“Ominously rhythmic and sensual.”

Ryan moves into a standing leg stretch and I smile and shake my head. “You really have gotten so much weirder with age. What do they put in the water in North Carolina?”

“Mainly testosterone and Cheerwine.” Ryan rolls his shoulders backward and forward and proceeds to pull his arms across his chest like a pitcher.

“A demonstration really isn’t necessary,” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the now-pumping music.

“I think a demonstration is necessary unless you admit that I have moves.”

“Can’t do it,” I automatically respond.

“Say I have moves.”

“Honor forbids it.”

“Fine. Remember, you were warned.” Without another word, Ryan claps his hands together. He whips a hip to one side with a shimmy-shake and I shut my eyes, refusing to watch the embarrassing dad-dance of a now-desperate man.

“Okay, you have moves!” I yell. “You have serious moves!”

I crack an eye open and see that Ryan is now frozen in place.

“Are you sure?” he asks, fully prepared to start dancing again if I change my mind.

“I’m sure.”

He gives me a victorious smile before standing up straight, clicking off the music and returning to the table. “I knew you’d eventually admit the truth.” He sits back down and takes a dignified sip of wine.

“You’re deranged,” I tell him, picking up my fork. “Can we have dinner now? Is the lord of the dance all tuckered out after that little display?”

“Dinner may continue. Dazzling a lady with my dance skills always makes me hungry.”

Before I know it, we’ve finished our second glasses of wine, dinner is done, and I get up to start doing the dishes.

“Let me help you,” Ryan says as he begins clearing the table.

We quickly get a system going where he scrapes the dishes and pots clean and hands them to me before I rinse and load the dishwasher. Five minutes later, the kitchenette is spotless and we’re heading into the living room.

Duke is already sleeping in the bathroom as I sit down in my reading chair, bending my knees as my feet rest against the ottoman. Ryan settles himself on the couch and flips on the TV to watch baseball highlights. He used to sit like that in college. The only difference is, I would be tucked against his side with his arm around me, reading a book and feeling so safe that I’d almost always fall asleep.

“Can I ask you something?” I venture.

“If you’re trying to find out what I charge for dance lessons, you should know that I’m industry-level. I cost more because I’m worth more.”

“Obviously,” I agree. “No, I was wondering...what did you do after we broke up?”

Ryan fumbles with the remote for a second as he turns away from the TV to look at me. “Why do you ask?”