Atlas and I were barely swaying, more like shuffling in a tight circle. No matter. I was comforted by his hums near my ear, charmingly out of tune.

Wallis and Blake were on the floor too, somewhere. Earlier I’d caught them staring into each other’s eyes with an intensity that would be hard for anyone in the immediate vicinity to miss. But people seemed to be minding their own business; perhaps the initial jolt of our presence had passed.

Maybe it was this small victory—and the fact that I hadn’t received one repugnant look from a stranger in over twenty minutes!—that had me exhaling gratefully into Atlas’s tuxedo. I even felt confident enough to let the tips of my fingers graze the short strands of hair resting against his collar.

“Blake is a good dancer,” Atlas murmured. “He’s giving Wallis dips and twirls. And here I am just taking you around in a circle like a dog spins before a nap.”

“I’m happy to take it easy. Remember what happened to us at that bar in Hampton Roads?”

He laughed. “I still can’t drink Jägermeister. And my little toe healed crooked. I’m very self-conscious now in flip-flops, thanks to you.”

“Poor baby.” I gave him a squeeze. “What a burden.”

“Don’t look now,” he whispered into my ear, giving me chills. “But just over your right shoulder, your sister is kissing Blake Darley on the dance floor like the apocalypse is upon us.”

I groaned. “With tongue?”

“Loads of it.”

“We were supposed to be flying under the radar,” I grumbled. “I really don’t want to have to tell Miles that my sister is involved with a Darley.”

“You got her to resist switching place cards,” Atlas said. “That’s something.”

I watched my sister across the floor. Admittedly, there was something brave about the way she was clinging to Blake; to trust that you could grasp that hard and that the other person would grasp you back with the same furiousness was a feat for which I envied her.

“You know, no boy was ever good enough for her, before now,” I said. “Her standards pleased my father immensely. He called her discerning. Meanwhile, he scolded me for kissing my boyfriend on our front stoop after prom.”

Atlas gasped dramatically. “A kiss! I’m scandalized.”

“Well”—I fluttered my lashes—“there might’ve also been a little bit of awkward groping, too.”

Atlas chuckled, then grew serious. “Your father was quite awful when he felt like it. Do you miss him?”

“His voice doesn’t leave me. I find myself having conversations with him some days. These days, they happen to be angry ones.”

Atlas brought our intertwined hands up to his face, used mine to scratch his cheek. “Why was he so hard on you?”