She brushes past us towards the door, then turns back with that mischievous grin I know too well. "I'll meet you down there in a few minutes—I need to touch up my own makeup"

Before either of us can respond, she disappears back into the room, leaving us alone on the terrace with the sound of her laughter echoing behind the closed door

***

The Sunset Terrace has been transformed into something magical—string lights and tropical flowers create intimate spaces, while a live band plays acoustic versions of classic love songs against the backdrop of spectacular ocean views.

"This is gorgeous," I say as we accept drinks from a passing server and survey the elegant party setup.

"Erika has incredible taste," Emory agrees, though his attention keeps drifting to me rather than the party decorations.

We're approaching a group of other guests when Derek intercepts us with what appears to be his fourth cocktail and zero remaining filter.

"THE CHAMPIONS!" he announces loudly enough for half the party to hear. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have to make a toast to today's volleyball victors!"

"Derek, you don't need to—" I start, but he's already climbing onto a nearby chair to address the entire party.

"Everyone! EVERYONE!" Derek shouts, clearly in full embarrassing speech mode. "I need to make a toast to our volleyball champions!”

The party quiets as people turn their attention to Derek's impromptu announcement, and I feel my cheeks burning as I realize we're about to become the center of attention again.

"But more importantly," Derek continues with the confidence of someone who's had too much to drink, "I want to talk about how much better things work out when people find their right person instead of settling for whoever's convenient!"

My stomach drops as I realize where this toast is heading.

The silence that follows is absolute and mortifying. Every person at this party is staring at us, Derek's words hanging in the air like a toxic cloud of inappropriate oversharing. I want to disappear, to sink into the elegant terrace flooring and never face another human being again.

"Derek," Jared's voice cuts through the silence with obvious embarrassment, "maybe we should—"

"Oh, come on," Derek continues, apparently oblivious to the social carnage he's creating, "everyone's thinking it! You and Vada were boring together, but Vada and Emory? That's passion! That's what love stories are supposed to look like!"

I'm frozen with humiliation, acutely aware that dozens of people are watching my reaction to being publicly described as a trade-up consolation prize. Maya moves closer with protective instincts, but before she can intervene, Emory steps forward with the kind of calm authority that cuts through awkward situations like a knife.

"You know what?" he says loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Derek's right about one thing. Sometimes the universe does fix timing issues."

He turns to me with a smile that's warm and confident and completely focused on rescuing me from public embarrassment.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks, offering his hand like Derek's inappropriate toast never happened. "I think I hear our song starting."

Our song. We don't have a song but the band is transitioning into a slow, romantic melody that does sound familiar in a way that makes my chest tight with memory.

"I'd love to," I say, accepting his hand and the escape he's offering from Derek's mortifying commentary.

The dance floor is positioned perfectly to catch the last rays of sunset, and as Emory leads me onto the smooth wooden surface, other couples follow our lead.

"Thank you," I say quietly as he pulls me in, one hand on my waist, the other holding mine with familiar warmth.

"Always," he says.

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