We sit and talk for a while. She talks about adjusting to living in a small town and I blow her away with the fact that after being in Fayhill for a few years, Lexington feels like a city. I tell her stories about the service and she shares memories of Minnie and her growing up.
“I should probably sit with my friends. Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t been over here harassing us.”
“Nah, they probably feel bad for upsetting you.”
Standing from her spot, I follow suit as the music slows down and couples start filling the dance floor. Not second guessing myself, I ask, “How about a dance?”
“What?”
“A dance? Spin around the dance floor?”
“Oh . . . shit. I guess I have to.”
Taken aback by her response, I open my mouth to revoke the offer when she smacks her hand to her mouth.
“Omigod, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that Minnie said if someone asked me to dance, I had to say yes. Here you are . . . asking. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would ask, so I didn’t argue with her.”
“Well then, we can’t have you backing out of the agreement. Shall we?” Lifting my elbow to her, she giggles and slips her hand through the crook as I guide her in the direction of her friends. We don’t bother stopping as she tosses her purse on the table.
I hear the whispers behind us and take her hand, spinning her out and then back to me. A new version of my favorite smile greets me as her left hand settles on my shoulder. Eyes bright and full of life, she looks at me and scrunches her nose.
“Do not tell me you took dance lessons.”
“Nope. No lessons, unless you consider watching old Fred and Ginger movies with my mom. It was kind of our thing.”
“Grant Ellison, you cannot tell women that. You’ll have them falling at your feet in no time.”
Pulling her a little closer, I ignore her comment and all the reasons I want to say she’s the only woman who interests me. We fall in step together, the movements seamless as one song turns into two.
“So, if you had to say yes to a dance, what did Minnie have to do?”
“She can’t get too drunk. Last time the girls went out, she started undressing in the front yard before Owen could get her inside. You know that song ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off”?”
“Yeah,” I say between chuckles as I spin her a few times and draw her back to me.
“That was her.”
We continue to dance until the music starts to pick up in tempo. As much as I can spin a lady around the dance floor to a slow song, the faster stuff is far outside my comfort zone.
Releasing her from my arms, I don’t release her hand. Looking at me, she smiles, a blush covering her creamy skin. Seconds pass between us, neither of us moving.
“Thank you for the dance.”
“My pleasure, Dakota. I’m heading back to Fayhill tomorrow to grab the last of my stuff and turn in my keys. Maybe when I get back, we can get coffee or even dinner.”
Sighing, she drops my hand and says, “Grant, I told you—”
“Friends, I promise. I like spending time with you. Besides, you’re my realtor and my deal isn’t done. Technically, we’re still working toward purchasing my house.”
Rolling her eyes, she gives me a small grin, one that one may call a mischievous smirk. As she walks past me, her eyes catch mine over her shoulder, “Call me when you get back. Drive safe.”
Chapter 17
Dakota
It’s amazing how time can speed by in many instances and drag on for an eternity in others. For example, when there’s five minutes before I’m officially late for an appointment, time flies by in what feels like seconds.
A thirty second plank? Those thirty seconds feel like hours. Arms shaking, glutes tight and screaming in agony, it takes all of my energy to not drop my body to the floor. Really, who’s going to know besides me? The girls are already at school and I’m here alone. Well, me and Kelly Clarkson. She’s really too supportive with all this Stronger business.
Exhaling, I glance to the timer on my phone. Twelve seconds. Might as well be twelve years. I can do this. I’m strong. I’m determined. I’m also really hoping to eat half a pizza tonight and will feel better about it if I finish . . . the alarm beeps and I do the only logical thing.
Drop my body to the yoga mat with a thud. I don’t care that I’m lying in a puddle of my own sweat. Unfortunately, I can’t lie here all day and nap. I have new clients meeting me at the office in two hours. With a groan, I push myself into downward dog and stay in the position for a count of ten, allowing the tension to fall from my body.
Once I’ve risen and let the blood rush from my head, I look at the mat.
“Eww.”
I quickly grab antibacterial wipes from the kitchen and clean the mat before rushing to the shower. As I do most days, I begin a list of things to do in my head. If I let my hair dry naturally, embracing the loose waves that have appeared since having Cali, I’ll have just enough time to get our dinner in the slow cooker. Ari’s dance bag is already in the car so that’s one less thing to remember.
Rinsing the conditioner from my hair, I check a few more things off my mental checklist, remembering to ask the sellers of Grant’s house about the appliances. Like it often does, my body reacts to the thought of the man who has been occupying most of my spare thoughts over the last week. Jolts of excitement and nerves flow through my veins. Internally, I’m a squishy mess of emotions. Physically, my body reacts in a way that has been dormant since the accident.
Plain and simple, thinking of Grant and the way he held me while we danced at Country Road sends shivers up my spine. The way he looked at me and spoke to me in a hushed tone spikes my heartrate. My nipples harden not from the cool air of the bathroom but because I can imagine what it would be like being that close to him without clothes.
I need to get it together and stop acting like some pathetic lovesick teenager. Quickly turning off the water and stepping from the shower, I towel off and slip my arms into the sleeves of my cozy robe. I’ve lost valuable time daydreaming and now have to rush through my makeup and hair routine.
Sure, I’ve been talking about dating with my therapist and my sister. But it’s been just that. Talk. I didn’t actually plan on following through anytime soon. I’m not ready. My girls aren’t ready. As a family we have to be prepared to bring someone else into our lives. Or do we? Dating me doesn’t have to mean dating my children. I don’t have to bring the two parts of my life together.
I need to talk to someone who has been through this. Scarlett’s story is different than mine. We’ve both faced tragedy and loss but handled it in ways that are polar opposites. Regardless of our coping mechanisms, if anyone will understand my dilemma, it’s her.
I slide the closet hangars back and forth trying to pick something to wear for the day. Yesterday I took a young couple to look at a new development on the edge of town. It made choosing what to wear much simpler than today. Like with Grant, Mr. and Mrs. Blankly have no idea what type of home they’re looking for, other than four walls and at least an acre of land.
Opting for a knee length black skirt and a deep purple sweater, I grab my knee-high boots with a flat sole. If I end up traipsing through the dirt, at least I won’t fall. Before getting dressed, I tap out a quick message to Scarlett.
Me: Morning. Do you have plans tonight?
Scarlett: Good morning. Probably a bubble bath and a smutty romance. Why? What’s up?
Me: Want to grab dinner?
Scarlett: Yes please! I’ll start getting ready now.
Me: Oh boy. Everything okay with you?
Scarlett: Just a teething baby and a fiancé working a few closing shifts.
Oh my poor friend. Nick is a sweet boy, but even the easiest-going baby can act like the worst version of himself when teething. I’ve grown accustomed to being alone at night, but it’s something Taylor and Scarlett try to avoid.
Me: Yikes. I ne
ed to get to the office, but I’ll touch base later. How about sushi? Scarlett: Now you’re talking my love language.
Scarlett: Not that I don’t love you getting me out of the house, but is everything okay?
Me: It is. I just need your advice.
Scarlett: Ohhhhh girl talk. I approve.
Gosh, I love her. I’m so glad Taylor brought her back to Lexington. He will never know how having a friend like her has been life changing. My sister is my best friend, but she’s still my sister. It’s hard for her to be impartial and help me sort through a lot of my feelings. Our other friends are great but they’re Minnie’s friends. With Scarlett, she’s my friend. We have young children and both lost our husbands unexpectedly. Similar situations bond people in a way others don’t know. And, I pray our friends never have to.
“Do you think the server is judging me?”
I smirk at Scarlett over my water glass. Normally I wouldn’t falter answering her, but truthfully, I saw some judgment.
“You do, don’t you? Should I cancel some of my order? Where is she?”
“I doubt she’s judging you. Maybe a little baffled how someone so tiny plans to eat three rangoons and four rolls.”
Scrunching her nose, Scarlett sips from her martini glass, and I can practically see her thoughts flashing across her face. She’s expressive, like my own little sitcom at the dinner table.
“Maybe when she comes back, I’ll explain I was fasting all day so I could indulge tonight. Do you think she’ll buy that?”
“Nope. Just accept the judgment and move on.”
“It isn’t the first time I’ve been judged for my eating habits, and surely it won’t be the last.”
The server returns with the appetizer and Scarlett opens her mouth to state her position but catches my eye before doing so. Rolling her eyes, she leans back in her seat and smiles at the young woman before saying a simple, “Thank you.”
“I’ve been good all day. Not one single text. I was an angel on the drive here. I didn’t pry and I didn’t nudge you to share. That time is over. Dish.”
I suppose it was wishful thinking on my part that she’d forget I needed advice. Her eyes are dancing, not at the idea I’m about to let her in on but at the little fried goodies on her plate. Can’t say I blame her.
Nibbling on my lip, I look over her shoulder and watch the sushi chef focus on his craft. The job requires concentration and precision while also giving a bit of a show for those sitting in front of him at the bar. Sometimes I feel like that chef. I wonder if Scarlett does too.
“Do you ever feel like everyone is watching you? Waiting for you have a breakdown?”
“Sometimes. Honestly, it’s not as bad since I moved to Lexington and started my life with Taylor. When I was still in Fayhill? Yes. Every single day.”
“I moved to Lexington after the accident. After treatment and a lot of work on myself. I’m grateful for the programs that helped heal my body from the injuries I sustained but also what the pills did to my mind and my body. Yet, I still feel like everyone around me knows. That they’re just waiting for me to relapse and my sister swoop in and save the day. Again.”
The feeling of her hand atop mine draws my attention to her. I don’t see pity from her, only understanding. Sympathy.
“Dakota, while I can’t speak for everyone in town, I can say the people in your life, the ones who know you and love you . . . we don’t judge. We aren’t waiting for some sort of epic meltdown. You are a strong woman who has endured more than most will ever understand, me included.”
“What if I were to begin dating? How would everyone look at me?”
Eyes wide and a huge smile on her face, the idea of me dating has sparked something inside her. Joy vibrates off her like a mini earthquake, and I’m a little nervous she may break out in song or something.
“Ohmygosh! Are you ready to date? Who? Is there someone? Is it a client? Some sexy millionaire who wants to sweep you off your feet and shower you with lavish gifts?”
“Umm . . . okay, that’s random. No millionaires for me and I can’t be swept anywhere. At this point, sweeping my floor is about as much as I can ask for.”
Snorting a laugh, she stuffs a rangoon in her mouth and chews while motioning for me to continue.
“This last year I worked hard to find myself again. I’m more than the labels bestowed upon me, whether by myself or others. Jeff would want me to move forward. I don’t know that I’ll ever let him go, but there might be room for someone else. How will I find out if I don’t put myself out there?”
Wiping tears that fall, I look at my lap, taking slow deliberate breaths to regulate my breathing and ward off other tears pooling in my eyes. I’m not sad but talking about a future, making changes to the life I’m currently living, is overwhelming. Thinking of Jeff always tugs at my heart but unlike the past, this isn’t a sorrow filled tug. It’s hopeful.
“Do you feel like you need to explain yourself? That the people in your life will judge you?”
Shaking my head, I don’t respond immediately. Of course there’s a possibility my in-laws won’t understand or accept anyone I bring into my life, into the girls’ lives. Although they’ve both assured me they want me to find someone to love me and fill the void their granddaughters have with the loss of their father, I would be remiss to believe they’ll just roll with it seamlessly.
“It’s been years and the only people in my life who knew me with Jeff are family. My family would love for me to date and get out of the house. Jeff’s parents may have to ease into the idea, but they’re hours away and know that no matter what happens, they are the girls’ grandparents and will always be in their lives.”
“Then what’s the issue? Have you already met someone?”
“This is awkward. We’re friends, right? You won’t judge me?”
“Only if he’s under twenty-one. I draw the line at you dating a teenager.”
Cringing, I startle when a throat clears next to us. Now would be a perfect time for the floor to open up and suck me into it. Our server, who is no longer judging Scarlett for her indulgence, is now staring at me with wide eyes and opened mouth. But, because she’s a professional, she schools her expression quickly and presents our order before scurrying away.
“Whoops.”
“You know we can never come back here now, right? You’ve ruined it for us. They think I’m some sort of creep.”
“Nah, you look too wholesome to be a creeper. A cougar, maybe.”
Throwing a dirty look her way, I do my best to ignore the conversation by paying extra attention to mixing my wasabi and soy sauce. Peeking through my lashes, Scarlett sits back in her chair, arms crossed, and brow quirked as she waits for me to continue.
“Fine. I maybe have been thinking of someone a little more often than would be considered friendly. I don’t know if the feeling is mutual, but I thought maybe . . .”
“Maybe you could get your groove back? I support this. Now, who is the lucky guy? A client? Another realtor?”
“Technically he’s a client, but he’s also a new friend.”
Silence. She says nothing. It’s unnerving. A power play. Damn her.
“Fine,” I sigh. Sitting up straight, shoulders back, I am the picture of confidence. There’s no reason to be nervous. She’s my friend. He’s her friend. Her family. She won’t judge me coming to her like its high school so I can ask my friend to ask her friend if he likes me. “It’s Grant. I was thinking maybe—”
“Yes! Not maybe. Yes. You should call him. Ask him out. Seduce him. Do all the things.”
“I was thinking coffee not seduction. You are so weird.”
Laughing, she waggles her eyebrows and pops a roll in her mouth.
Chapter 18
Grant
It’s my last morning in Fayhill. Quiet and dark, the house is empty except for the few items I’m leaving behind for the new tenants. I knew Scarlett’s friend, Mercy, and her boyfriend were looking for a new plac
e and put a good word in for them with the landlord. My new house deserves new furniture, not the second-hand crap I’ve acquired over the years. Mercy was thrilled to have the pieces she can refurbish and make their own.
With the longer escrow than I planned and the horrific wallpaper and fixtures—cocks included—it’ll be a few months until I’m in my new house. Thankfully, Dakota was able to find me a short-term completely furnished rental. I’ll be moving in next week, and until then I’ll be staying with Taylor and Scarlett, getting in ample godfather time with Nick.
The final sputters of my coffee maker pull my attention and I fill my travel cup, pouring the last bit of creamer down the drain. That’s it. My final cup of coffee in the house that helped me transition from the life I knew to the life I have. Without this house and this town, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Like Sunny Hills, I’ll always look at this place with fondness, but it’s time to move forward. My phone rings as scheduled and I sit at the table and tap the connect button. Gene’s face fills the screen, relaxed and happy as he swats at the hand of one of his grandchildren.
“Gene, don’t beat the kid.”
Ignoring me, he leans back and shouts for his daughter-in-law to rescue him from the little boy.
“Hey, Gino. Are you giving your grandpa a hard time?” I ask Gene’s namesake.
“Yep. He gets grumpy and looks like dis.” The little guy scrunches his face and points his finger my direction. I have to give the kid credit; he does a great impression.
There’s a small scuffle and the laptop shifts as Gino argues with his mom before being dragged from the room. Chuckling, I drink from my cup while Gene gets his bearings. Since his move to Florida, we’ve managed to check in once or twice a week with a video chat. As much as he hated the idea at first, he’s taken to living in the Sunshine State.
“Did you get all packed?”
“Yeah. I’m heading out as soon as we’re done.”
“Are you going to take that lady of yours out on a date?”
Cherish Her Page 10
