Elliot walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder. “No. You’re just scared this time.”
The room went quiet.
“I haven’t asked a woman to dance since I was seventeen years old,” Gordon said, his voice cracking just enough to tell me this was no joke at all. “I keep thinking she’ll laugh at me.”
I keep thinking she’ll laugh at me.
Elliot shook his head. “No. You keep imagining she’ll laugh at you. That’s different.” He picked the rose back up off the floor and pressed it into Gordon’s hand. “My grandfather used to tell me something.”
Gordon looked up.
“He said most people think regret comes from hearing someone say no.” Elliot’s voice softened. “But almost all real regret comes from never actually asking in the first place.”
Almost all real regret comes from never actually asking in the first place.
Gordon stared down at the flower. “I’ve already wasted fifty-eight years, son.”
“Then don’t let another five seconds decide the rest of it for you, Gordon.”
The words settled over the whole room like something physical.
I suddenly understood I wasn’t looking at a secret romance at all.
I was looking at borrowed courage.
Part Three
The dance instructor noticed me first, her eyes widening slightly. Elliot turned. All the color drained straight out of his face.
“Dana?”
Neither of us moved for a long second. His gaze dropped to the watch on his wrist, then back up to me.
