In the pale golden light from the old-fashioned chandelier, he looked as handsome as she’d ever seen him. He had the kind of dark Irish looks that only improved with age. Somehow the way he looked at her, so seriously, reminded her of the old days, when he’d been just a little broken by life, and she’d made him laugh for that one romantic night.

“You always were a good dancer,” she said, and as she said it, she felt a little flare of caution go up. She was drunk; she needed to draw away, but it felt so good to be in a man’s arms, and it wasn’t like anything would happen.

He twirled her easily around and pulled her close again.

The crowd clapped in approval.

“I shouldn’t have had so much champagne. I can’t follow your lead.”

“Following has never been your strong suit.”

And with those few words, she remembered all of it again, the details. Memories came crashing through the walls she’d built to contain them. She stopped and looked up at him. “What happened to us?”

“Was there ever an ‘us,’ Tully, really?” he asked quietly. The way he said it, so easily, so quickly, made her wonder if he’d been wanting to ask the question for years. She couldn’t tell if his smile was rueful or indulgent; all she knew was that they were no longer dancing, but he hadn’t let her go.

“I wouldn’t let there be.”

“Kate thinks I never got over you.”

Tully knew that, had always known it. Without ever actually talking about their shared past with Johnny, she and Kate had tucked it away in the name of friendship. There in the dark was where it should remain, but as always with Tully, booze and loneliness weakened her, and so, despite her best intentions, she found herself asking, “Did you?”

By the time Kate returned to the party, the band had begun to play.

“Crazy for You.”

The song always made her smile. At the entrance to the ballroom, she paused, looking around. The dinner tables were emptying out. Lines were forming again at the bar. She saw Marah in the corner, talking to a remarkably skinny girl in a dress that was smaller than a handkerchief.

“Perfect.”

Tamping down a flare of irritation, she kept moving. That was when she caught a flash of emerald-green silk and the world seemed to drop away from her.

Tully was on the dance floor, hanging all over Johnny. He held her with an easy familiarity, as if they’d spent a lifetime together. Although they should have been dancing, they were just standing there, a still pair amid the colorful swirl of the other dancers. Tully was looking up at him as if she’d just asked him to take her to bed.