The Dance (11 page)

Up to this point no tears had been shed. The nausea had even subsided a little. Suddenly out of nowhere the sharp pain of realization pierced my stomach and spread throughout my body. I’d just discovered the person I thought I knew, the one I let into my heart, didn’t exist. Burying my face deep into the pillow, I cried until exhaustion faded into sleep.

The next morning I jolted awake. Rolling onto my back, I peeked from behind the covers over to Will’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there.

Good.

I didn’t know if or when he came to bed last night. It didn’t matter. I still wasn’t ready to face him. I needed time to process things with a clearer head.

I got out of bed, walked over to the window, and saw that his car wasn’t in the driveway.

Another good.

I shuffled into the bathroom and mindlessly locked the door as a precaution. For a split second the action surprised me. Rarely did Will come back home once he left for work. But just in case he did, I didn’t want to be caught off guard.

As the hot water drizzled down my body, I tried to look at the situation from all angles. I wasn’t that much of a prude or innocent. I grew up with a brother who was openly proud about his
Playboy
collection. And with technology being so integrated into daily life, I knew that porn was just a click away. Guys were visual creatures. Hence, the sexy shots I sent Will. But apparently I needed to upgrade my definition of porn because I was clueless that it had become interactive. And that’s the part I couldn’t handle. That’s the part that felt as if Will had reneged on our marriage vows and cheated on me.

I was to meet Sophie in a half hour for yoga class. I thought about calling it off but felt antsy and needed to get out of this house. I dressed in my black yoga pants, purple T-shirt, and orange and purple Nikes. Standing in front of the dresser mirror, I gathered up my hair into a high ponytail. No reason not to look cute just because my husband was a sex pervert. I was tired of thinking about the fact that a complete stranger, located God knows where, could cause a reaction out of my husband that I’d been unable to achieve. Plus, I knew if I went any further down that rabbit hole my worth as a wife and a woman would be completely obliterated. I needed a mental break and a change of scenery.

As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I turned on my way to the kitchen. My gaze froze on the door to Will’s office. I stopped and for a brief moment thought about going in to look around. I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d find. He took his laptop with him every day. He never locked the room so obviously he was comfortable with me going in there while he was gone. My phone chirped with a text, pushing the investigation out of my head for the moment.

Sophie:
Hey, chick! How about lunch after class?

Me:
Sure.

Sophie:
Awesome. There’s a cute new sandwich place I’ve been wanting to try.

Me:
Ok.

Sophie:
Anything wrong?

Me:
No.

Sophie:
Are you sure?

Me:
Why?

Sophie:
Cause you’re texting funny.

Me:
I’m fine. See you in a bit.

I certainly wasn’t going to ask my best friend’s advice about my husband’s screen fuck buddy via text. I was already tired of the day and it hadn’t even started yet. I needed coffee, pronto.

Sophie kept glancing over at me during our walk across the parking toward the pale blue and green studio but never asked if anything was wrong. She was a great best friend, knowing intuitively when and when not to push me for information. Adele scrunched up her face when she saw the two of us walk in class. She had taken up residence on the opposite side of the room today. I gave her a sideways glance as I unrolled my mat. She was gesturing in my direction and whispering to the middle-aged lady next to her. The lady must have been new because I hadn’t seen her here before. No doubt Adele was warning her to stay clear of the anal kitchen queen. She hadn’t spoken or come near me for months. I eased down onto my mat and laser-focused on my breathing as I stretched, waiting for class to begin.

The sandwich shop Sophie wanted to have lunch at was right around the corner from the yoga studio. It was early September and the humidity that was a Charleston staple during summer had begun to lift, so we decided to walk to the cafe. We placed our order at the counter, grabbed a couple of bottled waters from the cooler, and found a quiet corner on the outdoor patio. I cracked open my water and took a swig while looking at lunchtime people milling about the downtown market area.

“Okay, spill the beans.” Sophie demanded.

“What beans?”

“Something is obviously on your mind. We can play a few rounds of the denial game or we can cut to the chase. You should know, I’m going out of town tomorrow and won’t be readily available.”

I twisted the top back on the bottle of water. “I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than I need to. It’s probably more normal and natural than I was aware of. I probably should just erase it from my mind.”

“Probably. But you can’t and won’t. Out with it.”

A flush of heat crept over my cheeks as my chin dipped down. “I walked in on Will masturbating last night.”

My gaze shot up to meet hers. I was both afraid and curious to see her reaction. Sophie’s expression remained relaxed.

“So he spent a little time with Palmala and her five sisters.”

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. “Who?”

Sophie raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Palmala and her five sisters.”

“Ew,” I said, scrunching up my nose.

“Don’t
ew
it till you’ve tried it.”

I was about to respond when the waitress walked up with our order. I couldn’t even look at the woman when I mumbled thank you.

Sophie had a lot more experience and kept up to date on things, sexually speaking. I needed to get her gut reaction to the screen skank involvement.

Needing to keep my hands busy, my gaze stayed down as I ripped open the packet of spicy mustard and squirted it over the ham sandwich. “What do you know about cyber-sex?”

I stole a quick glance at her.

Leaning in, she turned her ear toward me. “Come again?”

“Don’t look at me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you looking at me when I tell you what I’m about to tell you. Look at your food, look at the ground, look at anything except me.”

Sophie scooted her chair away from the table, angling it so she’d be aimed toward the street. “Better?”

“Better. Thanks.” I took in a deep breath and cleared my throat. “Last night Will wasn’t able to . . . you know, while we were trying to make a baby. We had a big argument and he stormed out.”

“Of the house?” she said, looking at me sideways.

“No, he went downstairs to his office. Stop looking at me.”

Her gaze shifted back to the street.

“So I felt bad about the fight. We’ve both been stressed because of the baby thing and he’s been working really hard. I went downstairs to his office and found him doing it in front of his laptop with some other woman.”

“Can I turn around now?”

“I guess.”

Sophie adjusted her chair back to face me. “That slimy motherfucker.”

“So you think it’s wrong?”

“Goddam right I think it’s wrong.”

The weight lifted from my chest and sank to my stomach. I was relieved that I wasn’t the only one disturbed by it. I was also heartbroken. I bit my lower lip in hopes of keeping the tears that stung my eyes from falling.

“What excuse did he give you?” Sophie said.

“He doesn’t know I saw him. I ran upstairs. I don’t know if he even came back to bed. He’d already left for work when I got up this morning.”

“Did you recognize the slut?”

I shook my head. “No. She looked to be a professional. I feel like he cheated on me.” I choked on the last sentence.

Sophie reached over and placed her hand on mine. “I know some ex-Navy Seals. One call. They’ll fuck him up.” Her head and shoulders swayed like a street-smart tough girl.

“Let’s keep that option in the back pocket for now.” I paused for a minute to pull myself together. I didn’t want to have a complete breakdown in public. “He’s been pulling away from me more and more lately.”

“I know you guys have been stressing about starting a family.”

“It’s not that or his work. Something is off between us and I can’t figure out what.”

“You need to talk. He needs to explain himself.”

“I’m scared, Sophie.”

She squeezed my hand. “I know. But ignoring it won’t solve anything. It will just make things worse.”

I knew Sophie was right. Communication and trust were the cornerstones to a mature and successful relationship. Maybe there was a perfectly good reason why Will felt he needed to look elsewhere for his needs. I knew people used porn to get in the mood. I’d even heard that couples sometimes watched those movies together in order to spice up their sex life. But what Will did was the reverse. He didn’t use that woman to get in the mood for me. He left me to go be with her.

As we walked back to our cars, Sophie’s hands were waving all around while she talked excitedly about how well her job was going. I was thrilled she was so fulfilled in her career. She was an intelligent woman with drive and confidence. She deserved all her success.

Standing between our cars, we said our goodbyes with a hug.

Sophie leaned back, looked me in the eye, and said, “You know I’m here for you. Even if I’m not in town, I’m just a phone call away.”

“I know and thank you for always listening to me whine.”

“You know you’re my favorite whine-o.”

We opened our car doors in unison and slid into the seats. Before pulling out of the parking space, I scrolled through my music selection, landing on Colbie Caillat. Her songs always cheered me up when I was in a blah mood. I turned the volume way up on the tune
Dream Life
, then navigated my way out of the parking lot and onto Paul Cantrell Boulevard.

Not more than a half mile down the road, I got stopped by one of the longest traffic lights in town. Waiting, I joined Colbie on the chorus as I played drums on the steering wheel and my head bobbed to the up-tempo beat. My gaze roamed over to the passenger’s window. The most magnificent specimen of the male forearm appeared before me. It was muscular, tan, and hanging out the driver’s window of the car next to me. Ending my solo performance, I hunched down, trying to get a good look at the entire arm. A small gasp escaped me when the bicep came into view. Even relaxed the muscle was bulging. The black T-shirt hit right at the deep indention of the upper arm, revealing half of a tattoo.

I took a quick glance at the traffic light making sure it was still bright red. Then I stretched my body across the passenger’s seat pretending to reach for something on the floorboard. My gaze made one more trip up the arm, moving over the shoulder, before the guy turned in my direction. I froze, staring up at a chiseled jaw covered in golden blond scruff.

Hart Mitchell.

His head poked out the window slightly while his gaze rose along with his eyebrows as something caught his eye down the street. The sunlight lit up his face, allowing me to study his features in the short amount of time. The hint of laugh lines around his eyes and mouth gave him a sexy rugged look. His jawline was more defined and sharper. And that mouth was still mesmerizing. Today it worked a toothpick, sliding it from one corner to the other as it twirled. My eyes remained on Hart as he moved forward, turned in front of me, and rode off. A chorus of car horns filled the air, causing me to look up and realize the light had turned green.

For the rest of the day I kept myself busy. Occasionally, my mind drifted to the Hart sightings. It was so weird and random that I’d seen him again after not laying eyes on him for years. I wondered what type of man he grew into. The only encounter I had with him was at senior prom. Back then he was kind of bossy but sweet.

Pushing off from the wall, Hart commanded, “Let’s dance.”

“Huh?”

He took a couple of steps and turned toward me. “Stop already with the huhs. You heard me.”

I chuckled. “Where do you get off telling me to dance with you?”

“You know you wanna. I can see it in your . . .”

Nipples. He’s going to say, your humungous pointy nipples.

. . . eyes.”

Aw, he didn’t mention my nipples. Sweet.

“I don’t think it’s a very good idea. Will, my very real boyfriend, will go ballistic the second he sees us walk into the ballroom.”

“Not in there.” Hart reached out his hand. “In here.”

“What about your date? Where is she?” My voice was shaky.

“At the moment she’s standing in front of a fish tank not dancing with me.”

I avoided Will’s office completely, retreating to the one place that always gave me comfort, the kitchen. I was more of a foodie than a baker but once in a while I gave it a shot. Besides, I needed to eat my stress away and cake would hit the spot.