The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

As soon as we were in the center, nobody around us, Viggo spun me in a circle under his arm, then pulled me to his chest, one hand firmly on my waist. The confidence with which he pulled off the move, as smooth as if he’d been practicing for weeks, left me a bit breathless, my heart once again crashing powerfully against my ribcage. He led with slight pressure, and we began to sway to the music. It was slow, the melody old, simple, and elegant. Violins made up the main part of it, but cellos were present. A single flute, loud and clear, wove counter melody to the stringed instruments, weaving a spell of intimacy around us.

I’d never understood the dance scenes in popular graphic novels; I’d never had time to even try dancing, and the whole thing had seemed kind of silly and clunky. I’d assumed I would be bad at it, to be honest. But now, I suddenly found myself realizing exactly why other girls at the orphanage snuck those romance comics to each other, hiding them under pillows until the wardens took them away or all the pages fell out. I understood why there had always been a dancing scene. They were trying to recreate this feeling—and now I knew no novel ever could.

Everything seemed to fade away, as if the world had just inhaled, and was waiting to exhale. I swore I could’ve heard a pin drop as Viggo spun me around the dance floor, leading me gently and confidently, so I had no reason to worry about my steps. I gazed up at him, trying to force every bit of what I was feeling into my eyes, certain he could see it there.

“I love you,” he whispered softly, his green eyes warm and bright, brimming with love for me.

“I love you, too,” I smiled. “Oh man… we’re married, Viggo! Can you believe it?!”

His lips pressed against the soft shell of my ear. “Just wait until later tonight, Mrs. Bates.”

I rolled my lips together, trying to soften a smile that was so grand, my cheeks were starting to ache slightly. “Am I detecting trouble in paradise, Mr. Croft?”

“Not at all… just trying it on to see if I can get used to it. I love the idea of you having my name, but it could be fun to be Viggo Bates. Has a nice ring to it.”

I laughed as he spun me out again, then under his arm, turning as he did, so that he could pull me back in against his chest. There was a smattering of applause, and it made me blush, but I ignored it, focused solely on him.

“I like it, but it doesn’t have the ring the ‘Croft’ does.”

“True. But neither does ‘Violet Croft.’”

“Hmm. We could hyphenate. Or come up with some combination name.”

“Oh dear Lord… Crates?”

“Baft.”

Viggo threw back his head and laughed at my joke, and it made me happy, knowing that I had made him happy. He pulled me tightly to him and rested his chin on the top of my head.

“We’ll figure it out. For now, I’m just happy to call you my wife.”

There was a possessiveness in his voice that sent a thrill through me, and all at once I remembered (probably for the thousandth time that day) that we were married, and tonight was our wedding night. Suddenly, I wished we were any place else, so I could finally, finally demonstrate my love to him in the most physical way possible.

Luckily, the song ended before my desire for him could flare too high, and he slowly, reluctantly pulled away from me. Everyone was clapping, looking at us, and I had almost caused a scene right then and there. I flushed, and waved an embarrassed hand through the air as I turned toward the crowd of our family and friends, hoping they chalked my embarrassment up to being the center of attention, and not to the fact that I had almost jumped my husband on the dance floor like a lunatic.

Viggo led me back to the table and sat me down. “Now, Amber… I believe it was your turn? And then my wife. Again.”

“Oh no—all the unmarried gals called dibs,” called Ms. Dale as Viggo held out a hand to Amber, helping her up. He shot her an alarmed look, and she cackled before adding, “And I’m next!”

I laughed, fanning myself with my hand to help cool my heated cheeks, and leaned against Tim. “You are all being really mean to Viggo,” I chided, and Ms. Dale laughed, setting down her mug.

“No, we’re showing him we care in our own perverse ways. Get him to wear the glasses, and thank Amber in the morning.” She winked, and I blushed again, bewildered that I could blush so much in such a short period of time. Ms. Dale stood up and stretched.

“I’m going to go make Henrik dance with me before this song is over,” she said, draining the remains of her mug. “Make sure you get in a dance or two before your Patrian drags you off by your hair.”

I snorted, sipped my cider, and watched her weave confidently through the crowds toward Henrik, who was standing by the food table, chatting with Alejandro. I watched as she approached, and Henrik automatically held out an arm for her, slipping it around her waist and pulling her tight to him. She smiled and cupped his bearded cheek, giving him a kiss on the lips. Then she leaned her head against his shoulder and just listened as he and Alejandro continued whatever conversation they were having, looking perfectly happy and content.

I smiled. It was good that Ms. Dale had found someone, especially somebody as respectful, wise, and capable as Henrik. If anybody deserved her, he did. Then I laughed, and Tim looked up at me, confused.

“I’m sorry,” I said through the laughter. “I just think I might have resigned myself to being that married woman who’s trying to get everyone married now.”

He followed my gaze toward Ms. Dale, and then chortled. “Not possible. Ms. Dale… Henrik… They together because want to be. You did nothing. They get married when they want to. You do nothing.”

“Oh, and what happens if I meet a girl I think is perfect for you?” I teased, but Tim seemed to ponder the question for a moment.

“Nothing,” he finally said. “I find own girl. Like you find Viggo.”

I reached out and playfully ruffled his hair, and he ducked back out of reach, smiling. The song ended, and was replaced by a lively jig, and I looked over to see Margot grabbing Viggo for another dance. Cad watched from the sidelines, and then raised his glass from the table he was sitting at toward me, our gazes meeting. I felt confused as to why he was still sitting at his table so far away, until a few people moved and I saw Henry and Sarah both lying on some chairs, fast asleep, mouths ringed with white frosting. It was odd—neither of the two slices of cake in front of them seemed touched, save for a few small bites—but maybe they’d just been too tired to eat. I smiled and he gave me a droll look followed by a shrug.

“Say what you want about him, he’s a good dancer,” Amber exclaimed as she dropped into the seat next to me, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming faster.

“What is the deal with these glasses?” I asked, and Amber flashed me a smile.

“It was part of his disguise when we went into the stadium,” she informed me. “Just trust me—and hope that his vision starts going later in life, because he pulls them off well.”

I snorted. “I feel like I should be uncomfortable with all this.”

“Oh, whatever. We all know that Viggo is eye candy, but he’s eye candy that only has eyes for you. Your babies are going to be gorgeous.”