“I’m surprised you didn’t get sick of me always bugging you to dance then.” I’d been relentless and he always did as I asked. My father joked I’d had him wrapped around my
finger, a place I wanted him to always remain, even if that was selfish.
“I didn’t mind.”
“You never used to—”
I squealed when he lifted me up and guided my feet to his shoes where they
rested as soon as he dropped me back down, then started laughing when he kept
dancing just like that. Like the old times.
“I enjoyed those days, Della,” he told me honestly, his face drawing back ever so slightly until his breath caressed the side of my face.
Half his lips quirked up. “I did. Those were simpler times when there was nothing heavy to worry about.”
I licked my lips as his nose grazed mine. My heart sped in my chest as I closed my eyes again and willed him to close the gap between our lips, but it never came. So I said,
“Things now are certainly complicated because of my father…”
His sigh was felt in my soul, heavy and burdened, and I wanted to know his thoughts. “It isn’t just your father that makes things complicated now.”
A pause. “No, Della, it isn’t.”