The Dance (52 page)

While my head rested on Hart’s broad shoulder, his arm was wrapped around my waist with his hand slowly moving back and forth over my hip. I was exhausted from the long day as well as my nerves being on high alert. The combination of good food, music, and Hart’s rhythmic caress had my eyelids struggling to stay open. Just as I was about to completely disappear into the land of dreams my body jolted.

“For god sake, pull your pants up! I do not want to see your ass or your tramp stamp!” Sophie’s screech cut through the air.

“Dudes don’t get those. Besides, it’s on my hip.” Doug corrected her.

“Well, I have news for you. Your ass is taking over your hip region.” With her face scrunched up, Sophie timidly leaned toward Doug who was standing next to her. “What is that anyway?”

“A fire-breathing dragon.”

“I don’t see any fire.”

“It’s in my pants.” Doug grinned.

“You’re gross and inappropriate!” Sophie squinted her eyes. “Is that a pink bow on its head?”

Doug pulled up his pants. “Fuck.”

All the guys burst out laughing.

“It’s Hart’s fault.”

“Hey man, you’re a big boy. You make your own choices,” Hart said, his chest vibrating with laughter.

“We were all drunk and we all got one.” Colin was the ever-present calming voice.

“I swear to god, you said we were all getting cartoons.” Doug said.

“We’d been talking about getting our cars tuned as in tune-up, you idiot!” Ronnie yelled.

“But still . . . Doug, even if we said cartoons, why would you get Hello Kitty?” Hart asked.

Doug’s face turned red with annoyance. “That fucking tattoo dude was gunning for me.”

“You were trying to pick up his girlfriend.” Ronnie chimed in.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that chick belonged to him?”

With the iron poker, Colin stoked the fire. “Well, she had the name Ernie tattooed on both arms and just below her neck. The shop was called Ernie’s Tatts and the dude introduced himself as Ernie.”

At this point we were all rolling with laughter. I was so tickled, tears streamed down my face.

Hart continued the story. “Dumbass Doug goes back to Ernie and bitches, demanding that the guy cover up the kitty.”

“And the dude did just enough to make Doug think he transformed the old tat into a cool dragon. But if you look at it the head on the kitty is still shining through.” Colin finished the story.

“How did you find out you could still see the kitty?” I asked.

It was Ronnie’s turn to add to the story. “He hooked up with this girl. The next morning he woke up to her talking baby talk to his hip, saying how much she loved Hello Kitty.”

“Why didn’t you just go to another shop and get it fixed?” Sophie asked.

“Because it hurt like a motherfucker.”

Sophie stood and headed toward the house. “Idiot. Bryson, I’m going to clean the kitchen.”

“Sophie, I’ll take care of that.”

“No! I insist.”

Like a little puppy Doug followed after her. “If you don’t start acting a little nicer to me, there’s not a chance in hell you’ll get with all this.” His hands roamed up and down his body.

“Rest assured, there’s no part of your body I want to get with.”

The two disappeared into the house.

Stretching his arms over his head, Ronnie looked at Julia and said, “You about ready, hon?”

“Yep, we better go or I’m going to be spending the night.”

Ronnie and Colin exchanged glances then tilted their chins.

I was about to stand when Julia stopped me.

“Stay put. We’ll see ourselves out, Bryson.”

“I’m so glad y’all came tonight.”

Julia leaned down, giving me a hug. “Thanks for everything.” She patted Hart’s shoulder. “You behave yourself.”

“That’s no fun.”

Ronnie gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Bryson.”

Colin gave the dying fire one more poke before giving me a hug. “Bryson, thanks for an awesome night.”

It was obvious all the guys looked out for Hart and had his back. But it didn’t take long for me to figure out Colin was the soft-spoken ringleader. He was the one who made sure things happened like tonight, getting Hart up the steps, allowing us to have a night at my place.

I looked up at Colin with grateful eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

He gave me a wink, letting me know he understood what
everything
meant.

“I’m gonna go inside and piss Doug off. Just let me know when you’re ready.” He told Hart.

As soon as the threesome were out of view, I nuzzled Hart’s neck, placing a soft kiss behind his ear.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said against his skin.

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

I lifted my head and locked my gaze with his. “My next place is going to be flat as a pancake.”

Cupping the side of my face, Hart threaded his fingers through my hair and pulled me into a slow deep kiss. As his tongue swirled and stroked mine a moan escaped me.

He broke the kiss and whispered, “I love you, Bryson.”

“I love you with my heart and soul.”

“You’re always trying to one up me in the romance department.”

I chuckled then planted a firm kiss in the center of his mouth.

Hart patted my ass. “I gotta go. Colin and Doug are waiting for me.”

I stayed in Hart’s lap all the way to the front porch where Colin and Doug were patiently waiting. The guys lowered him off the steps. Wrapping my arms around my body, I leaned a shoulder against one of the porch columns and watched as each guy got into their cars. I hated that so many people had to be involved just for him to come over. Hart maneuvered through life with such ease I forgot sometimes he faced limitations. What looked effortless to the naked eye was in fact anything but that for him.

This house once gave me a sense of comfort and security. I remembered months ago sitting on my bed with papers fanned out in front of me, desperate to figure out how I could financially remain here. Looking at Hart getting into his car, I realized I had those things as long as he was by my side, no matter where we were. And I didn’t want to be anywhere he couldn’t be.

Me:
Hey, It’s almost June and we still haven’t discussed the divorce settlement. I’ve been holding off going to a lawyer because I felt it would be better if we discussed details first. I called you last week but it went straight to voicemail. Please respond soon. Will, we both need to move forward with our lives.

“How long has it been since Mr. Forsyth moved out of the home?”

Shana Rafkin hadn’t made eye contact since our initial introduction fifteen minutes ago. The short pudgy blond pitbull of an attorney sat across the dark conference table scribbling notes on her yellow legal pad.

The last text I sent Will had been a month ago and remained unanswered. I was tired of trying to figure out his motives for the avoidance. I needed to move on from the limbo I’d been in the last year and a half.

“Actually we’ve been kind of living separate lives since last January . . .”

“So January 20 . . .”

“No, he didn’t move out then. We basically divided the house in two with him downstairs and me upstairs. I’m not sure why I didn’t ask him to move out then. I knew the marriage was over. But you see, Will and I had been together since high school and . . .”

Her dark beady eyes lifted up. “I don’t care about any of that. All I need is the date he physically moved out of the home.”

I was taken aback by her cold tone and abruptness. I hired this woman because one of Sophie’s co-workers highly recommended her. I also thought a woman lawyer would be more sympathetic and understanding. As I stared at Shana I felt my eyes mist over.

Swallowing the small lump that had formed in my throat, I said, “Um . . . well . . .”

“Listen, Mrs. Forsyth, I don’t mean to sound blunt or short with you but you’re paying me to get you financially divorced from your husband. Use your family, friends, and/or counselor to get you through the emotional aspect.”

Squaring my shoulders, the tip of my tongue ran over my dry lips. “Eight months.”

She gave me a curt nod, her gaze dropping as she jotted down the information.

“Will this be uncontested?” She glanced up when I didn’t answer. “You both agree to the divorce?”

“Will fought it in the beginning. I guess he’s onboard now. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

Scribble. Scribble.
“Was there infidelity during the marriage from either of you?”

My chest tightened. “Will had intimate contact with other women online.”

“Did he have sex with any of them?”

“Um . . .”

“Mrs. Forsyth, did your husband ever have sexual intercourse with any of these women?”

“Technically no.”

Dark eyes shot up at me. “I don’t understand.”

“They weren’t in the same room when they did things to themselves. I mean the women were on the screen or on his phone.”

“The court doesn’t acknowledge that as infidelity.”

“They should. The betrayal hurts just as much,” I whispered.

“Be that as it may . . . has your husband ever had real-life sexual intercourse with other women?”

“He’s always denied it.”

“Do you have any proof to the contrary?”

“No.”

The rest of the hour was spent with Shana grilling me about each and every aspect of my financial life with Will. After listening to Sophie for the umpteenth time I had decided to ask for what I was entitled to, half of the profits from the sale of the house, half of Will’s pension, and my car. I wasn’t asking for alimony and as far as the furniture and other items in the house, I wasn’t going to argue over petty things.

Shana capped her pen, closed folders, gathered papers, and fired off information. “It will take about ten days to put the settlement agreement together. We’ll email you a copy to go over before sending to Mr. Forsyth. Once you proof the document let us know if there are any changes that need to be made. Hopefully, your husband will sign with little to no argument. After he signs then I’ll request a court date. He doesn’t have to be there. You’ll only be in court for ten or fifteen minutes. You will need a witness to testify that you and Mr. Forsyth have been living apart. This could be a family member or friend, preferably female. The judge will ask you a few questions. Nothing to be nervous about. Not that I think you’ll do any of these things but I tell all my client three things. Don’t be late to court. Don’t bring a new boyfriend or fiancé to court. And don’t wear revealing clothes to court. Any questions?”

“Is there a deadline for when Will has to sign the papers?”

Her lips pressed into a straight line. “Unfortunately, no. You can’t make someone sign a document. I assume he’ll have an attorney look it over. We’ll take it from there.”

And with that I shook the pitbull’s paw and played the waiting game.

Other than the part of my life stuck in the past, the present was incredible and the future hopeful. Will was served the separation settlement document the end of June. Three months passed with summer turning into fall and still no response. It was as if he’d dropped off the face of the earth.