The Devil in the Saddle

by Julia London

  “They are for you! Courtesy of my ex-fiancé. He sent a truckload to my house, and I am spreading the love.”

  Jo Carol actually looked startled. “Are you reconciling?”

  Hallie laughed. And laughed. “God, Jo Carol, you’re so funny,” she said.

  Next, she went to Mariah’s shop across the street.

  “What are you doing?” Mariah said, and hurried out from around the counter to help Hallie with the box full of flowers she was carrying.

  “Bringing you flowers. They were a misdelivery.”

  “A misdelivery! How are this many flowers misdelivered?” Mariah asked, and then caught herself. “Oh. You mean you are regifting from Chris.”

  “Okay, I am regifting. I don’t want them and you do, and I need some jeans.”

  “Hello, Hallie.”

  Hallie hadn’t noticed anyone else in the shop and whipped around. Genevieve Bertram was smiling at her. She was wearing a wool dress that fit her so closely it was impossible not to notice how ballerina thin she was. Hallie used to be that thin. She didn’t think she wanted to be that thin again—it ought to be a full-on paying job to stay that thin. “Hi, Genevieve! I didn’t see you there.”

  “How are you?” Genevieve asked. She glanced at Hallie’s “Surely not EVERYBODY was kung fu fighting” T-shirt.

  “Me? I’m good! And you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you. You look great, Hallie. By the way, I didn’t want to say it when I ran into you at Thanksgiving in that crowded theater, especially while you were with that handsome man, but I’m really sorry about what happened to your, ah . . . engagement.”

  “What handsome man?” Mariah demanded.

  Hallie shot her a look.

  “Fine,” Mariah said. “You can tell me later.” She turned back to a few boxes she was unpacking.

  “Thank you, Genevieve,” Hallie said. “Better to know what sort of jerk you’re marrying before you marry the jerk, I always say.”

  Genevieve tried to smile, but the effect looked quite pained.

  “Your program was great,” Hallie said. She meant it. Okay, she might have choreographed it differently, but she could imagine corralling all those kids had been enough work in and of itself.

  “Thank you,” Genevieve said, looking pleased. “It’s been a lot of hard work. Remember Cressida Sharp?”

  Oh, but Hallie remembered Cressida, all right. She still had the occasional dream about her. Cressida was a diva, a girl who had pulled on her big-girl panties and then had strutted around as if they actually fit. “I sure do,” Hallie said, and grinned.

  “She helped me choreograph it. And by that, I mean she choreographed the solo dances. I would have thought with all the solos she had back then, she would have learned at least a few things.”

  Surprised, Hallie laughed.

  Genevieve smiled. “It’s really good to see you, Hallie. I’m living in San Antonio now, so if you’re in town and you want to have lunch, give me a call. Mariah has me on speed dial so she can lure me here with all her great sales.”

  “I would like that.”

  Genevieve started to walk away, but Hallie said, “Hey, before you go—I’ve been kicking around an idea sort of similar to what you’re doing for Kidz Korner.”

  Something flickered in Genevieve’s eyes.

  “Not like what you’re doing, I didn’t mean that,” Hallie hastened to assure her. “But remember the girl with Down syndrome in your program?”

  Genevieve nodded. “Her name is Marnie.”

  “It occurred to me that there might be a lot of kids like Marnie who would really love to dance, but are probably never going to have the skills to dance onstage with a group like yours, right?”

  Genevieve said nothing.

  “Maybe they just want to take dance,” Hallie said. “And I thought that maybe I could give them a place where they could learn to dance. Maybe even teach them? I don’t practice ballet anymore, but I still know how. I’m thinking about going back to school to get a teaching certificate. I thought maybe I could do something like that.” She realized she sounded very hopeful, as if she needed Genevieve’s approval. Maybe she did. She needed someone to tell her she wasn’t crazy.

  Genevieve blinked. “Where would you teach them?”

  Hallie hadn’t actually thought that far ahead, but when Genevieve asked, the answer jumped into Hallie’s mind so quickly that she wondered if maybe it had been there all along. “My dad left me some warehouses on the highway between here and San Antonio that are sitting empty. I have a trust, I could convert at least one of them to a dance studio.”

  Genevieve nodded thoughtfully.

  “See, I want to be involved with dance again, and while I’m never going to be a great dancer, I could still teach it. And I thought I could teach kids who might not get the chance otherwise.”

  “My niece is autistic and she loves to dance,” Mariah said. “She would give it her all, I know that. She’s always wearing a tutu.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Hallie said quickly. “I could even start a scholarship program for kids who can’t afford it.” That was another thought that just appeared on the end of Hallie’s tongue.

  Genevieve was still considering her.

  “Does this sound . . . like a good idea?” she asked hopefully.

  A smile slowly lit Genevieve’s face. “It’s actually kind of brilliant, Hallie. Kidz Korner isn’t a dance company. That’s what we did with them for one season. They’ll be doing art murals next. But your idea is fantastic. And you know what else? You were a great dancer. You probably still are.”

  Hallie laughed. “Trust me, I’m not. I went to ballet school and was asked not to return, remember?” She said it so easily—how interesting that she could say that now without it hurting like it used to. Her complete humiliation was a distant memory now. Wasn’t it Rafe who had said that grief had a way of making you see things like you needed to see them? Damn it, he was right again.

  “I always thought you were a really beautiful dancer. Your lines are so fluid and elegant.”

  Hallie’s eyes widened. “That’s what I always thought about you.”

  Genevieve laughed.

  “Were you always so kind, Genevieve? Was I just a self-centered little prig who thought only about herself?”

  “Probably,” Mariah said.

  Genevieve smiled warmly. “I don’t think my teenage self was particularly kind. The truth is that I was always so jealous of you.”

  “Of me?” Hallie laughed.

  “Yes! You were pretty and talented and, my Lord, rich like Croesus. It was a bit much at times.”

  “Still is,” Mariah said, and playfully nudged Hallie with her elbow.

  Hallie grinned. “You know what, Genevieve? I am definitely going to call you for lunch. We clearly have lots to talk about.”

  They left after exchanging numbers, and back in the car, Hallie texted Rafe. I had the most amazing idea. You’re going to love it. Plus I ran this morning and I made it two miles before my lungs collapsed into ash. Improvement!

  He responded, That’s great. Keep it up. Can’t talk now, in the middle of a big mess. Talk soon.

  Talk soon is what she and her girlfriends said when they were through with the group chats. It didn’t actually mean talk soon, it meant I’m getting off the phone now, don’t text me, I’m done with this convo.

  Hallie put down her phone. The cloyingly sweet smell of the flowers in the back made her feel a little nauseated. At least she hoped it was the flowers and not her intuition knocking on the door.

  * * *

  • • •

  Her intuition was telling her something else entirely as she dressed to meet Chris the next night. She was seated on the edge of her bed, strapping on a heel, when Luca appeared in her doorway. �
�Where are you going?”

  “Out. Why are you always here?”

  “Because I miss you so much.”

  Hallie rolled her eyes.

  “The horses are here, Hal. I rode out today to check on some things.”

  “Hey, can I stay at your loft tonight?” she asked.

  “Why? What’s up? Seriously, where are you going?”

  “If you must know,” Hallie said, and stood, smoothing the lap of her dress as she checked her outfit in the mirror, “I’m having dinner with Chris.”

  Luca’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Excuse me? You’re doing what?”

  “I’m having dinner with Chris,” she slowly repeated.

  “Hallie—”

  “I’m not getting back with him, Luca. But he won’t stop contacting me, so I thought I’d have a nice dinner with him and end this civilly. Preferably not while he’s having sex with someone else.”

  Luca leaned against the door, mollified by her explanation. “What does Rafe say about it?”

  The question caught Hallie off guard. She turned her head slowly and looked her twin up and down. “Why do you ask that?”

  He shrugged. “Just wondering if Rafe had an opinion. You two have been pretty thick lately.”

  “We’re friends.” The words rolled easily off her tongue, then stabbed her in the gut. Was that her decision? They were only friends?

  Luca chuckled dubiously. “Right.”

  “So can I stay at the loft or not?”

  “Fine. Ella and I are at her house anyway. Just one question—is Chris staying there, too?”

  “No!” she said, shocked he would even ask.

  But Luca eyed her with suspicion anyway.

  She would wonder later why she didn’t just confess to Luca what was in her heart and on her mind. But she didn’t. It was her little secret. Except that it was a ginormous secret, and it was coloring every moment of every day. Particularly because she didn’t know where her head was.

  And she couldn’t get into it now—she had another man to deal with.

  * * *

  • • •

  Chris was waiting for her at the door of the restaurant Bliss in San Antonio. He stood like a gentleman and smiled appreciatively at Hallie as she came up the walk toward him. “Gorgeous as always,” he said, and took her hand, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

  Hallie suppressed a shiver of revulsion. She looked at him and forced a smile and wondered how on earth she’d once been physically attracted to him. He was a good-looking man, she guessed, but his eyes weren’t as intense as Rafe’s, and his physique not as spectacular as Rafe’s, and his smile not as warm as Rafe’s. Chris’s belly was getting a little soft, and his arms, well . . . they were skinny compared to Rafe’s.

  But it was more than the superficial differences. It was the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the only person in the world. She had a picture of him lying in bed in Aspen. He had gazed at her with utter regard. She knew what that look was, and it was so vastly different from the way Chris had ever looked at her.

  Right now, Chris was looking at her like a puppy dog. “I got us a reservation for dinner. We’re a little early. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Could we talk a minute?” she asked.

  “Sure, of course,” Chris said. He guided her into the crowded bar area and signaled the bartender. “Two martinis,” he said, and then to Hallie, “What did you want to talk about?”

  He reminded her of a kid who was eager to rattle off his Christmas list.

  “Well, for starters, I don’t like martinis.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m not much of a drinker, to be honest.”

  “What are you talking about? We used to have martinis all the time.”

  Hallie winced. “I know we did, because you like them—not me.”

  Chris seemed confused. “Okay,” he said. “No more martinis.”

  “It’s not the martinis, Chris. It’s me. Everything we did was because you liked it. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I’m just saying that I allowed it to happen because I thought I was supposed to. I thought I was supposed to suppress myself in order to be everything you wanted me to be. You know, the perfect wife, as described to me by my mother. Or . . . society.”

  The bartender slid the martinis across the bar to them.

  “I wanted to make you happy, too, you know,” Chris said defensively, and gave the bartender a twenty.

  That was debatable. “But you didn’t lose yourself trying to make me happy. That’s the mistake I made.”

  He looked puzzled. “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that everything I did was because it met someone else’s expectation of what I was supposed to do. But I don’t think I ever really met my own expectations.”

  He frowned. “Could you be a little clearer? I’m not sure where this is taking us.”

  “Right, okay,” she said, nodding. “I guess I’m trying to tell you that I’ve changed.”

  He laughed with a hint of derision.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You haven’t changed, Hallie. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”

  His smile was so patronizing she wanted to kick him. “What spots?”

  “I’m just saying you’re a certain kind of girl. You were born for the life I could give you.”

  Well, those were fighting words. A life that he could give her? As if she had no say in it? That was exactly what was wrong with her and exactly the wrong thing to say. Hallie put her drink down. “Chris. I am asking, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, that you not call me again.”

  Chris stared at her as if he didn’t speak the language.

  “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever really did.”

  His eyes widened. The bartender retreated to the other end of the bar.

  “In a way, you did me an enormous favor when you fucked Dani. So thank you for that.” She gave him a little hand clap.

  Chris blinked. He shook his head. And then he laughed. “You really had me going.”

  “I’m very serious, Chris. To borrow a phrase from Taylor Swift, I am never ever getting back with you, and I need your shit-show of an apology tour to end. It’s really annoying. It took me two days to pass out all those flowers around town.”

  “Hallie.” He glanced around them. “You surely didn’t drag me all the way to San Antonio to tell me you don’t want to see me again.”

  “You were the one who offered to come here, remember? I didn’t ask you to dinner to tell you I don’t want to see you again, because I’ve already told you that. I wanted to see you to tell you that it’s really, seriously over, and if you don’t cut it out, I’m going to get a restraining order. That would not look good for your image, so I hope you will hear me this time, because I don’t want to do that. But I will. In a heartbeat. I like you, Chris. I think what you did was shitty, but hey, I’m over it. And I’m over you. And I really need you to stop.”

  He slumped back against the bar, his expression blank. He stared off into space for a long moment. “I don’t believe this. You never even gave me a chance to explain.”

  Now, that was funny, and Hallie couldn’t help a small giggle. She leaned closer and said softly, “Your lily-white ass riding high over Dani did all the explaining for you.” She straightened up again. “Seriously. Lose my number. Delete your account.”

  His blue eyes began to well with tears. He covered his face again.

  “Oh,” she said soothingly, and put one arm around him. “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not,” he said curtly, and moved so that she had to drop her arm from his waist.

  The hostess appeared and looked uncertainly at them.

  “Hey, you want to have dinner?” Hallie asked him. “I mean as long
as you’re here. My treat. I’m dying to know whatever happened to that nurse who was stealing OxyContin from the pill room anyway.”

  Chris sniffed loudly. He dug a handkerchief from his pocket. “She got caught.”

  “No way!” Hallie said, and linked her arm through his. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.” She nodded at the hostess.

  Chris allowed her to escort him into the dining room.

  She had a surprisingly pleasant time with Chris after the final breakup. They talked about his job, people they knew. The meal was excellent and the wine superb. At the end, Hallie gave Chris a cheerful pat on the shoulder, wished him well, and sent him off to his hotel. She walked to Luca’s loft on the Riverwalk.

  Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the couch. She pulled out her phone. It was eleven o’clock, but she texted Rafe anyway.

  You will never guess what I did tonight.

  Did you eat an elephant one bite at a time?

  Nope.

  Count your chickens before they hatch?

  Ha. No. She included an emoji of a chicken.

  March to the beat of another drummer?

  She sent a GIF of a marching band. I ended it with Chris. I mean, I ended it a long time ago. But he hadn’t, so I made sure he understood it’s done. He won’t text me again.

  There was a long pause before the three dots cropped up. Rafe’s reply was clapping hands. She was hoping for a little more than that, but she’d take it.

  She texted, When will you be home?

  Day after tomorrow.

  Will I see you?

  Of course you will.

  She sent him a GIF of a girl skipping through sunflowers.

  He didn’t respond with anything else, which seemed a bit odd.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Rafe swung by to see John Horowitz when he arrived back in San Antonio. He and Chaco had come up with an idea for how to train John. It would require some modifications to the training program, obviously, and some strength training for muscles John probably hadn’t used in a while or that were underdeveloped. Rafe laid the plan out to John. John was giddy with excitement. “When can we start?”