“Wanted you closer,” I mumble before I take her legs and place them in my lap. She’s kicked her shoes off beneath the table, and I’m sure her leg and feet are killing her but she hasn’t said a word. She’s kept her cane nearby today, which I’m grateful for. It helped ease my worries somewhat.
“You don’t need to do that,” she says, trying to pull her legs off my lap.
I tighten my hold on her ankles. “Let me take care of my wife.”
She reaches for the champagne glass and takes a sip. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.”
“Wife?” I clarify, even though I know that’s exactly what she means and she nods.
“But you are my wife. At least for the next five-ish months.”
She swallows down another gulp of champagne. “I told the girls about us when we were together before and about the baby.”
I stare at her in shock. “You never told them before?”
She scoffs. “No.” At my insistent, surprised look she adds, “It was too painful. I confirmed somethinghadhappened but nothing other than that.”
Our breakup was devastating to me, but I don’t think I realized how hard it was on her too. Losing the baby and our relationship in one fell swoop was a lot to deal with. If I could do it over again, I would’ve pushed her harder to talk to me, to work things out and grieve together, but back then I just didn’t know what else to do but listen and give her the space she was asking for.
“It felt like it was finally time to be honest. Clearly, they all figured out something was going on between us.” She gives a small laugh. “Except maybe Noah. He’s pretty clueless.”
“That he is,” I agree, rubbing her feet.
She lets out a soft moan. “You have no idea how good that feels.”
I smile, pleased that I can do something to make her feel better. “I confess, I have an ulterior motive.”
She finishes her glass of champagne and turns curious eyes my way. “And what’s that?”
“I want you to dance with me.”
“Fisher,” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Please, just one dance.”
“One?” She purses her lips like she doesn’t believe me.
“Just one. Unless you decide you want more.”
She heaves a tiny sigh. “I guess I can do that.”
I smile in victory.
Ebba finally lets me get her on the dancefloor and it doesn’t escape my notice she chooses to do so when it’s not a slow song playing. But I don’t complain. I just want to be with her.
We’ve been dancing no more than thirty seconds when the song abruptly cuts off. Both of us look in the direction of the DJ and I’m not surprised to find all our friends and her brother standing by the booth with triumphant expressions.
The slow song begins, and Ebba shakes her head, laughing softly under her breath.
“Such meddlers. All of them.”
“They love us. They just want us to be happy.”
She looks up at me with warm brown eyes that take my breath away. “I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s true.”
I slide my hand down to rest on the curve of her waist, my fingers nearly—but not quite—touching her ass. I’ve never achedfor a woman the way I do Ebba. She stole a piece of me the first time I ever laid eyes on her.
“Should we give them a show?” I tease.