Page 101 of Second Dance
“Here’s where we saw Eli Winters,” Alex said as we passed the fountain. “What a night that was.”
I smiled. “It was one of the best of my life.”
“Did you ever see him play again?”
I chuckled. “No. He got big after that, and I could not have afforded tickets. But I listen to his music all the time.” What I didn’t say was how his songs had made me ache for Alex and those heady days we’d shared.
We kept walking, hand in hand, the rhythm of our footsteps syncing with the hum of the city. I could almost hear the echo of Eli’s raspy voice from that night, that song about finding your way home. The one I thought of as “our song.”
When the light began to fade, Alex checked his watch. “Come with me,” he said, his tone soft but certain.
“Where are we going now?” I asked, laughing.
“You’ll see.”
The car stopped at a building in Midtown I didn’t recognize—an old brick restaurant with ivy climbing the front and tiny white lights strung across the awning. A man in a crisp black suit opened the door for us.
“Good evening, Mr. Garcia,” he said.
Alex nodded, his hand warm around mine. “Everything ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
We rode a private elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, I gasped.
The rooftop twinkled under a canopy of lights. One lone table draped in linen, candles flickering inside a glass jar, and beyond it all the Manhattan skyline rising against a deep violet sky. Heat shimmered off the rooftops, carrying the scent of jasmine.
And standing near the railing, guitar in hand, was Eli Winters.
I froze. “Oh my God.”
He grinned. “Turns out I could hire him for a special evening.”
“I cannot believe it.” I simply stared at the singer. Like us, older, but still unmistakably Eli Winters.
Eli turned toward us, his familiar grin easy and genuine. “So this is the famous Gillian.”
“I’m a huge fan,” I said.
“That’s nice to hear. Shall I play for you?”
“Yes, yes, please,” I said.
He started to play—soft, gravel-edged, the kind of voice that touched a deep place in my soul.
Dinner was served in waves—summer corn bisque in delicate bowls, followed by butter lettuce with champagne vinaigrette, then salmon with citrus glaze alongside fingerling potatoes and blistered green beans. A bottle of chilled white wine appeared, and the combination of exquisite food and Eli’s music made me feel almost giddy.
Eli played through his repertoire until, finally, he caught Alex’s eye and nodded. The moment I heard those opening chords, my breath caught. This was our song—the one we’d danced to that last night in Central Park, both of us knowing summer was ending and that soon we would have to say goodbye. But back then I’d thought I’d see him again. Boston wasn’t so very far away after all. However, it was not to be. I got the phone call about my sister two weeks later. And everything in my life changed.
“I wrote this one about finding my way back to someone I thought I’d lost,” Eli said. “Funny how a song can belong to more than one love story. Gillian, Alex asked that I play this one for you last. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as you did back then.”
As he sang about love finding its way home, about hearts that remember what they’ve known, I looked at Alex and saw everything—the lanky boy with big dreams, the man who’d loved and lost, the father who’d opened his heart again. Every line felt like it had been written for us, for the years we’d spent apart, for the miraculous way we’d been reunited. Alex’s eyes were glistening too, his gaze alternating between Eli and me.The city sprawled behind him, glittering and alive, the same city where we’d found each other and lost each other and somehow, impossibly, had returned. By the time he reached the final chorus, I was crying openly, and I didn’t care.
“I wish you two the very best. And now it’s time for me to give you time alone,” Eli said, before stepping off the small stage and heading for the door.
Alex stood and came around to my side of the table and dropped to one knee. “Gillian Horton, you’ve brought me back to life, given me purpose and meaning. I lost you once, but I’m hoping you’ll say yes so I never have to lose again. Will you marry me?”
My throat tightened as he pulled a box from his pocket and lifted the lid. A solitary diamond caught the light from the city behind him. “What do you say?”
