felt dirty and disgusted with myself.
Looking down at the fortune in my hand didn’t help matters.
What you want is right in front of you. Just take it.
Clearly, the universe was out to get me.
MY MOTHER LOVED to dance. I had memories of her slinging me and my little sister, Rachel, around the family room with a happy smile and laughter. It was one of my better memories, which was why when it came to finding something else that would bring Samantha confidence and happiness, I thought of dancing. Ballroom dancing to be exact.
I had her meet me at the top dance studio in Miami Thursday afternoon, and when she walked in, wearing a flirty, knee-length dress and heels that made her calves pop and her ass do things to my head, I had to look away.
She smiled at me as she made her way across the shining, hardwood floor to my side of the room.
“How did you know?” she asked, her face flushed with happiness and her eyes sparkling.
I’d done that. I’d put that happiness there. If I had to step away tomorrow because I was getting too close, I’d walk away knowing that I’d done that.
“How did I know what?”
“I added dancing to my bucket list,” she said, slipping her light jacket from her body and revealing a pair of beautifully sun-kissed shoulders. They begged to be touched—begged for my kisses.
Clearing my dry throat, I looked away. “I thought you didn’t have bucket list.”
I knew I sounded grizzly and rude, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was my defense—the only thing keeping me on my feet when I suddenly had the desire to sink to my knees in front of her.
“Well, thanks to you, I started one. Ballroom dancing is number four.”
I wanted to know what one through three were, but I didn’t have time to ask before Ms. Bright, the dance instructor, was pulling us onto the floor.
We were pushed together, my hand resting on her lower back, her tiny hand in mine, while the other rested on my shoulder. Heat from her body moved across my chest and the sweet smell of her skin enveloped me. It was that exact moment that I realized what I total git I’d been for picking something that would force us to be close. Perhaps in the deepest recesses of my mind, I’d known of the closeness. I’d longed for it.
The music started, and Ms. Bright called out orders like a tiny drill sergeant. Soon, Samantha and I moved across the room as if we’d danced together many times. I led her around the floor, my eyes focused on hers, and it was as if nothing else existed. She wasn’t my patient, and she definitely wasn’t married. She was just Samantha, I was just Roman, and we were just dancing.
“Very good,” Ms. Bright said in her Spanish flare. “What a lovely couple you two make.”
Samantha pinched her lips together to keep from laughing as she looked up at me with her dark, mysterious eyes. I didn’t bother correcting the teacher. I was too caught up in the feel of her so close to me.
“This is everything I’d hoped it would be,” Samantha said as I spun her, getting her hair caught on my wrist.
We weren’t the best in the room by far, but we were making it work.
“Why didn’t you ever go if it’s what you wanted?” I asked, even though I was sure I already knew the answer.
“Michael was always too shy when I mentioned it, and then, he just never had the time. Still doesn’t.” Her smile slipped, and I mentally kicked myself for asking.
Reaching up, I smoothed away a soft strand of her hair. “You look really beautiful today, Samantha.” I lavished her with a compliment and was rewarded with another heart-stopping smile.
“Thank you, Roman. You look pretty good yourself,” she said playfully.
She spoke as if we were rehearsing lines, as if what I’d said was only said because of our situation and my trying to build her confidence.
I wanted her to know I meant what I said. And not only for my own selfish reasons, but because they were true. I meant every word, and
Looking down at the fortune in my hand didn’t help matters.
What you want is right in front of you. Just take it.
Clearly, the universe was out to get me.
MY MOTHER LOVED to dance. I had memories of her slinging me and my little sister, Rachel, around the family room with a happy smile and laughter. It was one of my better memories, which was why when it came to finding something else that would bring Samantha confidence and happiness, I thought of dancing. Ballroom dancing to be exact.
I had her meet me at the top dance studio in Miami Thursday afternoon, and when she walked in, wearing a flirty, knee-length dress and heels that made her calves pop and her ass do things to my head, I had to look away.
She smiled at me as she made her way across the shining, hardwood floor to my side of the room.
“How did you know?” she asked, her face flushed with happiness and her eyes sparkling.
I’d done that. I’d put that happiness there. If I had to step away tomorrow because I was getting too close, I’d walk away knowing that I’d done that.
“How did I know what?”
“I added dancing to my bucket list,” she said, slipping her light jacket from her body and revealing a pair of beautifully sun-kissed shoulders. They begged to be touched—begged for my kisses.
Clearing my dry throat, I looked away. “I thought you didn’t have bucket list.”
I knew I sounded grizzly and rude, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was my defense—the only thing keeping me on my feet when I suddenly had the desire to sink to my knees in front of her.
“Well, thanks to you, I started one. Ballroom dancing is number four.”
I wanted to know what one through three were, but I didn’t have time to ask before Ms. Bright, the dance instructor, was pulling us onto the floor.
We were pushed together, my hand resting on her lower back, her tiny hand in mine, while the other rested on my shoulder. Heat from her body moved across my chest and the sweet smell of her skin enveloped me. It was that exact moment that I realized what I total git I’d been for picking something that would force us to be close. Perhaps in the deepest recesses of my mind, I’d known of the closeness. I’d longed for it.
The music started, and Ms. Bright called out orders like a tiny drill sergeant. Soon, Samantha and I moved across the room as if we’d danced together many times. I led her around the floor, my eyes focused on hers, and it was as if nothing else existed. She wasn’t my patient, and she definitely wasn’t married. She was just Samantha, I was just Roman, and we were just dancing.
“Very good,” Ms. Bright said in her Spanish flare. “What a lovely couple you two make.”
Samantha pinched her lips together to keep from laughing as she looked up at me with her dark, mysterious eyes. I didn’t bother correcting the teacher. I was too caught up in the feel of her so close to me.
“This is everything I’d hoped it would be,” Samantha said as I spun her, getting her hair caught on my wrist.
We weren’t the best in the room by far, but we were making it work.
“Why didn’t you ever go if it’s what you wanted?” I asked, even though I was sure I already knew the answer.
“Michael was always too shy when I mentioned it, and then, he just never had the time. Still doesn’t.” Her smile slipped, and I mentally kicked myself for asking.
Reaching up, I smoothed away a soft strand of her hair. “You look really beautiful today, Samantha.” I lavished her with a compliment and was rewarded with another heart-stopping smile.
“Thank you, Roman. You look pretty good yourself,” she said playfully.
She spoke as if we were rehearsing lines, as if what I’d said was only said because of our situation and my trying to build her confidence.
I wanted her to know I meant what I said. And not only for my own selfish reasons, but because they were true. I meant every word, and
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