At table 24, tucked into a quiet corner, Daniel pulled out Megan’s chair. She looked surprised, as if courtesy had become rare.
The girls introduced themselves proudly: Olivia, Harper, and Zoey.
Dinner turned lighter than Daniel expected. The girls provided commentary on the dance floor like professional announcers. Megan had a dry wit that made him laugh—an actual laugh he hadn’t heard from himself in years.
When the DJ called everyone to dance, Olivia ordered, “Dance with my mom.”
Megan flushed. “You don’t have to—”
“We’re outnumbered,” Daniel said, offering his hand.
“I haven’t danced in years,” she admitted.
“Neither have I. We’ll embarrass ourselves together.”
On the dance floor, they moved awkwardly at first, then easier.
“Why did you say yes?” Megan asked quietly.
“Because I saw you preparing to apologize,” Daniel replied. “Like you expected rejection. I know that feeling.”
She squeezed his hand. “Hope is risky.”
“I know.”
They returned to the table to three triumphant faces.
But later, at the bar, Daniel overheard an older guest speaking loudly.
“And the girls’ father?” the woman asked Megan. “Did he finally show up? Or is this one temporary?”
Megan’s smile froze. “He’s a friend.”