Mind Over Matter

stepping beside her, David kept his eyes on the dancers. “It’s extraordinary.”
    Business, she thought. It was best to keep their conversation on business. “Are you considering producing it?”
    “Considering. That’s a long way from doing it. I have a meeting with Steiger Monday.”
    “That’s wonderful.” She couldn’t stop the surge of pleasure for him. She couldn’t help showing it. “You’ll be sensational.”
    “And if the script ever makes it to the screen, you’ll have been the catalyst.”
    “I like to think so.”
    “I haven’t waltzed since I was thirteen.” David slipped a hand to her elbow and felt the jolt. “My mother made me dance with my cousin, and at the time I felt girls were a lower form of life. I’ve changed my mind since.” His arm slid around her waist. “You’re tense.”
    She concentrated on the count, on matching her steps to his, on anything but the feel of having him hold her again. “I want everything to be perfect for her.”
    “I don’t think you need to worry about that anymore.”
    Her mother danced with Alex as though they were alone in the garden. “No.” She sighed before she could prevent it. “I don’t.”
    “You’re allowed to feel a little sad.” Her scent was there as he remembered, quietly tempting.
    “No, it’s selfish.”
    “It’s normal,” he corrected. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
    “I feel as though I’ve lost her.” She was going to cry. A.J. steeled herself against it.
    “You haven’t.” He brushed his lips along her temple. “And the feeling will pass.”
    When he was kind, she was lost. When he was gentle, she was defenseless. “David.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “I missed you.”
    It cost her to say it. The first layer of pride that covered all the rest dissolved with the words. She felt his hand tense, then gentle on her waist.
    “Aurora.”
    “Please, don’t say anything now.” The control she depended on wouldn’t protect her now. “I just wanted you to know.”
    “We need to talk.”
    Even as she started to agree, the announcement blared over the mike. “All unmarried ladies, line up now for the bouquet toss.”
    “Come on, A.J.” Her new stepsister, laughing and eager, grabbed her arm and hustled her along. “We have to see who’s going to be next.”
    She wasn’t interested in bouquets or giddy young women. Her life was on the line. Distracted, A.J. glanced around for David. She looked back in time to throw up her hands defensively before her mother’s bouquet landed in her face. Embarrassed, A.J. accepted the congratulations and well-meaning teasing.
    “Another sign?” Clarissa commented as she pecked her daughter’s cheek.
    “A sign that my mother has eyes in the back of her head and excellent aim.” A.J. indulged herself with burying her face in the bouquet. It was sweet, and promising. “You should keep this.”
    “Oh, no. That would be bad luck and I don’t intend to have any.”
    “I’m going to miss you, Momma.”
    She understood—she always had—but she smiled and gave A.J. another kiss. “I’ll be back in two weeks.”
    She barely had time for another fierce embrace before her mother and Alex dashed off in a hail of rice and cheers.
    Some guests left, others lingered. When the first streaks of sunset deepened the sky she watched the orchestra pack up their instruments.
    “Long day.”
    She turned to David and reached out a hand before she could help it. “I thought you’d gone.”
    “Just got out of the way for a while. You did a good job.”
    “I can’t believe it’s done.” She looked over as the last of the chairs were folded and carted away.
    “I could use some coffee.”
    She smiled, trying to convince herself to be light. “Do we have any left?”
    “I put some on before I came back out.” He walked with her to the house. “Where were they going on their honeymoon?”
    The house was so empty. Strange, she’d never noticed just how completely Clarissa had filled it. “Sailing.” She laughed a little, then found herself looking helplessly around the kitchen. “I have a hard time picturing Clarissa hoisting sails.”
    “Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Sit down and have a good cry. You’re entitled.”
    “I’m happy for her.” But the tears began to fall. “Alex is a wonderful man and I know he loves her.”
    “But she doesn’t need you to take care of her anymore.” He handed her a mug of coffee.