Michael Bublé’s rendition of “The Way You Look Tonight” began to play, and Paul gently pulled her closer. “Shall we dance?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper near her ear.
Kate wasn’t sure whether she should swoon at the feel of his breath against her cheek or laugh at the inflection of his voice, clearly meant to amuse her. “I’d love to,” she replied, remembering the first time they’d danced, just a week ago, though it seemed like years had passed since then, and Paul had certainly changed dramatically. Perhaps Kate had changed, too. She remembered feeling almost forced to dance with a man she hardly knew, one she harbored harsh feelings for, emotions she’d since realized were unfair and judgmental. Now, slipping into his arms on the dance floor seemed natural, and there wasn’t an
