by Emma Tharp
Twelve
Dean
"Tomorrow is the Fourth of July," I remind her as we climb into bed. "Do we have any special plans?" I'm surprised either of us can move. We managed to get more sun than we thought and between the light burn and loads of walking and standing, I'm exhausted. But I'm still curious what we're doing tomorrow. In an effort to never disappoint her, I want to be ready. She makes me want to be a better man.
It was so fun to see Giselle's adventurous side today at the amusement park. She was playful and carefree. She held my hand around the park, leading me from ride to ride. When she ordered cotton candy and put the first bite in her mouth, it was like I could see the younger version of Giselle. One I wish I’d known. I wonder if we had met in high school if she would’ve given me the time of day. I bet she was a bookworm who didn’t really date. Or maybe she was wild back then and got it all out of her system before college. I’m curious if we had dated when we were in our twenties if I could’ve somehow balanced her out more. She’s all work and no play. Which I can’t believe she’s going to be able to sustain long-term. Granted, I could be a little more work and less play, too. If we were together every day, I bet we would even each other out. It’d benefit both of us.
The fun we had today made it easy not to think about breakfast this morning when I mentioned that we could see each other more than once a year and she turned me down. I decide not to let that get to me because I still have the rest of the week to work on her.
"Yes, let's go to the races. I love them. The horses. The excitement." Her dark eyes sparkle as she talks about it.
"The money, the people and their stuffy outfits, the smell of horses." I shake my head. I’ve never had an interest in spending a day at the races.
"Have you ever been to a race?" Her eyes are half-lidded with fatigue, but she still manages to give me the side-eye.
"No, but if it makes you happy, we’ll go." I’ll give anything a chance for her. It’s like today when I talked her into going on the tallest, fastest roller coaster at the park. She was apprehensive at first, but she went for it. We’re good at pushing each other out of our comfort zones.
Her face is actually glowing. It completely lights up. "Good. We'll leave early. Make a day of it."
"How early should we get there?"
"Eight o'clock, maybe."
"Okay. Snuggle in. We need to rest.” I turn off the light and position myself for her to get comfortable.
Giselle rolls over and backs up against me so we’re spooning. Seconds later, her breathing evens out and I think she's asleep.
How can she do that? Pass out so quickly? I range between not being able to calm down with her near and being so relaxed I can barely wake up in the morning. This woman has me in knots. It has to be love. I doubted it before we were together this trip. But the longer we're together, the more convinced I’ve become that there's something real between us, at least for me.
I pull her in closer and she inhales deeply. I wonder if I've woken her. "What if I come visit you before ski season?” I whisper. "I can come to the city and stay with you."
Every muscle in her body stiffens. Definitely awake. "We'll see," she murmurs.
I’m not ready to give up. "Or you could come to Vermont and stay with me. For a long weekend. There must be some holiday in there that you get either a Friday or Monday off," I say quietly next to her ear.
She shivers and I wonder what it means. "We can talk about it."
"Tomorrow?" I push, because the clock is ticking. "Can we talk tomorrow?"
She rolls over and stares at me. It's dark in the room, but I feel her eyes studying my face. "Why are you bringing this up after midnight while we’re trying to sleep? We need to be up early."
I sigh because I know my timing is off. "You're right. Sorry." I kiss her forehead, knowing she's in no mood for me to press my lips to hers like I want. "We'll talk later. When you're ready." There it is. Another lie. If she had her way, we’d never discuss it. I can't wait that long.
Thirteen
Giselle
Thanks to Dean, my mind is racing and I can’t fall asleep. Something is different about the way he’s holding me and touching me; it’s tighter somehow—like he’s afraid I’m going to slip through his fingers. My stomach clenches because it feels like it's coming to an end and I'm not happy.
This was supposed to be our week, the perfect summer vacation to hold us over until the following year. And he's ruining it. I don’t understand why he can't be happy with the time we have together. He has been every other year that we’ve done this. I thought we had an understanding and now I'm questioning all of it.
I focus on keeping my breathing long and steady. If he knows I'm awake, he'll only try and initiate another conversation I'm not ready for. When he finally falls asleep, I ease out of bed and wander out to the living room. I slip on my robe and make my way to the dock. Letting my feet dangle in the water, I try to picture the future. I can’t see mine with him. I have no idea where he fits in. I mean… I don’t think he does.
It's impossible to picture him getting dressed up a few times a month in a stuffy suit and tie and sitting through dinners with my partners and their spouses. They're good people, but the youngest is twenty years older than us. The conversation is usually dry and mainly has to do with law. It’d be too much to ask of Dean. Would he be able to rise to the occasion? I simply don’t know. And now that I am a partner, there's no way I can move out of the city. And why should he leave Vermont and his home? It's all too overwhelming.
When I try to conjure a picture of his reaction when I tell him that this is all we can ever be, it isn’t good. And I pray he can hold it together a few more days, but I can sense that that isn't happening. He's too…tense. And he's persistent about an answer.
We’ve never had a fight. There hasn’t been a reason for it. And I don’t want to start now. I deal with too much confrontation in my line of work. My relationship with Dean is supposed to be easy, but I feel the claws of conflict digging their way in and it makes me sick.
Lying down on the dock, I stare up at the stars and do my best to focus on my breathing. Eventually, I allow my eyes to close. When I wake, my back is painfully stiff and I can barely move my neck, which isn’t exactly how I like to start my day. I'm going to need to schedule an appointment with my chiropractor as soon as I get back to the city.
My skin is warm from the sun beating down on me, and when I open my eyes, Dean is standing over me. He holds out a cup of coffee. "I thought you might need this." He squats down and passes it to me. There's no hiding the hurt in his beautiful eyes.
"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. Thanks for the coffee." I ease myself to a sitting position, wincing at the sting in my neck and lower back and take the mug.
"Do you want to go inside?" he asks. "You look like you could use a hot shower."
Giving him my hand, he helps me to a standing position. "That sounds like a great idea."
We walk inside together and make our way to the bathroom. Dean turns the shower on and when steam fills the room, we both get undressed and step inside.
"Let me help," Dean says and stands behind me, rubbing my lower back while the hot water streams down my body.
"Thanks. That feels nice,” I tell him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Dean is so good to me.
He's doing all the right things, but we’re quiet and there's an undeniable tension prickling around us, taking up too much space.
I know we need to talk, but I don't know what I can say that will make this right between us. I'm not sure either of us will be able to let this go. And I have a sinking feeling in my stomach because I'm not sure we're going to make it through the end of the week.
After the shower, I dry off and get dressed.
In the bedroom, Dean’s in his boxer briefs, looking gorgeous as always. “Did you still want to go to the horse races today?”
“Sure. I’d like to,” I tell him, running a brush through my hair. The
races should be fun and will give us something else to think about. We can help each other pick out the winners and when the race starts, we can cheer on our horses. We need something to raise our spirits and get us out of the funk we’re in.
"Want me to make us breakfast?" Dean asks. He looks hopeful. I can tell it sets his mind at ease when he's got something to do.
I don't have an appetite. "No, I'm okay."
He slides his legs into a pair of khakis. "How about a granola bar or something?"
Shaking my head, I walk toward the bedroom door. "I'll eat there.”
“Okay,” he says and shrugs his shoulders.
When we finish getting ready, we make our way to the car. Mercifully, the ride to the track is quick. Neither of us say anything the entire ride. It's strange since we’ve never had problems with conversation or awkward silences. Not until now.
Finding a place to park, we make our way in. It feels good to be outside in the sunshine away from the confines of the car.
"Giselle. Giselle, is that you?" a man’s voice calls out.
Turning slowly, my eyes widen when they land on a familiar face that I wasn't expecting to see here.
"Who's that?" Dean asks, and it's hard to miss the crinkle in his forehead.
I swallow hard, and realization that my two worlds are going to suddenly collide hits. "One of my partners."
Fourteen
Dean
Giselle is standing frozen in place, making no move to walk toward her coworker. But he’s coming toward us. She looks like she’d like to crawl out of her skin, or dig a hole and climb in.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
“Fine.” It’s all she gets out before her partner stands in front of us and holds out his hand for Giselle to shake.
“I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s good to see you,” the tall man with salt-and-pepper hair says. He’s dressed in khakis and a pink and white striped polo shirt with a blue suit jacket over it. A woman with big blonde hair and lots of makeup comes up next to the guy. “And who do we have here?” he asks, eyeing me.
Giselle clears her throat. “James, this is my friend, Dean. Dean, this is James, one of the founding partners at my firm.”
“Nice to meet you, James,” I say, holding out my hand.
He grips it firmly and we shake. “Good to meet you, too. I’ve never gotten the chance to meet any of Giselle’s friends.”
I smile past the sting of the term “friend” even though I’m not sure why. We don’t exactly have a title. What else would she call me? Her lover, her friend with benefits? “Is this your wife?” I ask to take the attention away from myself.
“This is Kitty.”
That’s really her name? No way. It has to be a nickname. She gives me her hand. It’s cool and limp, but I shake it anyway. “Nice to meet you, Kitty.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” Her eyes scan my body like she’s a shark and I’m a little fish she’d like to devour.
“Well, it’s settled then. You’ll join us in our box today,” James announces and begins walking toward the entrance.
I glance at Giselle and she shrugs her shoulders. We make our way inside, and she doesn’t hold my hand. She’s ashamed of me and it hurts. We hold hands everywhere we go. But I guess this is the first time that anyone from our outside lives has crossed over like this.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We could just leave if you’d like.” I lean in and whisper into Giselle’s ear.
Her posture is stiff and everything feels wrong. It’s like getting a glimpse of her life back in New York City. “No. It’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t have a choice. It’s not like I can blow off one of the senior partners.”
Alrighty then.
The place is dotted with what seems like thousands of people. Men, women, and children are all dressed up in what my mom would call their Sunday best, including the ladies in big hats. We walk by vendors selling paintings and horse memorabilia.
Before I know it, we’re sitting in a fancy box with the owner of Giselle’s firm. The mimosas are flowing along with the cash. They’re placing some serious bets. I was going to randomly put twenty bucks on a horse with a cool name, but not now. I’ll keep my measly money in my pocket.
James introduces me to his friends—they all seem to be attorneys or their spouses. They’re all cordial, but after the initial introduction, they lose interest since we don’t seem to have much in common, and go off into their tight group.
“Who should I pick?” Giselle comes up to me, showing me a card.
I slip my arm around her waist and stare at the names. “I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about these horses.”
“I don’t really either.” She looks up at me and smirks. “Eeny, meenie, miny, mo?” She closes her eyes and points at the card.
“No, Giselle. Come here, I’ll help you,” James calls over his shoulder.
She presses her lips together into a thin line before she walks toward him. “I’ll be right back.”
“They’ll just talk shop,” Kitty announces, swirling her glass of champagne.
I nod in agreement. That’s all they’ve done so far. “How long have you two been married?”
She shakes her head. “I’m just a girlfriend. He won’t marry me. Too much risk.” She winks. “Divorce lawyers make a lot of money and learn a lot of lessons along the way. Mostly…not to get married.”
Glancing over at Giselle to see if she’s paying attention, I want to know if she’s been listening in—and does she feel the same as her partner. Her body language usually gives everything away. In this case, her shoulders sag and I know she agrees. “Huh. I don’t know. I rather like the idea of marriage, with the right woman.” I shrug. Giselle has her back to me and doesn’t turn around, but I know she heard me.
A race begins, and everyone’s attention is drawn to the row of horses that seem to jump out of the starting gates. Their hooves dig into the ground, kicking up dust in their wake. A chestnut horse takes the early lead. Even though I didn’t place a bet, adrenaline shoots through me as I watch with the rest of the cheering fans. The jockeys are standing in the stirrups, parallel to the ground, looking as if one wrong move would send them flying through the air. Around the last turn, a black horse takes over the front spot and people all around me clap and cheer, but not Giselle.
I stand next to Giselle and lean in. “You didn’t win?”
Her brow furrows and she shakes her head. “Nope. Not this one. Guess today’s not my lucky day.”
It’s hard not to miss the irony. It doesn’t feel like my lucky day either. “Is this an all-day thing?” I ask. I’m hot, even without a jacket on like some of the other men.
She smiles weakly. “We don’t have to stay.”
She says it, yet she’s seemed the most comfortable she’s been all day while talking to her partner. He’s her type. And he’s not married. They work in the same office. I have to wonder if there had ever been anything between them—even though he’s older than she is.
Just then, James calls Giselle over to where he’s standing. Again. I wish she’d stay next to me for a few more minutes. I’m not normally an insecure man, but right now, I’ve never felt more out of place.
“I’m sorry,” she says before she turns away from me.
I blow out a frustrated breath and my blood pressure starts to rise.
“They’ve never dated, to my knowledge,” Kitty murmurs in my ear.
I take a drink. “The thought never occurred to me.”
She tips her head back and laughs. “Liar.”
I smirk at being called out. That wasn’t nice. I’m not in the mood.
Picking up a quarter of a sandwich off a tray, I eat it all in one bite. I’ve never tasted anything like it, deciding it isn’t bad. Mimosas aren’t my favorite, but I tip one back anyway. If you can’t beat them, join them.
Another race soon begins. I stand to get a better view. Everyone cheers, jumping up and down as the hor
ses round the corner toward the finish line. Two horses are close, both jockeying for first, but in the final second, a large dark brown horse wins by an inch.
“I won!” Giselle jumps up and down and James grabs her in a bear hug.
“Me, too. Let’s all go out for dinner. My treat,” James says, his voice full of triumph.
Giselle smiles. “Sounds good—as long as Dean is okay with it,” she adds, tilting her head to the side.
What am I going to do? I can’t very well be the one to stick a fork in her lovely day. I plaster a fake grin on my face. Damn, I’m getting really good at that. “Sounds great,” I lie. All I want to do is go back to the lake house, to be alone with her and find some way to bridge the growing distance between us.
Spending more time with James and Kitty isn’t going to do it.
Fifteen
Giselle
"What did you want me to say?" I snap as soon as Dean tells me he doesn't want to eat dinner with them. It sounds harsh, even to my own ears and I hate myself for it, but I've been so flustered from the moment I saw James this morning.
When I heard my partner at the firm’s voice, I instantly knew it wasn’t good. How exactly was I going to explain to anyone outside my inner circle who Dean is? I can’t tell them that Dean is my lover—that wouldn’t be appropriate. And he’s not my boyfriend. And friend doesn’t seem sufficient either. But there wasn’t any time to think, so that’s how I introduced him. And I didn’t miss the sour expression on Dean’s face when I said the word. The day got worse from there. Dean didn’t make an effort to socialize with James and I felt it necessary to mingle with James and his other lawyer friends—it would look bad if I didn’t. It was blatantly obvious that Kitty was flirting with Dean all day, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.
