The dancing happened.
This was important because Dante had put it on the list specifically and I had promised it was on the list and when the dinner was finished and the garden was lit by the specific warm string lights that made everything look like a memory before it had finished being a moment — we danced.
Just us first.
Something slow. Something I had chosen and he had approved without question.
His hand at my back. My hand in his. The garden around us and fifty people watching and the specific quality of two people who had found each other through the most accidental and deliberate route imaginable and were now standing in a garden in October being entirely and completely what they had chosen to be.
"We did it," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"Against all reasonable odds," I said.
"T
