Notes: All right, guys. Here it is. I was sorta burned out for a while on this, but here you go. I know it's not as thorough as some of you might like, but I'm leaving it the way it is. It just feels right to me this way. Let me know what you think! Music was what literally made me write this part, as well as the next, so I had to include some of it. The first song is "You Mean Everything to Me" by Shawn Mullins, the second "These Arms of Mine" by Otis Redding. Neither are mine. If you can somehow get a hold of them, I really suggest you listen to them, while you read, as the lyrics cannot do either of the songs full justice. It's all in the way they sing them. And how they do sing them…:)

Current Excuse for Feedback: Yesterday was my 20th birthday! So if you haven't dropped me a line in a while, or never have, you know, feel free. I'd love you for it. It's been a heavy few days. Mostly a good heavy, but heavy nonetheless.

"Um, before we do the traditional dancing, um, thing, I want to do something… for my wife. Darrah. Darrah, honey, I just…I love you. So much. And I want everyone to know just how much. I would have written something, but nothing came close, and there are much better writers in this room. So…I thought, I thought I would sing a song, for everyone to hear. Someday I'll write you your own, but for now, take this as a promise, okay? I love you. Always."

Such a simple song. But so full of love. She watches Darrah embrace a bashful Sandy, press a kiss to the top of his ducked head. She sniffles as they begin to dance, and sighs wistfully.

I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful than the image of her standing against that pillar, in her long, frothy dress. When I say frothy, though, I mean it as a compliment. It's sleeveless, flaring out just a bit at the bottom, and the color is a bit lighter, a bit warmer, than that of a Granny Smith apple. If her hair were down, spilling down her back like last night instead of the elegant updo, she'd look just like Venus. Sappy, I know, but…

Last night. My God. My heart stopped. She came running in, her cheeks red from the cold, exuberant, laughing, but still graceful. Her hair was everywhere I looked, it seemed, a glinting, flashing gold always at the edge of my vision, my mind. Her eyes sparkled. Hell, she sparkled, every bit of her. I'd never seen anyone more vibrant, more filled with life and light. I knew then. She's whom I'd been waiting for.

And now she's standing there, crying, because her brother is so happy, so complete, and she's not, maybe. I wish I could tell her that she's made me complete, and I've barely even talked to her, but we all know that would be crazy. So…

"It's almost sickeningly sweet, isn't it?"

She turns, startled, hastily wiping away tear tracks. "Yeah. I…I never knew it was possible for two people to be so connected, so content. But they're, they're just…just look at them, and how they look at one another."

It feels as though my heart hurts, looking at her looking. "Yeah," I say softly, and my emotion must come across in my voice, because she looks at me sharply. I make an effort to lighten the mood. "I'm Dave,…"

"Darrah's brother. I've heard a lot about you. She thinks the world of you."

"It's mutual."

His voice is thick and sweet as honey, with a Southern tang. Vaguely, I remember Darrah saying that their father was from North Carolina, and that they had spent every summer there. I don't know why, but listening to him speak, well, it reminds me of wood smoke, warm, rich and comforting. His eyes are tawny amber, and they're regarding me so intently I have to look away, turn away, but he catches my wrist. Momentarily I freeze, and remember the night I met Darrah, and that other hand that circled my wrist. But then he moves it so gently down into my hand that when he asks me to dance, I can't say no.
"You're not half bad."

"Right back atcha, sugar."

We're dancing to "Sweet Caroline," and surprisingly, it works. He's an amazing dancer, for such a big man.

He stops a moment, to tip his head back and belt out the chorus enthusiastically. When he looks back at me, his eyes are twinkling, and he looks so boyish and carefree I just want to hug him. Instead…

"Did I mention that my middle name is Caroline?" I say.

"Well, you sure can dance, Sweet Caroline."

"You're better."

He smiles. "For that you can thank my mother. She loved to dance, and made sure I knew how to do it properly. Actually, we used to dance to this very song. Her name was Caroline, too. She used to say, when I complained, 'There's no surer way to a girl's heart, Davy, other than honesty, and singing.' As a result, I'm adept at all three."

"I'm sure you've put your skills to good use."

"Why, of course. A pass only last so long, and my 'skills' speed things up considerably." He winks mischievously, and I smile. I know how to do this, because this is banter, and I've grown up watching the champion. My mother.

I'm watching Liza dance with Dave. They look right together, and I'm glad. I was worried about her earlier, out there all alone, because, as Josh always says, she's our "ray of sunshine," and brooding isn't usual for her.

Dave's a nice boy, and he's clearly smitten with my baby. And she with him, it looks like. I know chemistry when I see it, because I had, have, and will always have it with Josh, a Josh who, in fact, is currently nuzzling my neck. He murmurs an inappropriate suggestion into my ear, and I laugh, and push him away, and watch Liza again.

"Hungry Eyes" just started playing, causing Dave to assume an aggrieved stance and an almost comically pained expression. Liza's laughing, tugging on his arm, wheedling. With a theatrical sigh, he agrees to dance. I turn to Josh, satisfied. He's been watching, too, but his expression does not indicate satisfaction. His eyes are narrowed, and he's shifting into combat stance. I don't need to ask, but I will anyway: "Josh?"

"He's looking at her."

"Yes. Men do. She's an attractive woman, Josh."

He stiffens. "She's twenty."

"Yes. Precisely. Hence the term 'woman.'"

"He shouldn't be looking at her. He's too old for her," he says stubbornly, implacably.

"Josh, he's twenty-seven.""

"There's a big difference between twenty and twenty-seven, Donna. Trust me. I know."

"Do you, Josh? Do you really? Well, my my my, you big strong man, please, please tell me, as I am just the innocent little woman, anxious for your guidance." I bat my eyelashes at him. He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "Josh, I'm gonna save you from yourself, okay? It's our son's wedding day, and I don't want to have to hurt you. So trust your daughter, and come and dance with me."

"Your husband's been looking at me funny, hon."

"You've been dancing with his baby sister, David."

"Yeah, well, he's dancing with mine, and you don't see me freaking out, do you?"

I laugh, and nestle closer. When I look up, his eyes are soft. "Your husband. It doesn't seem possible, babygirl. One minute I'm walking you to kindergarten, with your pigtails and that little lunchbox with the butterflies, and the next I'm dancing at your wedding. You make sure he takes good care of you, all right? Or I'll come break his legs."

"We'll take care of each other. I'll be fine. I promise."

"If you ever need me, for anything, don't hesitate, okay?"

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I promise, Davy."

After my dance with Darrah, I go looking for her. She's on the patio again, shivering slightly in the chilly air. I shrug off the jacket of my uniform and put it over her shoulders, startling her once again.

"You really have a way of sneaking up on a girl, you know that?"

"Yeah. Dance with me?"

"Again?" But she takes my hand, and smiles.

We've been dancing together all night, and people are noticing. Have been noticing, actually, for a while now, but you know what? I honestly don't care. I feel right, here. His arms feel right to me.

The song we're currently dancing to is "This Magic Moment," by The Drifters. It's a good song to dance to, relatively fast-paced, but still intimate. We've been having a good time, laughing as much as usual, and then I look up at him. Our eyes lock, and we stop dancing, and all of a sudden I know it's not just fun and games anymore. Not at all. We stand, just looking into each other's eyes, until the next song starts. He takes my hand, and then, with Otis Redding crooning through the speakers, we dance.

"I told you something was going on!"

He's tugging on my sleeve, whining, looking pointedly at Dave and Liza, who are staring at one another like they're the only two people in the world. "I see that, honey."

"Darrah!"

"Yes, Sandy, I see. I see two adults who appear to be falling in love with each other. One happens to be your sister, a sister whom you feel extremely protective of, whom you never want to see hurt again."

He looks down, biting his lip. "I know, honey. I know. But I know my brother. He won't hurt her, that way or any other, you understand? And if he ever does, I'll be the first in line to kick his butt, okay?"

"I still think all of this could have been avoided if I'd had my sunglasses. I look very menacing in my sunglasses."

I give up. Heaven help our daughters. Heaven help me.

Oh, well. I love him anyway.