Free The Lost Hearts by Maya Wood

mind.  She latched onto the interruption with indiscreet gratitude.  “Mother, you’re monopolizing my date,” he laughed.  “Do you mind if I steal her for a dance?  You ought to find father and enjoy this band while the night is young.”
    Alexis nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”  Shooting up, her head spun from the champagne and she teetered in her black t-strap heels.   Philip rescued her, his arm girdling her back.  Margaret sat motionless on the sofa, her jowls rigid.  Philip bent to whisper something indecipherable to his mother, and before whisking Alexis away, kissed her on the cheek.
     
    “What was that , Philip?” Alexis cried as they maneuvered their way through the tangled mass of tipsy guests. 
    “Oh, it ’s nothing.  Don’t worry about my mother.  I think the excitement of the party has upset her nerves.” 
    Alexis stopped, standing stubbornly in place.  With a suspicious arch of her brow, she folded her arms across her chest.  “I mean it, Philip.  Your mother has never been so…aggressive.  She sounded exceptionally surprised to hear that work is such an important part of my life, and that I have no intention of leaving it.  And why does she care so much?  It’s not like we’re getting married. And even if-” 
    Philip groaned and took her shoulders in his hands.  “Alexis, please forget it.  You know she’s very traditional.  I promise I’ll talk to her about it soon.” 
    “You promise?” 
    “Cross my heart.  Can we dance now?”
    “I’d love to.” 
    Despite the disquieting insight Margaret’s comments had given Alexis, she wanted desperately to believe Philip.  That he never coated the truth in shame, or painted a more acceptable picture of her to his friends and family.  She wanted to believe what his eyes were expressing as he fixed her with a hard, loving gaze.  It overpowered her senses, and she locked her hand in his.  She would forget it, for now.
     
    On the raised hardwood dance floor, men and women moved in synchronization to a sweet, nostalgic melody.  Their bodies pressed close, arms bound tightly around each other, cheek grazing cheek.  The band was ten men strong, and they watched contentedly as the slow, rhythmic swarm of couples lost themselves to their music. 
    Philip led Alexis by her fingertips to the center of the floor.  His body arched over her, his arms pulling her against him.  She let her head rest at the base of his neck.  She breathed him in, the intoxicating, spiced aroma mingling with the effects of the champagne. 
    He couldn’t seem to get close enough to her, and he pressed her against his frame until they could no longer discern the lines of their own bodies.  He buried his face in the red halo of her hair, and she felt his warm breath pour over the crown of her head.  It sent tingling waves along the surface of her skin, and she shivered against him.    For a moment she felt as happy as she ever had with Philip.  There were no longer hundreds of perfect strangers around them, no baiting conversations with disapproving family members.  There was just the heat of their two bodies compressed in a hypnotic sway.  She believed then that nothing else mattered.  Philip loved her, he respected her, and he would take care to preserve her happiness.
    The two remained locked, lost in each other despite the growing attention of the party.  The floor had cleared a little, and slowly the other couples abandoned the dance floor.  Alexis felt Philip’s body shift, and she heard the soft rumble of his voice lift from his throat and whisper softly, “You’re extraordinarily beautiful, you know that, right?”
    Almost dozing against his solid frame, she had no idea that they stood alone, and that all eyes were fixed on them.  The brassy warbl e of the tenor saxophone tapered off, and Alexis lifted her head from Philip’s chest, her lids lifting woozily.  A solitary clap caught