Chapter 3

I went back to the hotel the next morning because Luke had asked me to. I wanted to believe that meant he was willing to listen. The family lunch had been moved to the following day because Emma’s parents couldn’t arrive in time. Luke had texted that our meeting could still go ahead. On the drive, I practiced what I would say. I wasn’t asking him to choose between his parents. I wanted him to stop making decisions about me without asking. Then I heard our song. It drifted through the open ballroom doors—the song we used to play when I drove him home from hockey practice. He would turn it up and sing badly until I laughed. When he chose it for our dance, he had said, "You remember this one, right?" I had thought about that question for days afterward. Now Brooke was standing in his arms. A dance instructor counted softly beside them. Mark sat at a nearby table, watching with a coffee in his hand. Luke turned, saw me, and stopped. Brooke followed his gaze. Her hand slipped from his shoulder. "Oh, Claire." She stepped back. "I told you this might be awkward." For a second, I waited for my son to come over. He knew why I was there. I had asked him about this dance last night. He had told me it was easier to explain in person. "Finish the run-through," Mark said. "We’re paying for the instructor’s time. You can talk afterward." Luke looked at me. Then he looked at Brooke. He lifted his hand. She took it. The instructor restarted the music from the middle, and my son guided another woman through the turn I had spent two evenings learning. My feet shifted before I could stop them. I knew where the next step belonged. My teacher had told me to relax my shoulders there, to trust that Luke would lead. I stood beside the door with my purse pressed against my stomach. He had seen me. There was no possibility that he hadn’t. When the music ended, Mark smiled. "Much better." Luke let go of Brooke and walked toward me. I searched his face for some sign that he understood what he had just made me watch. "Is that what you couldn’t tell me on the phone?" I asked. He glanced back at the instructor. "Can we have a minute?" She gathered her things and stepped outside. Only then did he turn fully toward me. "I didn’t want you getting upset before I could explain." "So you let me walk in and see it?" "It wasn’t supposed to happen like that." I looked at the empty floor behind him. A few seconds ago, I had still been waiting for him to leave it. "Whose idea was it?" Luke rubbed the back of his neck. "Brooke’s never had children. She’s never going to have a moment like this." "And I am?" "Of course you are. You’re my mom." He said it with the same impatience as yesterday, as though I kept forgetting something that should comfort me. "You don’t even like dancing in front of people," he added. "I thought this would take some pressure off." "I’ve been taking lessons." His hand dropped. "What?" "Six. I’ve had six lessons." The room went quiet. I looked at my son and remembered hurrying from work to a little studio over a pharmacy, changing my shoes in the car. I had asked the teacher to help me avoid stepping on his feet. I hadn’t wanted Luke worrying about me on his wedding day. "Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked. "I wanted it to be a nice surprise." He looked down. For a moment, I thought that might finally be enough. He might tell Brooke he was sorry, but he had made a mistake. Instead, he said, "We’ve already practiced." I stared at him. "I can’t just tell her she’s out now." Brooke approached, holding a bottle of water. "Luke, sweetheart, I can step aside. I never wanted your mother to feel pushed out." "Don’t apologize," Mark said, setting down his cup. "You’ve done nothing wrong." My husband looked at me, waiting for me to make that statement true. "Why does she need to be taken care of," I asked, "and I need to understand?" "Claire, please," Mark said. "It’s one dance." Luke’s face tightened. "I’m trying to make everybody happy." I held his gaze. "When you saw me standing there, why didn’t you stop?" He opened his mouth, then closed it. Behind him, Brooke lowered her eyes. "It would have embarrassed her," he said. The answer was quiet. He didn’t sound cruel. He sounded as though the reason should have been obvious. I nodded once, because I had finally understood. He had noticed me. He had considered what stopping would do to Brooke. Then he had kept dancing, certain I would bear the rest. "I need to go." Luke reached toward my arm. "Mom, don’t leave like this." I stepped away before he touched me. In the hallway, Mark caught up and held out a printed bill. "These are the extra flowers and the lounge Brooke arranged. Can you take care of it today? Luke has enough on his plate." I took the paper automatically. Then I looked through the ballroom door at my son, and down at the amount they expected me to pay.