Page 17 of Mr. Merry Ex-Mas
I don't say anything because I remember that night. Our plan was dinner and drinks. But then this cover band started to play, and it was fun singing along with the old songs. He pulled me from the booth, and I fought him as he tried to pull me to the dance floor, so he began to twirl me right by our table. I got lost in the fun of it, the feeling of this man looking at me like I was his everything. And then he spilled the beer, and I almost lost it.
It felt like everyone was looking at me. And all he did was pull me close, take my hair out of my ponytail, shake out my curls, and then wrap his arms around me, covering the spill and continuing to dance.
“Sadie,” he says, his voice softer now. I look at him and remember all the ways we were good together.
My phone buzzes against the bar, but I ignore it, quickly letting my thoughts come together. “You walked here, right?”
He nods while watching me intensely.
“Come on,” I say, sliding off my stool. “You can walk me home.”
I don’t look back. I know he’s following.
12
DANNY
The cold air hits the second we step outside. It’s not brutal but just enough to make her pull her coat tighter and glance over at me like maybe this was a mistake.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “You sure you trust me to walk you home? I might veer off into a pizza place and never come back.”
Sadie smirks without looking at me. “I’d respect that, honestly. Commitment to carbs is rare these days.”
“See, that’s why we worked,” I say. “Shared values.”
She snorts. “We didnotwork. We barely functioned.”
“We functioned creatively,” I argue. “Like a two-person circus.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Yeah, and you were the clown.”
“And you were the ringmaster who needed to loosen up. Still do.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine. It’s light but intentional. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not around you.”
That makes her quiet. The street lamps light the sidewalk, and we walk quickly, the cold pushing us along. I wonder if she even realizes she keeps glancing over at me like she’s trying not to.
Her hand brushes mine. Once, twice, and on the third time, I just grab it. Her fingers are colder than mine, and she lets me hold it, like it doesn’t mean anything.
But it does.
“You always do that,” she says, her voice soft now.
“Do what?”
“Turn everything into a moment.”
I grin. “Lifeisa moment.”
She laughs under her breath, but doesn’t pull away. “You think you’re so charming.”
“I thinkyouthinkI’m charming.”
“I think you’re dangerous.”
I speak without thinking. “I think you’re dangerous for my heart.”
