Althea
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere, courtesy of the string lights, the music, and the gentle breeze coming off the lake. Whatever the reason, the sun has barely set when I find myself on the dance floor with an unlikely partner.
“You're not as terrible a dancer as you were in college," I tease Eros, letting him spin me under his arm. His laugh is rich and uninhibited.
“I've had practice since then."
Of course he has. With the finest teachers?
Maybe. There’s little left that he can’t buy. I try to imagine his life during our twelve years apart, where he’s gone, what he’s learned, who he was with.
It’s like trying to imagine an alien world, though, and every time I make the attempt, I come up short. But does it really matter? We’re here now, and thi
