False River. Stinson Carter

      “Any speech is good when it comes from here,” says Chad, touching his chest in a moment of “why the hell can’t a man cry every once in a while” openness.

      Cam keeps a straight face. “The photographer wants you to round up all the groomsmen for a group shot,” says Cam.

      “Where?” he asks.

      “Out in the foyer,” says Cam.

      The best man starts rounding up his team and leading them out of the room. The photographer follows them out with the camera. One of the guys calls away Kelly’s dance partner, and Kelly is left alone out on the parquet, mid-song.

      Cam intercepts her on her way back to her table. “May I?”

      “You don’t waste any time, do you?” she says.

      “Plenty,” says Cam, with a smirk he hopes might give the word some link to their history.

      She silently opens her arms for him, keeping the past at bay. He takes her gently by the waist and hand, and tries his best to remember his mother’s dance lessons from earlier.

      “You guys would make a great Christmas card.”

      “What?”

      “You know the ones people send out, arms around their kids, golden retriever in a Christmas collar.”

      “Come on, Cam.”

      “Could be a compliment.”

      “Coming from anyone else.”

      Cam snickers.

      “You got some nerve.”

      “So I hear.”

      “If only you had the charm to back it up, there’d be no stopping you.”

      “If only.”

      The groomsmen break huddle in the foyer, and Kelly’s guy comes back in looking around for her.

      “I’m gonna be home for a while,” says Cam.

      “I’ll be sure to warn my girlfriends.”

      “I’m not interested in your girlfriends,” says Cam.

      Kelly steps back to be spun. He goes along with it, trying his best to lead.

      “Let’s go out and catch up sometime,” he says, dropping his grin for a genuine attempt at sincerity.

      “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she says. She gives him a quick, consolation smile as her eyes wander to the McConathy kid. When they shift back to Cam’s face, there’s a darting impatience in their movement.

      Cam chuckles to himself.

      “What?” she asks.

      “I’ve been gone so long, I forgot what Southern girls were like.”

      “And what are we like?” she asks, unamused.

      “Just ‘cause you leave a trail of sugar around the bush doesn’t make beatin’ around it any better.”

      “I was just being polite.”

      “Exactly,” says Cam.

      “Would a simple ‘no’ be better?”

      “If you meant it.”

      “What makes you think I don’t?”

      Cam grins. “The fact that you just asked me that.”

      She looks at him, annoyed. Cam pushes her gently away for a spin, then pulls her back in. The song ends with a wail from the sax and a crash of cymbals. Kelly lets go of him and walks away, without even an over-the-shoulder glance for a goodbye.

      The McConathy kid doesn’t waste any time finding Kelly again. But a minute or so back into their easy flirtation, Kelly turns her head slightly, like it’s just so she can brush her bangs behind her ear. And as she does, she looks over her shoulder at Cam, then quickly turns back. Cam smiles and goes back to the table to find his mother.

      “You ready to go soon?” she asks.

      Cam offers his arm, she takes it proudly, and the two of them stroll out through the foyer.

      “What’re you smiling at?” she asks.

      “Didn’t know I was.”

      “Like the cat that ate the canary.”

      Cam looks over his shoulder to get one last look at Kelly before they go.

      “She’d be good for you,” she says. “Can you be good for her?”

      Cam smiles and tucks in his arm to press her hand against his side as a little quiet thank you.