After a tragedy, Amila Johnson abandons her life in New York and retreats back to her birthplace of Houston. She tries to start anew but she can't get far with the skills of being an almost classically trained ballerina.
Deciding to take up her fri...
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"Look at them," Amila said, jutting her chin toward the far corner of the reception area near the bar. "They look so happy."
Deja smirked, "They should. They're married to us." The sun was fading the lanterns protruding from the sand borderline of the reception area and the twinkle lights hanging above them turned the diamonds in her engagement ring and wedding band into a kaleidoscope of brilliance. "They have a lot to be happy about, some more than others."
"They do." Amila nodded, tipping the champagne glass sans the champagne to her lips. She swallowed the fruity liquid and then said. "And so do we."
So, did she. Amila's life had been a whirlwind of happiness and adventure for the last two years. She landed a spot on the corps de ballet at the American Ballet Theatre and was able to live out her dream of dancing on stage in front of one of her favorite ballerinas. It was the last day of her dancing career and she knew from the wave of contentment that washed over her, she was ready to sashay off the stage.
Within four months of that day, she was married and went on a month-long honeymoon. She didn't know a honeymoon could last that long but Dominic made her into a believer.
In the Philippines, he completed his promise to make love to her on every continent. On the thirty-first day of the second month which starts with an 'A', they returned to the States to put down roots and make the house he bought her into their home.
"Who gave my mama another glass of champagne?" Deja sighed, dropping her head back with exasperation. "She's going to be doing the tootsie roll on the dance floor."
"Cotton candy, sweet as gold. Let me see the Tootsee Roll."Amila sang as she danced, with the warm sand beneath her feet happy her friend didn't require her Matron of Honor to wear shoes.
"Stop." Deja playfully slapped her arm. "And that's not even the words. It's 'Cotton candy, sweetie go."
She shook her head. "No, it's not."
"Look it up on your phone and let me revel in saying 'I told you so.'"
"Am not." Amila rolled her eyes playfully. "Anyway, he has my phone. Blame yourself, You're the one that picked a dress without pockets."
She watched Dominic make his way across the beach with Keaton by his side.
"Mrs. Herrera," The wedding photographer approached them but Deja didn't turn to her so she repeated, "Mrs. Herrera."
Amila tapped her friend's arm and pointed at the photographer. "Mrs. Herrera, you're being called."
"Oh. I'm still not used to it." Deja said, placing her sight on the woman.
Amila flicked her wrist, there wasn't a diamond-encrusted wedding band on her finger to match the sparkle of friends.
"We need to take pictures of you and Mr. Herrera for your website." The photographer said, holding up her camera. "You said you wanted to capture the sunset as your background."
