Page 86 of The Husband Diet
‘Of course I care,’ I said. Only I hadn’t told him exactly how much.
31
Separate Lives
Tonight I was having my first tango lesson with Julian.
‘Hey! look at you,’ Julian whistled as I hung my coat on a peg in the dance hall – revealing my Elaine Richman tango dress, with cleavage – and hesitantly faced him on the dance floor.
I’d been to Lucy’s Hair Salon too, for one of her special blow-dries that always made me feel good.
‘You’re so beautiful, Erica,’ he said simply.
‘I’m not,’ I laughed, slapping his arm playfully, embarrassed – yet desperate for more.
He took my hand and spun me before the mirror. ‘Of course you are. Look at yourself in the mirror. How can you not know that?’
I did look at myself but got distracted by the beauty of the man holding me. Up close, he seemed bigger. I’m a tall girl, but he was at least a head taller than me, so my eyes came up to his throat, which was gorgeous, the Adam’s apple covered in just-shaven stubble, giving him that five o’clock shadow surrounding dark-fleshed, well-defined lips that were now curved up in a smile.
‘Shall we give it a go?’ he said.
I swallowed and nodded.
‘OK now, people, listen up!’ our instructor called. ‘Gentlemen, put your right hand on the small of your lady’s back.’
Julian obeyed and I felt my whole spine tingle.
‘Take her hand in your left one.’
Julian did as he was told.
‘If your lady is in your height range there will be a better physical understanding.’
I glanced around and realized I was, as always, the tallest woman.
‘No shrimp for me,’ Julian murmured with a wink.
My whole body was shaking so badly just from having his eyes focused on mine – imagine when he’d have to pull me into a hot tango embrace…
‘You there – the tall girl,’ the instructor called.
I turned. ‘Yes?’
‘Don’t stand like you’re terrified of touching him. Your hips have to touch; it’s a love dance, not a soldier’s march. Meld the hips, communicate through your bodies! Tango issex,’ he continued, and above me, I could literally feel Julian smile.
‘Just pretend you’re alone with him in your bedroom’—as if I hadn’t done that a gazillion times—‘and let yourself go.’
‘OK,’ I whispered with a determined huff and a nod.
‘And you – husband…’
Julian turned, grinning, enjoying every moment of my discomfort, the cad.
‘Yes?’
‘Hold her a little closer. She won’t break, you know?’
Which was true. I’d passed the dummy crash test against his headboard several times before, he-he.
