The Dance (61 page)

I felt a hand on my shoulder just before Dr. Rudolph’s voice filled my ears. “We sedated him so he could get some rest. Apparently he’s had a lot of sleepless nights lately.”

As I over to Will’s bedside, his lids groggily opened halfway and looked up at me. I tried hard to keep my expression pleasant, wanting to give him hope that things weren’t as bad as he might think. A faint smile ghosted over his pale lips as recognition filled his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered through the oxygen mask. His voice was so weak the word was barely audible.

“H . . . ey . . .,” I stammered.

Raising his right hand slightly off the bed, Will motioned for me to lean in closer. I did.

“Reception.”

It took me a second but then realized he was referring to my work.

“What about it?” I said.

“Get out of here and go to work.”

I choked back a sob. He knew how important the reception was to me. The day Nancy assigned it to me, I was beside myself happy. After work I went home to change before going to Hart’s. When Will asked me how my day went, I told him about the event and that it was my chance to really prove myself to Nancy. Looking in from the outside, no one would realize what a huge moment this was in mine and Will’s history. It was the first time that he put my needs before his own.

I swallowed hard and said, “I’ll be back as soon I can get away.”

He shook his head. “Rest. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Just then my phone buzzed. As I went to turn it off, I glanced down and saw a string of panicked texts from Tommy wanting to know where I was.

Placing my hand on top of his cold one, I gave Will a warm smile. “I’ll be back soon, okay.”

Will nodded and closed his eyes. Before leaving, I studied the lines and wrinkles of his face. The disease had accelerated the aging process, turning months into years. My phone buzzed again jarring me into action. I reluctantly backed away from Will’s bedside, my eyes staying focused on him, until I had to turn and leave.

I hit the hallway running, making a quick stop at the nurse’s desk to pick up the information Dr. Rudolph wanted me to read. As I sprinted out to my car, I called Tommy to let him know I was on my way. He picked up immediately.

Before he said the first word, I blurted out, “I’m on my way!” Gasping for air.

“Oh my god, Bryson! I’m about to have a heart attack! I’ve literary aged ten years. I’m so stressed out!”

Tommy could be a bit over dramatic.

“Calm down. I’m sorry. I’ll be there in four minutes.”

I ended the call, tossing my phone on the passenger’s seat. Driving back to work, I took several deep breaths, attempted to clear my mind and focus on the task at hand. If today was any indication of what’s to come I prayed that I’d be up for the challenge.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house nothing was stirring, not a mouse, not me, nor even a spoon. Between work, visiting Will, and spending time with Hart, I was completely exhausted. From the moment I woke up my body was in constant motion. At night when I tried to go to sleep, my head would spin with everything I needed to do for the next day. I tried hard to stay present and focused on the task in front of me but half the time I didn’t know which end was up. I was stretched in all direction, doing everything but not to the best of my abilities.

Nancy was so impressed with the job I’d done on the wedding reception she put me in charge of even larger events. The confidence she had in me was a huge ego boost. Too bad I was too tired to enjoy it. Since the hospital was right around the corner from work, I stopped in to see Will whenever I got a chance. I’d neglected my family and Sophie for the past month opting instead to grab what little free time I had with Hart. Recently my time with him had been relegated to phone calls and texts. He was understanding but it was wearing on him and me. Hart was my safe place, my strength, and the calming force in my life. I missed seeing him, kissing him, lying next to him. I missed us.

There weren’t enough hours in the day, days in the week, or weeks in the month to make it all work. My stress level was off the charts. I was so overwhelmed with everything going on, my mind went blank when it came to figuring out how to divide up my holiday. I wanted to spend it with Hart but I couldn’t take him to my parents since our relationship had to stay a secret. I ended up lying to Mom, Dad, and Ryan, telling them what I had with Hart turned out to be just a fling. It physically hurt me to say he and I had broken up. Soon after telling them, Will moved back in. Three sets of eyebrows raised when they found out.

In the blink of an eye, Christmas Eve had arrived.

The tradition in my family had always been to have a casual dinner Christmas Eve and attend midnight Mass. Desperately needing alone time with Hart, I bowed out of the tradition. I explained to Mom I thought I was coming down with a bug and needed to be completely rid of it before Will would be allowed to come home. She understood, telling me to go straight to bed. Instead, I went straight to Hart’s.

With my purse in one hand and Hart’s gift in the other, I ran toward his house. I couldn’t get up the steps fast enough. The second my foot hit the porch the front door swung open. Butter came bounding out barking and wagging.

Taking my wrists, Hart tugged me just inside the door and into his lap. My purse and his gift fell to the floor as our lips got reacquainted. Butter barked her way inside as Hart rolled us backward farther into the house, pushing the door closed with a tap of his footrest. Once safely out of sight of the neighbors our hands had a free for all. Hart fumbled with the big buttons on my coat. Finally freeing all of them he shoved the heavy wool off my shoulders as I pulled my arms from the sleeves. His hands ran across my thighs, over my ass, and up my back, while mine alternated between his torso, arms, and hair. Finally, we both came up for air.

With our foreheads resting together, our chests pushed against each other as we gasped for a breath. Hart’s hands continued traveling the same path over my body only this time slowly. My fingers stayed deep in his hair. I just wanted to feel him—his presence and love. We stayed in this position for several minutes. The only sounds in the room were our heavy breathing, Butter’s distant panting, and the holiday music playing.

Suddenly, the smell of pork and candied sweet potatoes filled my senses.

“You cooked?” My brows knitted together, as I remembered Hart’s last attempt at a meal.

“I haven’t seen you in a week . . .”

“Eight and a half days.”

“I haven’t seen you, kissed you . . .” He nibbled my lips. “. . . Or touched you . . .” His hand grazed my inner thigh. “. . . In eight and a half days and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?”

“Well, your tongue has been in there since I came through the door.”

The tip of his tongue rolled over his bottom lip as his gaze bounced from my mouth to my eyes. That move. Got me. Every time. My hips wiggled in his lap. Hart ran his nose along mine, then to my cheek, my jaw, finally landing at the spot just below my ear. With my lips parted and my eyes half closed, I breathed in the clean spicy scent of Hart. I was primed and ready for us to continue our make-out session when I felt a cold snap where his lips had been. My nipples hardened at the vibration of Hart’s chest as a deep chuckle rumbled out of him.

Opening my eyes, I said, “Dude, you left me hanging. That’s not a very Christmassy thing to do.”

His gaze pierced my eyes. “What I’m thinking about doing to you is not very Christmassy either.”

My cheeks flushed with heat as I gave him a shy smile. “Really?”

With a raised eyebrow, he said, “Really. But first we eat.” He gave my ass a playful pop. “Up, up.”

I had offered to cook tonight but Hart refused. He seemed really excited to do this for me and I was very touched so I didn’t argue. But as memories of his prior attempt at a meal flooded my mind I wished I had at least brought some backup food.

Taking my lower lip between my teeth, I reluctantly climbed off his lap and followed him into the kitchen. “So,
you
cooked.”

“Sure did,” he said, swinging around the corner toward the oven.

“Food?” I put as much sarcasm in the one word as possible.

“Being a smartass is not very Christmassy either.”

Hart cracked open the oven door, checking whatever delicacy he had roasting. Lifting the lid off one of the pots on the stove, he stirred the mystery content a couple of times and popped the lid back on. He was very secretive and very cute. I stayed planted at the edge of the kitchen so as not to interfere with the master chef, but my curiosity was craning my neck wanting a sneak peek.

“Can I help with anything?” I offered.

He reached into the cabinet and came up with a wine glass. “Just sit down and look beautiful.”

Pulling out one of the barstools, I sat at the counter that divided the kitchen from the main living room, and enjoyed the show. The sound of Tony Bennet singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” filled the room.

“I have a gift for Miss Polly. Don’t let me forget to take it next door,” I said.

“You’ll have to hold on to it until after the New Year. She’s on a cruise with her family. An early Christmas gift from her daughter.”

“Sweet.”

Hart moved around the kitchen with such ease. He was in a pair of black jeans and matching sweater. The color brought out the darker tones of his dirty blond hair. Each time he reached for something the sweater stretched across his broad shoulders and toned back, causing tingles to pop up in all my hidden places.

I caught a flickering out the corner of my eye. When I turned to see what it was my breath was stolen. Right then I knew I didn’t care if this meal tasted like dirt and rocks, I was going to eat every last morsel and pretend it was the best thing in the entire world. The table had been set for two with the works—beautiful white and silver china with crystal goblets, candlelight, and red roses.

With my jaw slack and my eyes wide, I looked at Hart as he grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack.

“Hart . . .”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“The roses, the candlelight . . . it’s . . . you’re incredible.” My eyes misted.

Pouring the wine, he said, “You have very little faith in me as a romantic guy, don’t you?”

“No. I have very little faith that I’m worth all of this attention.”

He stopped pouring.

His gaze snapped up and zeroed in on me. “I thought we were past all that. You are worth everything to me. I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that anymore.”

Hart was always strong in his convictions. He didn’t feed my insecurities like Will had, he starved them every chance he got. That was one of the many things I loved about him.

“Thank you for loving me.”

Offering me the wine glass, he held my gaze. “It’s my favorite part of life.”

“Mine too.” I grinned, taking the glass.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before Hart abruptly announced. “Barbaresco!”

Laughter flew out of me. “Excuse me?’

“The wine.”

“My favorite!”

“I know all your favorites, baby.” He winked.

“I’ve got one helluva boyfriend.”

Focusing on the sexy man in front of me, I let the wine do its thing. This was the first time since Will came back into my life that I felt completely at ease and relaxed. I pushed the thought of him to the side before guilt settled in. I didn’t stop by the hospital after work today. Will understood but I still felt horrible. I’d neglected Hart so much lately, I was determined not to let anything get in the way of our night together.

I took in a deep relaxing breath, inhaling the saltiness of the pork mixed with the sweetness of the potatoes. As the aromas swirled around me, something smelled familiar. I took another sip of wine and tried to place it. The sound of the kitchen timer going off caught my attention.

“Lovely, you mind getting the roast out of the oven?”

Setting my wine down, I hopped off the stool. “Finally, you’re letting me help.”

I slid my hands into oven mitts and pulled down the oven door. Heat and spices slapped me in the face. Peering in, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the beautiful crown roast. Tapping the oven door closed with my knee, I placed the roast on top of the marble countertop. Turning around, I accidentally knocked into Hart, causing the gravy in the gravy boat he was holding to splash all over his sweater.