Confusion riddled her face. “Yelena?”
His sigh was ragged, his face littered with disgust. “Yes, Yelena. The plan was never to tell you the way you found out— not on TV. Yelena …” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “She found me in a compromising position, Melina, if you know what I mean. I was cornered, and she epitomizes the word ‘greed.’ She threatened to tell the world if I didn’t marry her and, naturally, provide her with the kind of prestige that would include being my wife. Oh, she had it all figured out. I could have as many affairs as I wanted, as long as she could have all the houses and cars, pool boys named Rico, and whatever else she wanted.”
“But you were kissing her in that picture, Stan. I saw it with my own two eyes. You know, when the reporter shoved it in my face while I was trying to get into my locked studio?” Remembering that moment in time again didn’t make her want to huddle in the corner of the room anymore— it made her angry. It made her want to sucker punch him. Which could still happen …
Stan reached for her hand, taking it whether she liked it or not.
He held it to his heart. “I was sick over that, Melina. When we were in Wisconsin for the auditions for the show, Yelena took matters into her own hands because things weren’t moving quickly enough for her cold, calculating heart. I’d promised to tell you I wanted a divorce, but it wasn’t enough for Yelena. She hired this supposed fan of the show to follow us, knowing he’d make a great deal of money if he sold the picture, and then it all went to hell. She kissed me, Melina. I can assure you, I would never kiss her.” He shuddered with obvious distaste, his elegant features distorting.
Relief flooded her veins— so much so, she had to cling to his hand to stay upright. “So you were willing to tell the world you were leaving me to marry Yelena in order to keep your homosexuality hidden, not to mention, keep her in the style she seems to think she deserves, which, PS was gonna cost a whole lot more than I ever did, yet, you couldn’t tell me? Your wife?”
He pulled her hand to his cheek, his eyes glistening. “I have no excuses for what I did, Melina. You were the lesser of two evils. The only defense I have is that your emotions were involved, and Yelena just wanted the money and the prestige. That I could deal with. Hurting you by telling you I was gay and telling you you’d been loyal to a man who’d let you waste your life, your youth, with him seemed far worse than confessing to you I was leaving you for another woman. I toyed with telling you once or twice over the years, but I just couldn’t.”
Anguish rushed through her, rooting her to the spot. “But to live a lie …”
Stan’s face grew bitter, his jaw tense. “I’ve lived with it far longer than you. I lived with the shame, the stigma our world seems to per-petuate. There were times when I hated myself, and when I refused to see you after the divorce, I was simply being the coward I’ve always been. I knew the divorce had gone through, but I didn’t know everything had been taken from you. Especially the studio. Jesus, I’m sorry about the studio. I would have never done that, Melina. I know I was cross and impatient with you about its upkeep, but as I grew older, my secret was eating me from the inside out. I was unjustifiably angry with you, and I had no right to be. I lashed out in my resentment for a predicament I created, and for that, I’m sick with grief.”
Mel watched myriad emotions play on Stan’s face. Fear, sadness, but most importantly, deep regret. “Then why did we have to go so far wrong, Stan, to make this right? Where have you been all this time?”
“I was in Europe with that man-eater, mostly hiding out— out of touch with almost everyone and everything, and you know what it’s like with me and anything that has to do with my accountants and lawyers. Jerry handled everything. I’d forgotten all about the prenup-tial, which, if you recall, I didn’t want you to sign in the first place.”
Mel nodded her affirmation with a slow bob of her head. “Oh, I remember. Jerry wanted me to sign it, and to prove I didn’t want your money, I did. Wow— stupid that, huh?”
Stan cracked a wry smile, the lines of worry on his face deepening “Ah, no, stupid me, Melina. All the while I let Jerry handle everything, he was stealing from me. He was who had your money. Money I’d expressly directed him to write you a check for from my personal account.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What? Jerry was stealing from you? How did you find out?”
“I’d been suspicious of Jerry on and off over the last five years, but it was my divorce lawyers who found the discrepancy.” He shook his head in apparent regret. “I don’t know the exact details of the numbers. You know I’m not good with them. However, they alerted me about three months ago when some papers had to be filed for one reason or another, and I confronted Jerry.” Stan’s lips thinned with the memory.
“Do you think Jerry needs to share my cardboard box with me?” she joked.
Stan’s head fell back in laughter filled with relief. “Jerry will never work again, if I have a hand in it. He threatened to tell everyone about my secret if I didn’t keep my mouth closed. It was the catalyst for my interview with Nora Phillips. I’d reached my limit in my gay closet.”
“So Jerry knew, too?” God. What an idiot she must look like.
Remorse filled his features once more. “He did, Melina. I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Mel smiled up at him, wanting to forgive. “I always thought Jerry was a worm.”
“I didn’t know, Melina. I swear I had no idea he was siphoning money from me, and I had no idea you were left with nothing until this mess with Jerry happened. I signed the divorce papers he faxed to me, and that was that.”
But that he’d left her with such disregard for her wellbeing still stung. “Did it ever occur to you to check on me— even once, Stan? If for nothing more than the years we shared together?”
“Ah, Melina. I’m a selfish, selfish man. You’ve always known that about me. I was so wrapped up in my misery, so disgusted with myself that I’d ever agreed to Yelena’s blackmail, I couldn’t face you. I was so wrong to assume Jerry would take care of you like he promised. When he threatened to expose me if I went public with his embezzlement, something inside me snapped, and for the first time in my life, I felt free. So instead, I went public.”
“That explains the ten-million-dollar check.”
He winked, popping his lips. “Before you accuse me of it, yes, it was guilt money. The guilt I felt when I found out how Jerry had locked you out of the studio, despite the fact that I never liked it to begin with, then took the house and everything else we owned. I was sick with guilt.”
“You know, I didn’t think I could cash that check, but I changed my mind.”
He took her by the shoulders and gave her a light shake. “As well you should. You earned it, Melina. For the years I stole. For the beauty I took from the world when I married you and hid you away instead of letting you be the star I knew you could be. For all the good years you gave me that I just couldn’t give back. You’ll take it, and you’ll like it.”
Mel’s throat tightened again, for what Stan’s destructive lies had done to both of their lives. “Did you ever love me, Stan? Or was I always just a cover for your homosexuality?”
He surprised her when he asked, “Did you ever love me, Melina?”
She paused, sucking in a breath. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. You know, while I was broke and living at my father’s?” she taunted. Though, she meant it to tease rather than scorn now.
Stan made an invisible dagger and pretended to plunge it into his heart with his artful flair for drama. “I’m sorry, Melina. So, so sorry. But you haven’t answered the question.”
She reached a hand up and cupped his weathered cheek, searching his eyes. “In the beginning, I loved you like a teenager loves her idol. Toward the middle, I wanted to love you. I tried to love you. I reassured myself often that if nothing else, we shared a mutual love of dance, and if our relationship wasn’t passionate and all the things I’d heard it should be, then at
least we had that.”
“Unlike your stupidhead of a boyfriend who doesn’t dance, yes? Drew, is it? He loves you the way a man should love a woman, I hear.”
Stan winked suggestively and smiled.
Hearing his name out loud made her heart thump in longing.
“How do you know about Drew?”
He shot her a smile. The one he used when he was pleased by a dancer’s routine on the show. “Your father told me all about your boyfriend troubles, but only after he threatened my life.”
Mel laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness and a yearning so sharp, she ached to the tips of her fingers. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. Anyway, in the end, when our marriage was over, I was so hurt by what happened with Yelena, I didn’t realize that I’d fallen out of love with you long ago.”
Stan gathered her in his arms, placing the top of her head under his chin. His familiar scent, the way he rocked to and fro, soothed her as tears stung her eyes. “I loved you, Melina Cherkasov. I loved the way you danced; the fire in your eyes when you took a stage was like no other. Your presence stole my breath. I loved many things about you. The difference is, now I love myself enough to know I’m not in love with you.”
But there was something else. “What about Neil? He told me about what happened before our wedding. He also confessed to having a crush on you much like me. You hurt him, too …”
Stan stroked the top of her head. “I didn’t know he felt that way. I thought … For me it was just—”
“A one-night stand,” she finished for him. She’d suspected as much. She suspected there had been many one-night stands for her ex-husband during the course of their marriage. She just couldn’t allow herself to ponder them for long.
Stan’s long sigh made his chest expand against hers. “I’ve done some horrible things to protect my secrets, haven’t I?”
“And in turn put Neil in the position of risking our friendship all these years.”
“Each time you saw him over the years, I worried he’d tell you, and there were times I wished he had.”
“Because it was easier than telling me yourself.” Mel sighed. “You do know how cowardly that was. To leave Neil with your secrets?”
Stan sighed again, too. “You can’t call me anything I haven’t called myself, Melina. I know what I did, and this is me owning it. All of it. But I took advantage of Neil’s youth by putting him in that position, and as impulsive and reckless as it was, it was far more my fault than his. I hope you’ll see he was as starry-eyed as you and consider forgiving him? If you can forgive me, surely, you can forgive him?”
Mel tweaked the fabric of his jacket. “No one said I’ve forgiven you, not totally. But I want to— because holding onto the bitterness is exhausting. Give me some time on that, okay?”
Stan’s nod was of understanding. “But Neil?”
Sadness deep in her soul swept over her. For the losses Neil had suffered, too. “Of course I’ll forgive him. It’s just going to take time. Neil and I were best friends, and by being my best friend, he could have prevented the worst mistake of my life— marrying you.”
“ Ouch— that hurts.” Stan rubbed his chest.
Mel chuckled against his tweed jacket. “It’s just the truth. I’m not going to candy coat this and say you didn’t do something you most definitely did do, Stan. I’ve learned a thing or two since we got divorced, and one of them is to be truthful with yourself and keep everything real. You lied for a long time— that sucks. But there were good things, too. Things that I’ll always appreciate.”
The rumble of his ironic laughter settled in her ear. “Jesus, Melina. You’re a better person than I am.”
Mel snorted. “ Nah— wait until you get home and read my e-mail.”
“I deserve whatever you said in that e-mail.”
“Yep. You sure did. Be warned the e-mail that has the subject header, ‘You Scum-Sucking Pig’ in your inbox.”
He set her from him, smiling at her like he had so long ago. Gone was the angry scowl he’d greeted her with over the last years of their marriage. “Do you think we’ll be friends, Melina? Maybe in the future?”
“Can a girl ever really have enough gay friends,” she teased, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and your constant nagging about my ass, I wouldn’t look like this, now would I?”
His head shook back and forth. “I was just acting out because I was angry, Melina. Your ass was fine.”
“No. It was out of shape and tired. It might not be a hundred pounds anymore, but it’s in shape, and best of all, it’s healthy.”
“So what will you do about your Drew? You love him. I can see this on your face.”
Mel shrugged, hoping to keep indifference in her tone, but her throat clogged with tears once more. “There’s nothing to do. He wasn’t the man I thought he was. I had an opportunity to do something I love, and it’s a love he just won’t or can’t understand. He thought I was in it solely for the money.”
Stan wagged a long, graceful finger of admonishment at her. “But you didn’t really want to do the show, Melina. I know. My contacts told me you turned them down because you wanted to ‘go home to your kids’ was the quote, I believe.”
Her sigh was wistful, her heart tight. “I was a little in love with the idea, flattered, too. But here’s the catch. Drew had to let me go because he wanted to see me happy and trusted that I’d find a way to work it out with him if I did do Celebrity Ballroom. But he didn’t, Stan. Drew may not necessarily understand my passions. He doesn’t even have to relate to them. I definitely don’t get his love of some piece of wood, but I respect what he makes from it. What he does have to do is let me have the freedom to do them because they’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take them from me again. I want the freedom to make whatever choices I want and have him trust I would never do something to hurt him or Nate.”
Stan cupped her chin, running his thumb over her bottom lip.
“You’ve learned much since our divorce, eh, my little borscht?”
Mel smiled at the use of his old endearment. “You know what I learned, Stan? How to buy chocolate frosting in bulk at discount prices.”
Stan barked a laugh. “I’m proud of you, Melina, and this Drew? He’s an idiot to let you go. That’s all I’ll say on the matter. Now,” he pointed to her laptop on the bed, “I hear a house on me is in your near future. What do you say to allowing me to help you look? I have immaculate taste.”
Stan plopped on her bed, dragging the laptop over his knees, his body relaxed, and Mel grinned at him amidst the pink pillows her father had bought her to make the room feel more like hers.
An invisible burden she hadn’t realized existed fell off her shoulders then. The weight of Stan’s betrayal eased like a piece of dead-wood dislodging from some invisible place inside her. The anguish of her lost youth let go with a gentle release.
Peace settled inside her.
And it was good.
“Your father, he’s a clod, no?”
Nate laughed at the man who watched while his dad attempted to follow the steps his Aunt Myriam showed him, but he kept tripping over his big feet.
Nate kicked at the sawdust in the basement of his grandparents’ house, making designs in it with his sneakers. “Yeah. It’s like his feet refuse to do what his brain tells them to. He just keeps fumbling around with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth like some dork.”
The man stuck his hands inside the pockets of his trousers and nodded. “This is because he doesn’t feel the music.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what Ms. Cherkasov says, too.”
“You’re this Nate she tells me about? The one who holds such promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t really love to dance, do you?”
Nate let his eyes drift from the man’s to the floor in shame. “No, sir. I don’t like it at all.”
“Aha. But your intentions when you li
ed, they were good, weren’t they? I know this after speaking at length with your lovely grandmother tonight.”
Nate clucked his tongue, jamming his fists into the pockets of his jeans. “Oh, totally, but if you don’t mind me saying, everything’s gone to hell in a hand basket now. I blew it.”
“Blowing it has degrees of severity.”
“Tell that to my dad.”
“Yes. He behaved quite irrationally.”
“Yep. That’s why we’re here. But I think we can forget it. He sucks.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yep.” Nate behaved as though he wasn’t impressed, but if Aunt Myriam saw this dude, she’d flat-out faint.
Placing a hand on Nate’s shoulder, he asked, “Do you think I might offer to help so we can win your father the woman of his dreams? I owe that to her, you know.”
“That would be bigger than any words I got,” Nate said, fighting the urge to high-five the guy and come off like some lame fan.
“Then shall we?” He swept his arm in the direction of the middle of the basement floor.
Just then, his Aunt Myriam spun around on what was supposed to be a 3/ 8 turn.
And fell with a screech.
Into a real-live faint, all limp limbs and pale face to go with it.
Which Nate was relieved to find was okay to think was cool because his dad did catch her.
No harm. No foul.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dear Divorce Journal,
Have you heard the saying, “What a difference a day makes”? Do you suppose I could have at least that much notice before you tip my world upside down? Clearly, someone in your office missed my memo on the appropriate amount of time required to give me a heads-up, and quite frankly, I’m not as young as I used to be.
“Mel!” Frankie yelled from the corner of the diner, waving her over to their table where her pity party awaited.
She dragged her feet toward Max, Jasmine, and Frankie with a heavy thud and dropped her purse on the table with a dejected thump.
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