Page 4 of Holiday Star
Fine.
It’s her wedding day.
I won’t ruin it by making a scene. I take Caleb’s hand and rise from my seat.
Leaving an envious Jenny behind, we go to the dance floor. It’s a slow song, one that’s been on the radio a lot recently.
Caleb tilts his head, listening. “I like this song.” He sighs, as if the music pleases him.
He pulls me into him, guiding my arms up around his neck and placing his hands on my waist. I have to rise onto my toes to reach his height. His touch is warm, hot even. Which is weird because a shiver runs through my body at that moment.
We sway together, no fancy dance moves. Caleb is easy to dance with. He leads with expertise, gliding past the other dancers with a firm hand that slides from my waist to the small of my back, drawing me closer. He smells like a mixture of expensive alcohol, scotch or bourbon, and even more expensive cologne, with an undertone of something spicy. Cinnamon, maybe?
After a minute, he bends his head down, so I can hear him over the music. “I heard you’re a doctor. That’s impressive. Congratulations.” He takes a deep inhalation and breathes it back out, tickling my ear.
“Thanks.” I readjust my hands around his neck, loosening my fingers and then retightening them for a better grip.
In the past ten years, I’ve only seen a handful of movies. I’ve been too busy studying for medical school. But I did see one of his movies. It was a summer blockbuster. I don’t fully remember the plot, just that he was a detective and there were a lot of exciting car chases and explosions.
A specific scene stood out to me. It’s where he’s pulling himself out of the pool. Water pouring off chiseled abs and down his perfect body…
“I heard you’re an actor,” I say, pretending like I wasn’t just picturing his movie... and his body.
He nods, then chuckles darkly when he realizes I won’t congratulate him the way he did me.
There’s a beat of silence, which he fills by saying, “The ceremony was nice.”
“Mmm. Yes. Lovely,” I murmur absently, my mind returning to my dad. I wonder what my parents’ wedding day was like. What songs were played? It was back in the 1990s, so probably some horrible grunge music. Did they dance together like this, my mother and father?
Caleb must sense my distraction. He pulls apart, just a little, and stares down at me with a quizzical expression, like he’s searching for the things I’m not saying.
Up this close, his eyes are aqua blue. Such an unusual color that I search for the rim of contacts, wondering which parts of him are real and which are fake. No contacts that I can see. I squirm slightly, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.
“That was an excellent performance you gave earlier.” Without warning, he spins me out away from him. Our arms stretch out taut between us, and then he twitches his wrist and I come back to him, spinning like a top. I crash into his hard chest as he pulls me close.
“Excuse me?” My eyes snap up to his, taking a moment to focus since I’m dizzy from all that twirling.
“The toast you gave. You’re a good actress.”
I bristle, offended. “That wasn’t a performance. Those words were heartfelt and honest.” I pull farther away from Caleb, reestablishing the space between us.
“Riiight,” he says, making it sound like he means the exact opposite. Like he doesn’t believe me. “You can’t fool an actor, you know. I can tell you aren’t thrilled about your mom marrying my uncle. Is it because you enjoyed having her all to yourself?”
What. The. Heck.
The audacity of this guy.
“First of all, I’ve never had my mom to myself. I’m the middle child. I always had to share her with my brothers and my dad. And then, after my dad died, I shared her with her work. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if I did have any reservations about this wedding, it would have nothing to do with Seth.”
I don’t understand why I continue. I should stop my rant right there, but the words keep pouring out of me, like they’re tired of being bottled up all night. “It’s just hard to see her move on. Thirty years ago, my parents said forever in their wedding vows. My dad believed it, but it turned out that his forever was a lot shorter than Mom’s, and that makes me sad.”
To my horror, there’s a prickling in the corners of my eyes, as tears gather there. I look to the ground, hiding them. Caleb’s hand is under my chin, lifting it. We’re not dancing anymore. Just standing still, staring at each other in the middle of the dance floor.
He’s a talented actor, but the sympathy and remorse on his face as he gazes down at me looks awfully sincere. It spears me, the way he’s looking at me right now. Like heseesme.
“I’m sorry. I’m an ass,” he says plainly, like it’s a universal truth.
Which, for some reason, makes me laugh, because my emotions are all over the place tonight. Because in all the ways I imagined this wedding going, Caleb Lawson apologizing to me and saying he’s an ass wasn’t one of them.
