The couple took the floor for their first dance, then guests were invited to join. The music was slow, intimate. I extended my hand to Nita, an unspoken question in my eyes.
"Richard, you know I suck at these kinds of dances," she said, her fingers tightening slightly around mine as she glanced toward the dance floor with visible alarm. "We are supposed to be saving the face of our marriage," she added under her breath, eyes narrowing just a touch, "not turning it into a media joke."
"Just let me lead you," I murmured, leaning in so only she could hear. "Just like at our wedding." We stepped onto the floor together.
