She's 7 months pregnant when she hears it again.
Sitting in a diner, next to Clyde, listening to him go on about how this milkshake will blow her mind. Rachel hears the first few notes, strikingly electronic, then turns to her husband as her face lights up.
"I'm in the phone booth, it's the one across the hall," she murmurs, her swollen feet shifting under the table with the urge to dance.
Clyde finds himself grinning as he recognizes the song, edging out of the booth and reaching for her pale wrists. The skater pulls her from the booth with some effort, her protruding baby bump getting in the way.
"If you don't answer I'll just ring it off the wall," he sings in return, his voice off key and slightly hoarse. She's smiling at him anyway and he can't imagine a reality where he wouldn't have fallen for her like this.
"I know he's there, but I just had to call," Rachel continues along with the jukebox, and he watches her hips sway to the music with a dizzying intoxication. It's all he can do but stare at her with his lips slightly parted and his eyes wide, but he forces himself to continue with her, tucking a strand of curly blonde hair behind her ear.
"Don't leave me hanging on the telephone," their voices rise together, Clyde's uneven and Rachel's beautiful but shaky. Despite the lack of singing in these past few months, they find their own harmony. "Don't leave me hanging on the telephone..."
"I heard your mother now she's going out the door," Clyde takes Rachel's hand and spins her. She nearly falls, but halfway collapses into his arms instead, and he holds her close, swaying slightly.
They remain this way for the rest of the song, Clyde resting his chin on the top of her head and slow dancing like it's prom. It's probably a strange sight. Seeing two teenagers, one heavily pregnant, slow dance to a song that's before their time.
Clyde helps Rachel back into her seat and sits beside her this time, interlocking their fingers and speaking softly to her.
"I love you," he tells her, wrapping a strand of brown hair around his finger.
She seems surprised. He recalls that night they got married, the sadness in his voice and the hesitance in hers.
When he sneaks a glance away from the hair he's playing with, he's met with that delicious smile again.
"I love you, too, Clyde," she beams, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly.
When their milkshakes come, he's almost disappointed to lose the taste of her to chocolate.