Page 76 of The Love Hoax
She raises her eyes to mine, a flash of fear as she looks if anyone heard me. “Ronna.”
I redden then laugh, nervously. “Ronna.”
Her face glows with calm and happiness, matching my own. My heart is full, ready to burst.
“These last few days have been amazing with you. It’s been hands down the best time of my life.”
She stops moving. I have her undivided attention. “Really?”
I nod, more nervous than I’ve ever been. “I was thinking, maybe, if you’re willing, you and I can?—”
Before I can finish the sentence, the music abruptly changes, and I’m swept away, Evie pulled from my arms.
“Opa!” my father shouts, as I get caught up in the rowdy dance. The sudden change is jarring.
But nothing can be done about it. The kalamatianós, the traditional Greek wedding dance, has begun.
The restof the evening is filled with dancing, laughing, and imbibing ouzo. As disappointed as I am with the poorly timed interruption, Evie is going with the flow, trying to match Mom’s steps.
Apparently, Steph wanted to start the heritage repertoirebeforethe wedding. Leave it to my sister, the woman who has been harassing me to commit, to be the one to throw a wrench into my plan.
Kicking up my feet, I realize there’s a far more romantic time and place to tell Evie I’m in love with her.
Tomorrow. At the wedding.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Evie
Ihaven’t had this much fun in years. The traditional Greek dancing and plate throwing are a blast. Dizzy, I stumble, and Brad helps to steady me, making me giggle, thanks in large part to the licorice-smelling spirits I’ve been given to try. Several times.
Guests are gradually peeling away, claiming they need a good night’s sleep before the wedding. Wimps. It’s an especially weak excuse given that the bride and groom are still partying. By one a.m., only the immediate family remains. Which for all intents and purposes includes me.
They’re a loud, loving family. I can picture my boys fitting right in, horsing around.
Adam is dancing on the far side of the circle, laughing hard at something Anna is shouting in his ear. Red-faced and gleeful, he’s achingly handsome. How he’s remained single is a miracle.
I sigh, recalling the warmth of his embrace as we danced. Ascrazy as that sounds, it’s quickly climbing the charts as one of the happiest moments of my life.
I’m not used to feelings of irrationality. I’m a straight-thinking woman and a dependable mom. But since I met Adam, I’ve become a spontaneous risk-taker. And I like it.
Before the music changed he was gearing up to tell me something important. Something about us.
Us. There should be nous.
There are lots of things to figure out. But not at this moment. I’ll analyze the hell out of the situation after the wedding. I’m in no condition to do so now. Because now I’m tipsy, aware my inhibitions are fading.
When the band announces the last round, I take a seat, openly eyeing Adam as he makes a final circle around the dance floor, his hair flying, his forehead damp with sweat.
His shirt is unbuttoned and he’s wearing it like a jacket. Maybe taking it off completely would be crossing some decorum line for him. Too bad. But I still have an amazing view of his strong, glistening chest. I wipe my chin just in case I’m drooling.
“Eyes up here, missy,” Adam calls out with amusement, pointing two fingers at his eyes.
He’s caught me staring. Like a parched woman spotting a tall glass of water.
I blush like a tomato.
“Having fun?” he asks, wiping his brow as he approaches.
