Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  His mother poked her head around the kitchen door frame and gazed into the living room. “You want some hot cocoa?”

  “Sure, and don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me. I mean it, Mom. When Dad died, I’m sure he didn’t expect you to stay a single widow forever. It’s been thirteen years and you still haven’t seriously dated anyone.”

  She emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with two steaming coffee mugs in her hands and a stubborn expression on her face. She walked toward Xavier and handed him one of the mugs. “Thanks for the romance advice, but I’d focus more on your love life than my own.”

  Xavier sat on the sofa while she took one of the nearby armchairs. The dogs plopped on the rug between them.

  Xavier stared at his mother, now baffled. He took a drink from his mug. “What’s wrong with my love life?”

  “Well, what’s the story with Dawn Gibbons, for one?”

  He shook his head, puzzled by the subject change. “Well, you spoke to her at the party, didn’t you? She’s Herb’s daughter. She works at a gallery in D.C. as a—”

  His mother shook her head. “I know who she is and what she does, sweetheart. I talked to her last week. She seems like a very charming, intelligent woman. What I mean is, what’s the story with you and Dawn Gibbons?”

  Xavier gaped. How the hell did his mother know about Dawn? He hadn’t told anyone about his mixed feelings toward her. How had his mother found out?

  “I have no idea what you mean,” he said softly with a forced laugh, letting his gaze drift to his coffee mug, deciding to play stupid. He drank some of his cocoa.

  Leslie Ann sighed heavily. “I mean are you having sex with her, Xavier?”

  At that, he almost spat out his cocoa onto the living room floor, but instead swallowed the burning liquid in one gulp, scorching his throat. He coughed into his fist.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He nodded then finally stopped coughing. “Of course I haven’t had sex with her!” he said between gasps. “What the hell... Why would . . . Why would you ask me a crazy question like that?”

  Her face softened. “I didn’t think you had, but frankly, your behavior last week left me a bit confused. The whole night at dinner you had your arm wrapped around Constance but your eyes on Dawn. I noticed. It was hard not to. If you didn’t stop staring at her like that, I thought you were gonna make your fiancée jealous.”

  Damn, was I that bad? Had Constance noticed too? That would definitely explain why she had been so clingy during dinner and had practically jumped him that night after the party.

  “I thought it would be funny to rib you about it,” his mother continued, “but then I noticed Dawn stealing glances at you too, so I knew something was going on. I’ve never known you to be a cheater, so I wanted to know what it was.”

  He clenched his jaw and put his mug on the oak coffee table. “Nothing’s going on between us. You’re mistaken, Mom.”

  “Not only are you not a cheater, but you’re not a good liar either, so don’t start now.”

  Xavier looked down at the Afghan rug beneath his feet and gnawed the inside of his cheek as he contemplated telling his mother the truth. But he didn’t know how to say it. What would she think of him if he admitted he was attracted to his fiancée’s sister? What would his mother think if he admitted that not only was he attracted to Dawn, but he also suspected he was starting to fall for her? He would be declaring that not only could he feel himself drawing closer and closer to doing something that would break Constance’s heart, but he also wasn’t the loyal and reliable man he had always believed himself to be. He would be declaring himself to be no better than that asshole Byron Lattisaw.

  “I’m telling you the truth. Nothing’s happened.”

  “But you’ve thought about it?”

  He didn’t answer her, but instead kept his eyes downcast.

  “Hon, why are you marrying Constance?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Mom, we’ve been through this before.”

  “That girl is shallow. She doesn’t match you at all!”

  He laughed ruefully, finally meeting his mother’s eyes. “So what are you saying? Are you suggesting that I marry Dawn instead? Constance said that’s what you probably wanted, but I told her she was wrong. Now I’m starting to wonder!”

  Leslie Ann sat aside her mug on a nearby end table. “Not marry her. Of course not! But at least she seems to have more going on than Constance Allen! She matches you! Dawn is sophisticated, articulate. She’s an artist and a gallery director—”

  “You’ve also failed to mention that she’s been divorced twice,” he countered, playing devil’s advocate. “And she’s probably been through more boyfriends than any woman who—”

  “So she’s divorced! So are half of the people who’ve ever been married. So she has boyfriends! You told me that I should get out and date and have some fun! Now you’re looking down on her for doing the same?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. Dawn has got a lot of mileage behind her and—”

  “Mileage? Well, aren’t we being judgmental! Would you say the same if she were a man?”

  “We wouldn’t be having the conversation if she was a man, Mom!”

  “At least she has a real job!” his mother continued, ignoring his sarcasm. “What does Constance do for a living?”

  “Constance works part-time. You know that.”

  “Works part-time? You mean that little clothing boutique job she does three days a week when she feels like it?” She blew air through her pert, freckled nose. “Admit it! That girl does nothing except spend poor Herb’s money! I swear she has cobwebs between her ears with how empty her head is.”

  “Look, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you talk trash about my fiancée. Constance is the right woman for me. She . . . she makes me happy. She fits me. We make sense!”

  “She makes you so happy that you’re making wolf eyes across the dinner table at her sister?” his mother asked incredulously.

  Xavier clamped his mouth shut, pushing down his frustration. He rose to his feet. “Well, that was a nice visit,” he muttered dryly, reaching for his coat. “I guess I’ll head back to—”

  His mother grabbed his wrist. He turned toward her.

  “Hon, I’m not trying to make you angry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later. I married your father because I loved him. Because I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in the world but him. I don’t want you to get married because you feel it’s the right thing to do, because you feel it’s your obligation.”

  “You think I’m marrying her because I feel obligated to do it?”

  His mother released his wrist. “I think you’ve been incredibly grateful to Herb for all the things he’s done for you since your dad died, for him being there for you. You tried to hide it from me, but I knew you took it just as hard as I did. Maybe . . . maybe even worse,” she said softly. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I know you, Xavier. You believe in doing the right thing, the honorable thing, and you want to pay back Herb. What better way to pay him back than by marrying and taking care of his daughter?”

  Xavier grimaced, feeling a punch to the gut at his mother’s words. He wanted to deny it, to argue that what she was saying wasn’t true. But he knew deep down that in many ways, it was. Yes, he thought Constance was beautiful and he was attracted to her. Most men would be. But was he in love with her? Was he in love with her the way his parents had been in love with each other? Xavier had always assumed that his desire to protect her was love. Constance was so innocent and naïve. She needed to be taken care of and shielded from the disappointments and realities of the world, as Herb had done for him thirteen years ago. But was that love?

  Shit, Xavier thought as the realization swept over him.

  Lenny rose to his feet and bumped Xavier’s knee with his nose in sympathy, sensing Xavier’s mood shift.

  “Please think about i
t,” his mother persisted. “Think about what you really want.”

  But what he really wanted wasn’t what he could have. He was about to marry a woman even though he was falling in love with her sister, a sister who had said several times that she had no time for men or the distraction they presented. And Dawn was a complicated woman with a less-than-stellar past. She was nowhere as simple as Constance. A woman like Dawn could only lead to heartbreak and frustration. There was no way he was tearing his life apart and hurting most of the important people in his life for someone like her. He couldn’t and wouldn’t risk everything for what could be nothing more than a meaningless fling to her.

  He knew what he had to do. He had to stick to his word. He would keep a respectful distance and expunge Dawn from his mind and his heart as much as possible.

  Chapter 19

  Dawn was removing the last of the easels and paint supplies from the classroom closet, preparing for the start of her art class when she heard Xavier’s voice. It drifted in from the hallway and a faint smile came to her lips.

  She hadn’t seen him since his birthday dinner and that disastrous night with Hosea, and she hadn’t had the chance to give Xavier his gift when she’d rushed out after catching him and Constance together. She had brought the gift today with the expectation of eventually running into him. The instant she heard his voice, she rushed across the classroom, grabbed the gift bag from her desk, and dashed into the hall.

  “Hey! I’m glad I finally ran into you!” she shouted with a grin. “I wanted to . . .”

  Her words faded when she realized he wasn’t alone. She found him strolling with a dowdy-looking older white woman who was wearing an oversized green sweater, long skirt, and Crocs. Her long brown hair was held back by a yellow scrunchie. She stared at Dawn quizzically.

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I-I didn’t know you were with . . . I mean, I didn’t know that you were busy,” Dawn said. “I can come back later.”

  Xavier shook his head and motioned her forward. “No need to apologize.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Margaret, this is Dawn. Dawn, this is Margaret. Dawn is our current art teacher.” He gestured to Margaret. “Dawn, Margaret’s volunteering at the community center starting next month and I was showing her around, giving her a feel for the place.”

  Dawn extended her hand to her for a shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The woman nodded timidly before hesitating and shaking Dawn’s hand. “Same here.”

  The three fell silent and Dawn looked expectantly at Xavier, then Margaret.

  “So you’re volunteering?” Dawn asked, trying her best to make conversation. “Well, that—that’s great! Welcome aboard. I know we’ve been shorthanded. It’s always nice to have more people. I know we’ve been looking for an assistant football coach too. I could be wrong, but I guess you aren’t filling that position.”

  Margaret grinned for the first time. Her mousy face brightened. “No, actually, I studied folk art at Bryn Mawr and I work out of my studio in Arlington. I’ve always been interested in teaching. I thought this might be a wonderful opportunity to explore it here.” She fidgeted with the strap of her leather satchel. “Xavier said the children can be a rowdy bunch, but I’m . . . I’m willing to try.”

  “Well, he’s right. They’re rowdy but tamable. Besides, I’m sure we could tag-team them. I’m more than willing to help out a fellow art teacher.” She turned to Xavier. “So we’ll have two teachers now, huh? I didn’t know you guys were so invested in the art program. Are you adding more classes for the kids?”

  Xavier loudly cleared his throat. “Uh, no, actually. Those, uh . . . Those plans aren’t in the works right now.” He turned back to Margaret and pointed down the hall. “So would you like to see our gym? I don’t know if you’ll be using it often, but—”

  “You’re not adding any art classes?” Dawn asked, now confused. “What do you mean you aren’t adding any? Are she and I sharing a class, then?”

  Dawn noticed the friendly expression on Xavier’s face begin to falter. “Uh, can’t really say. We can . . . we can work through the details later, though.”

  Dawn nodded, though her confusion was slowly turning to uneasiness. Why was Xavier being so evasive?

  “Well, enjoy your tour,” she said to Margaret, deciding to let the subject drop—for now. “Sorry for interrupting.”

  “No problem at all.” Margaret nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dawn.”

  Dawn watched the two walk down the brightly lit hallway and disappear around the edge of the corridor. She glanced down at the gift bag in her hand, not quite sure what to do with it now.

  Dawn managed to put thoughts of their conversation aside during her class, getting easily distracted by trying to simultaneously keep the attention of and keep the peace among the more than two dozen teenagers she taught that day. Between one paintbrush-flinging incident that almost caused a fight among a couple of boys and trying to explain the intricacies of shading to her students, she had little time to think about Xavier or his caginess.

  “Okay, that’s it for the day, guys!” she said at the end of class. She dropped her paintbrush into a water-filled can. The kids began to gather their backpacks and loudly stream out of her classroom. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” She cupped her hands around her mouth so that she could be heard over the clamor. “And stay out of trouble!”

  A few of the students muttered replies and good-byes before running out the door into the hall.

  Dawn shook her head and turned her attention to cleaning up the room. Though she asked the children to clean their paintbrushes at the end of each class, only two-thirds of them actually did it. She started to walk toward the back of the room to gather dirty brushes and scrub them at one of the industrial sinks down the hall when she heard a soft knock at the door. She turned to find Xavier leaning against the door frame.

  “You busy?” he asked.

  “Not really. Just tidying up,” she said casually, gathering discarded supplies. “How was the tour with Margaret?”

  Xavier shrugged, walked across the room, and sat on the edge of her desk. The same tenseness radiated from him now as it had earlier. “It went OK, I guess. Margaret seems fine with working here.”

  “That’s good.” Dawn dropped the dirty paintbrushes into a can she held. She hesitated. “Look, sorry if I came off as rude, but if you had told me you were getting a second art teacher, I wouldn’t have asked so many questions. I wasn’t trying to scare her off. You caught me off guard, that’s all.”

  “We’re not getting a second art teacher, Dawn.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, that’s what I came back here to talk to you about.”

  Now she really was confused. She sat down the soup can and dropped her hands to her hips. “What do you mean? Then why was Margaret here?”

  She could see his jaw clench. He evaded her gaze.

  Suddenly, the answer to her question dawned on her, or more accurately, fell on her like a ton of bricks. She gaped at him in shock. “Wait, are you . . . are you firing me?”

  Xavier glanced at the door leading to the hallway. A group of kids were lingering by the lockers, near the classroom’s entrance, and talking animatedly. He rose from the desk and quietly shut the door. He turned back toward her.

  “You are firing me, aren’t you?” she asked with disbelief, feeling a stab to the chest.

  “Dawn . . .” he began softly.

  “No, don’t . . . Don’t Dawn me! Damn it! Just spit it out! Answer the question! Are you firing me?”

  She hoped he would deny it. She hoped this was some gross misunderstanding and that he wouldn’t do something like this, especially considering that she hadn’t wanted to teach the art class to begin with but had only done it because he asked her to do it, considering how hard she had tried to be his friend. But she could tell from the expression on his face that such a hope was futile.

  “I can’t fire you,” he finally said. “You’re a volunteer. We just don’t
need you anymore.” He took a step toward her. “Look, you were only supposed to be temporary . . . an emergency fix. Remember? Margaret is willing to take over as a long-term replacement and—”

  “So this is how I find out about it? While you’re giving my long-term replacement a goddamn tour! When the hell were you planning to tell me this?”

  “I’m telling you now!” he bellowed, then closed his eyes. She could see he was trying to regain his calm. “Look, don’t act so offended. You told me yourself you don’t like to teach, and you’re a busy woman. You have your gallery work . . . your own life. I thought you’d be relieved that—”

  “Relieved? Relieved? You practically begged me to teach this damn class and now you go behind my back and do this?”

  He opened his eyes. The pale gray irises seemed to darken to a stormy shade of gray as he glared at her. “I didn’t go behind your back,” he said tightly.

  “No, Xavier, that is exactly what you did!” Another thought popped into her head, making her stop in her tracks, making her even more furious. “Wait, are you firing me because of Constance? Is that what this is about? I bet she’s not too jazzed about me working here with you! She certainly doesn’t like me! She’s made that abundantly clear!”

  “Constance has nothing to do with this.”

  But Dawn knew he was lying—again. She could see the lie written all over his face. She wondered if Constance had done it the night of his birthday party, coaxed him into getting rid of her while giving him a piece of ass. Dawn should have known if Constance had issued him an ultimatum that he would put her on the chopping block. She didn’t know why she had expected anything else from him.

  “Great! That’s just great!” She laughed coldly, shaking her head. “You’re getting rid of me because you don’t have the balls to stand up to your fiancée!”