11

Mr. Benson lifts his glass. “To the newlyweds, cheers!”

“Cheers!” the echo rings out and champagne gets tossed back. And that was the first of many toast of the night, so many I zone out.

Soon enough Ian and I stand facing each other, my hand on his shoulder, my other clasped in his as we have our first dance. A few other couples have come to join us on the floor. We sway slowly, I must be paying even less attention than I thought because I step on something uneven, my ankle tipping to the side sharply. The arm at my back tightens, holding me up against the front of his body.

I snap back straight, looking at where I’m stepping on his foot.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, heat spreading up my cheeks, usually I'm a better dancer but his hand on my spine is a constant reminder of him, no matter how hard I try to imagine being somewhere else.

We continue and when I step on his foot for the third time, I decide it’s best to pull away. Bringing so close to him unnerved me in a strange way I cou