The Dance (53 page)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I heard the faint buzz of my phone. But I wasn’t curious enough to open my eyes and find out who was texting me early on a Sunday morning. For the past two days the weather had been rainy and chilly and the forecast was calling for more of the same today. I was too warm and cozy with my back pressed against Hart’s warm chest to care about the outside world. A faint smile crossed my lips as Hart’s hand slipped under my T-shirt and splayed across my stomach.

“You gonna check that?” he mumbled, his lips brushing over the skin just below my neck.

I wiggled into him as he placed a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Eventually.”

Five minutes later the phone buzzed with another text followed almost immediately by ringing. I reluctantly shoved my arm out from underneath the comforter and patted the nightstand, feeling for the annoyance. Blindly swiping the screen with my finger, I squinted one eye open. Seeing the name on the screen caused my lungs to fill with what felt like quicksand. I grabbed Hart’s wrist, pulling him closer before opening my other eye and reading.

Will:
Hey, I need to see you.

Will:
Bryson, we really need to talk.

Will:
I just left you a voicemail. Call me ASAP.

For months I tried to make contact with Will. A lawyer had been hired and I was ready to move forward with the divorce. I’d been extremely patient with him, waiting weeks to hear something . . . anything. Never really knowing where his head was at or if he was going to pull the rug out from under me. The fact that he was contacting me out of the blue, along with his persistence, and demanding I respond quickly had me pissed off and scared.

This was the first Sunday I’d had off in three weeks. Since I worked mainly on the weekends and Hart’s job was during the week, time together was precious. Our plans for the day had already been set—stay as naked as possible for as long as possible, sex followed by more sex, and keep well hydrated.

I slid the phone under my pillow, slid Hart’s hand farther up my body, and got back on the plan. Hart’s index finger circled around my nipple painstakingly slow just before his thumb joined in, giving it a quick pinch. Rubbing my thighs together, I rolled my hips and ass against him.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

The muffled text notification did not go unnoticed by Hart.

“Bryson, who’s trying awfully hard to get in touch with you?”

“Will,” I whispered.

Hart’s muscles tensed. “What does he want?”

“He wants to see me.”

“About what?”

Turning in his arms, I met questioning eyes. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll let my lawyer handle it.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz

Raising his hand, Hart brushed the hair from my cheek and tucked it behind my ear. “Don’t you think you should at least tell him that?”

I hesitated for several seconds as I gazed at Hart, searching for signs of anger or jealousy. All I saw was concern and curiosity.

Running my fingernails over his back, I applied just enough pressure to scratch the surface. “I don’t want anything to ruin our plans for today.”

His hand roamed down my body, stopping at my cotton panties. “Nothing and no one is going to stop me from tapping your sweet little ass all day.” He gave it a deep squeeze.

“Wow, that’s the sweetest and crudest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“There’s more where that came from, baby.” He winked.

Lunging forward, Hart captured my mouth, his tongue making contact with mine immediately.

As he broke the kiss, he sucked hard on my bottom lip, his gaze searing into mine. “Get rid of him so I can commence the tappin’.”

As I sat up Hart’s hand landed on my lower back, causing a calmness to wash over me while I typed out the text.

Me:
Hey, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My lawyer can answer any of your questions

Will’s response was immediate.

Will:
I need to talk to you face to face. No lawyers.

My muscles tensed as an audible sigh left my body.

Propping himself up with his hands, Hart appeared next to me. “Bryson?”

I rolled my head to the side, stretching the stress out of my neck. “He insists we meet. No lawyers.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That I wish this was over and done with and I could just move forward with my life . . . with us.”

“Will’s not stopping any of that from happening.” Hart gave my shoulder a little bite.

I glanced over at him. “What do you think I should do?”

I could tell by his expression he definitely had an opinion on the matter but he wasn’t going to let me in on it.

“You know I’m here for you and will do whatever you need. But this is your decision.”

Looking straight ahead, I said, “I know . . . it’s just Will has a way of making me second guess myself.”

“Bryson, look at me.”

My body twisted in his direction.

Cupping the side of my face, his thumb glided over my cheek. “You’re a strong intelligent woman. Will can say whatever he wants but he has no control over you. Trust yourself and do what your gut’s telling you to do.”

Hart was right. In our short time together, he helped me find myself. He didn’t tell me how to act or what to say. He gave me the confidence to believe in myself and my abilities. I was no longer the girl Will could make feel less than. I was a strong independent woman and I wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from me.

Me:
Okay but it can’t be today.

Will:
When?

Me:
Wed at 1 p.m., Olympic Deli.

So no one felt as if they had the upper hand, I asked Will to meet at a neutral location. The Olympic Deli was a little Greek place that was never overly crowded, so we could have privacy. But there was enough of a customer flow that you wouldn’t want to make a scene. Hart wanted to go and hover in the background just in case I needed a dose of moral support and to keep his eye on Will. Hart was confident and secure in himself and our relationship. Jealousy never entered the equation. But he was very protective of me and didn’t trust Will. Although I loved him for offering, I had to do this by myself. Part of me didn’t want to put him in an awkward situation. The other part of me needed to prove to myself that I was as strong as Hart believed.

The days leading up to the meeting I stayed on edge except when I was with Hart. He was the only person who had the ability to calm my frayed nerves. Different scenarios played in my head about what Will would say and how I’d react. I didn’t bother to tell Sophie because I knew she would only add to my anxiety.

After so many months apart it was going to feel strange and difficult to see Will. No matter what caused the end of our relationship, he had played a significant part in my life. I had two goals when the divorce came to an end and all ties with Will were severed. One, was to live a happy and purposeful life with the love of my life. Two, to wish Will the same.

On the day of the meeting I felt surprisingly calm. Before dropping my phone in my purse it buzzed with a text.

Hart:
Hey, Lovely. Wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you and know you’re gonna handle things great. I love you.

The warmth surrounding my heart quickly spread to the rest of my insides. I don’t know how he did it but Hart’s timing and words were always perfect.

Me:
Hey, Handsome. Getting ready to leave in just a minute. I’ll let you know how it goes. Thank you for being in my life. I love you.

After wiping the goofy grin from my face, I headed toward my front door with purse in hand while pushing my other arm through the sleeve of the brown leather jacket. I was about to open the door when the doorbell rang. Prepared to make a quick excuse and getaway from whoever was trying to sell me something, I opened my mouth and the door simultaneously. Both stayed wide open as I stared at Will standing in front of me.

“Hey,” he said in a scratchy voice, a faint grin ghosted over his lips.

Him showing up here unannounced knocked me completely off balance and felt like an ambush.

My grip tightened around the doorknob. “What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet at . . .”

“I know and I’m sorry to just show up like this.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Feels pretty weird apologizing for showing up at my own house.”

“Will . . .”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be an ass. I know we agreed to meet on neutral territory but I really need to talk to you alone. Can I come in?”

I hesitated. This was my first test to see if I was the strong intelligent woman Hart kept talking about.

“Please, Bryson.”

Without saying a word, I stepped aside and let him in.

I closed the door as Will walked farther into the entryway. He looked like a stranger in a foreign land, out of place in the home he designed and built. Now that the shock of finding him on my front porch had slightly worn off, I was able to take a good look. In all the years Will and I were together, his appearance never really changed. But today he looked older, tired, and sad. I put my purse down and slipped out of my jacket. His shoulders lifted slightly and shook with a chill as a deep cough pushed out of him.

My plan was to hear what he had to say and usher him out of here as quickly. So I surprised myself when I asked, “Can I take your coat?”

“Yeah, thank you.” He shrugged off his black wool coat and handed it to me.

He was dressed head to toe in L.L. Bean. Black storm chaser shoes and a pair of black jeans along with the burgundy sweater I’d given him the Christmas before I discovered the Val text. Either the sweater had been stretched out of shape from wear or Will had lost some weight, because it didn’t fit as well over his broad chest as I remembered.

I draped his coat neatly over the banister. Standing still, I stared at the man I once thought I’d grow old with as the last of my shock wore off.

Will’s gaze frantically darted around the space. “The place looks great, Bryson. I mean, from what I can see of it. Everything running okay?”

“Yes.”

“Because I’d be happy to look at anything that needs fixing.”

“Nothing needs fixing.”

“Did you have the guy come out to do maintenance on the heating and air-conditioning unit?”

“He came out.”

We stared at each other across the entryway as the awkwardness thickened. Formality filled the air between us.

Clearing his throat, Will said, “You look great, Bryson.”

“Will, what did you want to talk about?”

“Maybe we should sit down.”

“Maybe you should just say what you came here to say.”

“Okay.” His gaze dropped to the floor as he blew out a deep breath. “Okay . . . um . . .” He looked up and straight at me. His expression was flat but his eyes were filled with fear and regret. He chewed on his lower lip, stalling.

“Will . . .”

He freed his lip and announced. “I’m sick, Bryson.”

My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

I flipped through a list of illnesses in my head trying to prepare myself for what he was about to say. Cancer was at the top of the list.

“Shortly after the first of the year I came down with what felt like the flu. You know me, I didn’t bother going to the doctor. Figured I’d just ride it out. I started feeling better but not a hundred percent. Work was crazy as usual and things between me and my parents weren’t great. They were beyond disappointed when I told them about us. Between the accident, work, and our situation, I thought it was just stress.”

“Will, please . . .”

“I’m getting to the point.” There was a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “I developed a cough I couldn’t get rid of, I was tired all the time, and started losing weight. The end of May I went to the doctor. It felt like they ran every test known to man on me trying to eliminate all the possibilities.” He paused. “The doctor finally found out what was wrong.”

“What is it?”

He inhaled a deep breath that caught in his throat, causing another cough to blast out of him. “Excuse me.”