The Dance (43 page)

He must have sensed my presence because without looking around, he said, “Did you hear the good news?”

I walked farther into the room, placing the bag of Chinese take-out from Red Orchid on the hospital table at the foot of the bed. “No. What good news?”

Will looked at me, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’m getting sprung.”

“When?”

“Today.”

My stomach plummeted as my thoughts spun out of control. For all intents and purposes, Will and I were still legally married. His doctors and all the rehab staff, except Hart, saw us as a happily married couple. They’d release Will, assuming he’d be going home to the house we once shared.

His gaze followed me as I walked to the chair across from him and sat. “We need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I think it’s time to tell everyone the news.”

“I just got off the phone with my mom right before you came in.”

Finally.

He turned toward the take-out bag. “I’ll eat once we get home.”

“What?”

“The discharge papers should be here in about a half hour. You need to go ahead and pack up all my things.”

I jumped from the chair and quickly walked to the door and closed it. With one hand on my hip, I ran the fingers of my other hand through my hair while taking in several deep breaths. Once I felt centered and composed, I went back to face Will.

“We need to tell both sets of parents we’re getting a divorce.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Bryson, you promised to stay with me until I fully recovered. I’m doing well enough to leave this fucking place but still need you with me. I’m nowhere near ready to be by myself.”

“I got a job and start tomorrow. I won’t even be home,” I blurted out.

His dark eyes zeroed in on me. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or pissed.

“A job? Why?”

“Because I’m trying to move on with my life, Will. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“You have little to no skill set and you’ve never made an important decision in your life. You’ve always had a safety net, first your daddy and then me. We both know you’ll never make it on your own, Bryson.”

I stared over his shoulder as I tamped down my anger.

Keeping my voice strong and steady, I said, “When I heard you’d been in an accident my first thought was, please god let him be okay. It would be so easy to hate you, Will. But I don’t. I don’t hate you. We’ve both wasted ten years living a lie. You can have the house, the cars, and the money. I don’t care if I walk away from this marriage with nothing more than my dignity but I am walking away.”

My gaze seared into his long enough to communicate my nonverbal fuck you. I turned on my heels and walked out the door with my head held high. The sense of relief and empowerment propelled me down the hall. Before leaving the rehab I made a pit stop at the nurse’s station to give them the address of where Will would be spending the rest of his recovery . . . his parents.

Once in my car I sent a quick text to Sophie.

Me:
Sorry but I need to cancel lunch.

Sophie:
You okay?

Me:
Better than okay. I’ll explain later. I love you.

Sophie:
Love you too.

I scrolled through my contacts and clicked on the number I needed.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey stranger.”

“I know. Sorry about that. Are you and Daddy going to be home for the next few hours?”

“Sure. All we have planned today is yard work.”

“Okay, I’m headed your way.”

“Wonderful. I know you’ve been busy with Will but I feel like I haven’t seen my sweet girl in such a long time.”

I swallowed the large lump in my throat as I blinked back tears. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Bryson.”

I wasn’t sure how I was going to live on my own and was scared my parents would be disappointed in me when I told them about the divorce. But I couldn’t control anyone or anything except myself and my actions. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I knew I was capable of handling whatever came my way.

The conversation with my parents was full of tears, hugs, and understanding. They reiterated over and over that they’d support me no matter what and that their only concern was my happiness. Mom said she’d fill in Ryan and a few close family and friends on the situation. After the emotional visit I headed home for a bit of a breather before my dinner with Hart.

As I walked toward the house, my eyes soaked in the beautiful southern porch. Strangers driving by would think the people living just beyond the threshold had a perfect life. They’d never guess how much turmoil swirled within the walls. They wouldn’t see the loss of commitment and trust. They wouldn’t hear the demeaning and humiliating words or the sobs that filled the air. No, they’d look at the outside and wish they were inside. A weak smile crossed my lips as I realized that the porch had done its job well.

Entering the house I thought about how Will and I breathed life into every nook and cranny. We took our time making sure the tiniest details were exactly the way we wanted. Our dreams of raising a family and spoiling grandkids. I dropped my purse on the small foyer table and wandered the downstairs. I passed the home office, the two guestrooms, the family room, the kitchen. Without our dreams the house felt new, like a blank canvas. Just like I did.

There was no better way to end a day than with Hart. As I walked into his place I swooned and laughed at the sight of him trying to open the can of refrigerated breadsticks with a knife while Butter looked up licking her chops. It was a good thing I stopped by The Bread Shop for a loaf of fresh garlic bread.

Since he seemed so determined with the project, I helped him get the can of dough open, forming it into something resembling breadsticks, and into the oven. After that, I insisted on making the salad and cooking the pasta while he stuck to pouring the wine.

Sitting at his table, our plates piled high with the dinner we’d made together, Hart raised his bottle of beer. “We make a pretty good team.”

His words caused my stomach to flutter.

I held up my wine glass and we clinked. “Yeah, we do.”

I watched over the brim of my glass as Hart twirled the spaghetti around his fork and slipped it between his lips. I swallowed hard as he slowly pulled the fork from his mouth, remembering how he looked up at me last night as my breast slowly slid from his mouth. His eyes closed as he moaned with a look of pure pleasure crossing his face. A loud sigh drifted out of me.

Hart opened his eyes, aiming them directly at me. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m just thoroughly enjoying your foodgasm.”

“Wait till we have dessert,” he said, winking.

We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I shattered the mood.

“Will was released today.” I blurted it out in such a random manner.

Hart sat back and took a swig of his beer. “So, he’s back home.”

He tried to hide it but I could tell his jaw was clenched and his grip had tightened around the bottle.

“
When the girl of your dreams comes back into your life, control is the last thing you have.”

“He’ll be at his parents’ house for the rest of his recovery.” Hart visible relaxed. “I told my family about the divorce today. I guess the next step is to lawyer up.”

Reaching over, Hart took my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles. “You okay?”

I gave a slight nod. “It’s weird. For the last several months I struggled to picture my life without Will. I was never able to get a clear view of what it would look like. The only thing I could see and feel was my fear. I thought about all the things he handled in our marriage. The boring stuff like fixing things around the house, taking the cars in for repairs, and finances. Nothing I couldn’t learn but it was just easier to let him take care of it. The picture is still a little hazy but the fear is gone. I have a lot to learn and I’ll make mistakes but that’s okay. I’m going to be okay.”

Hart gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so proud of you, Bryson.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I have you to thank for a lot of it. You have no idea . . . you’ve given me the strength and courage to believe in myself and take control of my life.”

Hart let go of my hand and backed away from the table, moving closer to me. Placing his hands on either side of my face, he sank his fingers into my hair as he pulled me to his mouth. The kiss was slow, deep, passionate, and left me breathless. Once it broke, Hart ran the tip of his nose along mine before our foreheads came together. The words I love you pushed against my lips but I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep them from breaking through.

After his breathing went back to normal, Hart gave me a quick peck on the lips and said, “That’s what friends are for.” I bit down harder on my cheek, focusing on the pain as my heart slowed. “I want to give you something.”

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, not letting on how his words affected me.

“Not that. At least not right now,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the chair.

With a mischievous glimmer in his smoky eyes he rolled backward, leading me to the sofa.

“Sit. I’ll be right back.”

Hart headed down the hallway toward his bedroom while Butter slinked up in front of me looking for a head rub. As I looked into her warm caramel eyes, I wished I was a dog. Life would be less complicated.

Butter hopped up wagging her tail at the sound of Hart coming back into the room. As he rounded the sofa, her wet black nose sniffed at the large white box with red ribbon he was carrying. He held out the box to me. My gaze bounced from it to his excited expression.

“Open it.” The hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“What is it?”

“If you open it you’ll find out.”

I was in such shock that when I reached for the gift, it looked more like I was picking up a bomb. Setting the large box on the coffee table, I pulled at one end of the ribbon, causing it to twist undone. Before lifting the lid, I glanced at Hart. His excitement from earlier seemed to have morphed into nervousness.

Tilting my head, I said, “Nothing’s going to pop out at me, is it?”

“Nothing from the box.”

I took off the lid, placing it to the side before separating the red tissue paper. My chest tightened as I slowly ran my fingertips over the material. Biting my bottom lip, I tried to stop the tears from coming but it was useless.

“Bryson?”

I looked at him, with a continuous stream running down my cheeks and choked out. “I c-c-an’t be-lieve you did th-is.”

Reaching inside, I pulled out the white chef’s jacket with my name embroidered in black over the pocket.

“I guessed at the size. If it doesn’t work for you I can take it back.”

My head kept shaking back and forth. “When did you have time to do this? I just told you about the job last night.”

Grinning, he said, “I told you this morning I had errands to run.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Your reaction is more than enough.”

Without another word, I folded the jacket and placed it back in the box. I got up and crawled into Hart’s lap. Not wasting any time, my fingers dove into his hair as I devoured his mouth, my tongue swirling and pushing in as far as it could go. Loud deep moans echoed in the room as his fingers dug into my hips. Heat radiated off our bodies, filling the air to the point of suffocation. As much as I tried, I couldn’t seem to get close enough. I fisted his gray crewneck, tugging him to me. His hands traveled up my sides, settling on either side of my face. I tore my lips away from his, letting them lick and bite their way over his neck to behind his ear.

“Thank you,” I whispered then nipped at his earlobe. “It’s the sweetest most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

His hand made its way south, sliding up to my inner thigh. “You deserve it. You deserve everything.”

“I love it.”