Our Last Dance

1.

"Hey, mom?"

Turning around, Stevie looked back, smiling at her son who was walking across the dance floor.

"Hey, look who it is, Ireland," she pointed out to her granddaughter before standing up to greet him.

"Hi, daddy!" the little girl yelled, flying out of her grandmother's lap.

"Hey, pretty girl," he scooped her up and kissed her cheek.

"How was your day, Trevor?" his mother asked, bringing his head down to kiss the side of his face.

Pulling away, he rubbed her shoulder. "It was alright," he shrugged gently. "I was actually wondering if you could do me a favor...?" he held an innocent grin as he placed his daughter on his side. 

"Depends, what do you need?" she took a seat, crossing a leg over the other as she looked up at him.

"I have a friend, she's getting married and I was wondering if you would give her some lessons specifically for the wedding."

She pondered a tad, pursing her lips as well.

Seeing the expression, he decided to elaborate on his ask. "I've tried and obviously I can teach, but I think she needs an instructor like you 'cause I can dance, but I cannot teach gracefully like you. I'll be her partner if her fiance can't make it," he added.

Giggling a tad, "Sounds good, honey. I think it would be fun to give some private lessons. It's been a while since I've had adults, actually," she assured. "I have the little ballerinas and then the teenage ballerinas. I've missed ballroom," she shrugged.

"I know," he gave a sympathy filled grin as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

He'd known her not to dance as much since his father had passed away and when she did, she strayed from adult lessons.

Though she missed it, it was the love each person had for their spouses or significant others that made her want to break down into tears because it was the look she missed; the look her husband gave her, how they danced to each song, full of love and passion.

"What's her name, sweetie?" she asked, turning to a planner.

"Oh, yeah. It's Shelly. I'll text her your number and then her number is..." he trailed, pulling his phone out of his pocket, giving it to her right after.

"Far out," she mumbled to herself. "Sounds like a lot of fun," she assured.

"And I do hope you have fun," he assured.

"Thanks, babe..." she smiled lightly. "Are you and Annelle coming over for dinner or anything?" she then asked, gesturing to the little girl as well.

"We can if you'd like," he assured---knowing his mother to be lonely at times.

One thing that brought her the greatest joy was her granddaughter and conversation with her son or her daughter in-law.

"If you're not too busy," she smiled.

He agreed with a nod, walking backwards as he prepared to turn and leave the dance studio.

"Bye," she waved lightly.

"Bye, gwamma!" Ireland wiggled her fingers as best as she could when waving.

"Bye, sweetheart," she waved in return, getting back to the technical part of her job.

After her son left, she decided to go over some of her things: her lessons that were scheduled for the week. Before she could leave, she took her dancing shoes off and placed them next to her tap shoes, and slipped her regular boots on and her very large coat to battle the coldness that was Colorado. Packing up her purse, she made sure her keys were in her grasp so that she could leave for the night. As she moved across the wood flooring to make it to the door, she noticed a little headband off to the side, on the ground.