What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 33, Part II

He came to a halt about two feet from me and smiled.

"That was a beautiful ceremony," I told him.

"You're not going to cry, too, are you?" he teased.

"I got something in my eye." With the knuckle of my index finger, I wiped at the corner of my eye. "How about you wipe that smirk off your face and we head on over to the ballroom?"

John raised his hands in defense and offered me his arm which I took as we followed the other guests.

As the last people entered the room, the light was dimmed and Laura led Andrew to the floor for the first dance. John gently pulled me to a corner by the wrist so we could disappear in the crowd. I could now see that Tom was in charge of the music, having his phone hooked up to the speakers with an aux cord.

The first song opened with an acoustic guitar and some simple country chords. The singer was promising his significant other to stay with them, saying their attraction was stronger than that of the freedom of the open road. Laura was almost as tall as Andrew in her heels and thus had it easier to sling her arms around her husband's neck. Andrew held his wife firmly by her waist and as they swayed and stared into each other's eyes dreamily, they were unaware of anyone else in the room.

Sighing, I let myself sink backwards against John's chest. At first he stiffened, but when I straightened up, blushing, and opened my mouth to apologize, he gently pulled me back into him by the fabric of my dress. His heart beat fast against my back and my own matched the pace. Even though I was almost used to it by now, the burning sensation his hand on my waist left was sweet torture. The song's lyrics 'Lay your head back easy, love, close your cryin' eyes/I'll be layin' here beside you when the sun comes on the rise' sounded perfect in that moment when I leaned my head against John's chest. I pushed away any thoughts except for ones pertaining to the here and now, not wanting to be responsible at the moment. When John's hand snaked its way into mine, I didn't flinch. Just for this song.

Our hands separated after the first dance to applaud the bride and groom, and then the dance floor was opened. John stepped around me and bowed as he extended a hand to me. His grin was intoxicating and his hazel eyes glinted as he looked up at me. "May I have this dance?"

I chuckled. "I can't dance."

Smiling, I pushed away his hand only to have him hold it out again. "Can't or won't?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the grin on my face from spreading. "I'll embarrass you."

"Why don't we see about that?"

I turned my head and sighed, still grinning, but took his hand and followed him to the floor. My breath hitched when his palm slipped around me, pressing into my shoulder blade, and he placed my hand on his upper arm. His firm hold was welcome as my knees turned into jelly and my size 7 ½ ballet slippers became clown's shoes, or I had suddenly become a klutz. His other hand raised mine into the air, and we began moving.

John lifted me up ever so slightly with each step as we slowly spun around to the three-four time of the current song. All the while, even as I nervously watched my feet to make sure I didn't step on his or vice versa, the warmth of his eyes on me heated my entire body.

"Grace, look at me."

As nervous as I was about where to set my feet, I was at least as nervous to look into John's eyes after everything that had changed in the past two hours. Against the velvet and golden honey of his voice, though, I stood no chance. They enveloped me whole, and I had to take a deep breath to get enough oxygen before lifting my eyes to his. The disarming smile on his face made my heart stutter.

"Don't worry about the steps. I got you."

As if in a trance, I nodded. His eyes didn't leave mine once as he confidently maneuvered us through a horde of people, never getting too close to any other dancers.

"Where did you learn this?" His warm, syrupy gaze threatened to drown me. "I had no idea you could dance."

He shrugged one shoulder. "We took classes in high school."

"Of course you did," I said under my breath. Prep school things.

"Though I admit they taught us a little differently then."

Before I could ask, he pulled me into him until my forehead was almost touching his chin. My hand involuntarily gripped his arm more tightly.

"I think this is how it's supposed to be. What do you think?"

He knew I wasn't allowed to answer this question, no matter how codified. My heart was pounding in my chest as I looked up at him with wide eyes. The vein on his neck revealed his equally elevated pulse. When he dipped his head, I was suddenly gripped by panic—or elation?—that he would kiss me, but instead his lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath my ear as he whispered: "I'm sorry it took me so long."

***

We had made it in time. Penn Station was bustling with people even at this early hour. It was 8 am on the morning after the wedding. John and I were standing on the platform at Moynihan Hall, the New York Amtrak terminal, waiting in line so I could board my train to Boston's South Station where I would be catching a Greyhound to Portsmouth for Grampa to pick me up. I was regretting having booked my departure so early, but not only had it been cheaper, I had also expected things between John and me to be stranger—or at least a different kind of strange.

However, it was for the best. I was still with Liam for now. All of the short night, the memory of John's heartbeat against my back and his hot breath on my neck had taken turns haunting me with the image of Liam's bitter face when he'd ask how the wedding had been. I had been exhausted and barely awake when Marianne had gotten up this morning, still in her dressing gown and ready to crawl back into bed as soon as I was out the door. She thanked me for my help (which she hadn't needed at all, I had begun suspecting a matchmaking attempt). Then she invited me back and hugged me goodbye.

John, too, had sacrificed the pitiful remainder of his night's rest and had accompanied me on the train to Penn Station. On the way, he'd been quiet, but I attributed it to the lack of sleep just like I myself was barely functioning instead of thinking and feeling.

There were only another dozen people in front of me in the unofficial line when John turned toward me and blurted: "Thank you for coming down this weekend."

"Laura and your mom invited me," I replied cautiously. My conscience was nagging at me, but I couldn't even convince myself that this had been the only reason.

"I know. But I'm... I loved having you here."

I couldn't help but smile and lowered my eyes to not meet his.

Another four people to go.

John lowered his voice now so it was barely more than a whisper: "I wish you didn't have to go yet."

My cheeks grew heated. His fingertips ran along the sensitive skin behind my right ear, the same place in which the day before he had whispered what I had wanted him to say for months, giving me hundreds of tiny goosebumps. I rubbed the spot with my left hand and finally looked up at him. Everyone but me had already boarded the train now. My lips parted, I was on the verge of saying something, but didn't know what. I needed to figure out this situation for myself first. His eyes flickered dangerously from my eyes to my mouth. Gently, I laid my hand on his chest to keep him at a distance. Kissing John would make a train wreck of everything. In response, he gingerly took a step back and pressed his lips together, nodding ever so slightly.

"I have to go."

"I know." His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling for a moment before drawing his eyes back to mine. "Have a safe trip, Grace. Text me when you get to Boston and Portsmouth so I know you're safe, please?"

I nodded and quietly said: "Thank you for dropping me off, John. I'll see you next week."

He smiled while I lifted my duffel over the doorstepinto the train car. "Yes, you will."