of us are more flushed and wrinkled than we were before, but hopefully no one will notice. We return to the ballroom just in time to see Pop’s best man belting out a sappy country song at the microphone.
Damian and I laugh with everyone else, and then he pulls me out onto the dance floor to do a slow dance with the other couples. My mother gives me a little wave when I glance at her over Damian’s shoulder. The smile I give her is warm. Genuine.
We dance for a while, and I enjoy the feel of Damian’s arms around me. Then we go sit with Chelsea and Owen, who are being very snuggly.
A few other people have gotten up to sing songs, most of them being corny and over the top for fun. The crowd is clearly having a really good time. During a slight lull, I see Chelsea stretching up to whisper something Owen’s ear.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Why not? You sing it so well. Do it for me?”
Intrigued, I lean over. “What do you want him to sing?”
“Our wedding song. It’s Elvis. Tell him he has to get up there and sing it.” Chelsea is giving her husband a teasing little shove.
Owen makes a face. “I’m not going to do it by myself. You sing it with me.”
“No. It won’t work as a man-and-woman duet.” She purses her lips thoughtfully until her face lights up. “Damian can sing it with you.”
“What now?” Damian has been only half listening, his hand on the back of my neck and his eyes scanning the room with leisurely interest.
“Sing with Owen. I bet you have a great voice.” Chelsea is sunny and gorgeous, and I have no doubt she’s used to getting her way. “Say you’ll do it.”
Damian glances over at me.
“Please do it,” I tell him. “I’d love to see you sing up there.”
He groans while Chelsea claps her hands. It’s obvious he’s going to relent. “I bet Trevor will get up there with you guys.”
“What will Trevor do?” He’s been dancing with Melissa, but he obviously overheard his name.
He takes a little convincing, but he agrees to sing as well. As the men are walking to the front, I see Damian stop at the table where Sam and Hunter are seated. “Come on, brother,” Damian says, grabbing Hunter’s arm. “We’ll need your help too if we’re going to do this thing.”
It seems to surprise everyone that Hunter agrees, but he does with a bad-tempered snarl that’s obviously put on.
So the four men, after a brief discussion with the band, each take a microphone and sing “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
They’re a huge hit.
I laugh and applaud and call out encouragement with the rest of the crowd, but my eyes are focused on Damian. He’s gotten into the spirit, belting out the words in an unsurprisingly good voice. He seems to be enjoying himself. He’s hamming it up on purpose.
And he keeps meeting my eyes and smiling as if wants to share it with me.
He seems to like the other men up on the stage. They’re all kind and funny and intelligent and good-hearted. He fits right in with them.
I fit in. I feel a part of things now. Of these people. Almost like family.
When Damian returns amid cheers of victory, he gives me a hard hug, swinging me around in a way that makes me squeal.
I never thought I could be this person. I always assumed this was something that other people were allowed to have but I never would.
Maybe it’s not genuine. Maybe it’s just a dream. Maybe I’m still just fooling myself, and pretty soon it will start to slip out of my hands the way the things I want always do. But it doesn’t feel that way today, right now, in this room, wrapped in Damian’s arms.
Maybe this marriage has always been fake, but for this moment it feels like the real thing.
Nine
THE NEXT MONTH IS THE best of my life.
Hands down.
I still haven’t landed on a work project that really captures my interest, but it feels like I’m getting closer. So maybe I won’t have to spin my wheels futilely for the rest of my days. I talk to my mother on the phone daily, and she sounds happier than I’ve ever known her. I’m seeing my therapist weekly, and the sessions are productive. I’m getting to know some of Damian’s friends, and they’re starting to feel like my friends too.