Wine&Dine: another romance for the over 40

by L. B. Dunbar

  “No, she’s some woman who was staying in his building. He set her up in Denton’s apartment. Funny that woman has the same last name,” a second woman states. Same last name as Denton? We’re siblings, you idiot, I want to interject.

  “I didn’t think Denton had any family,” the first adds sadly, and I imagine her pouty little lips like she feels sorry for my younger brother. The famous musician certainly didn’t mention his family in interviews, and now I understand. “The last time I was at Garrett’s, he told me Denton had gone home because his mother died.”

  My breath catches, processing the timing of such a statement.

  “She’s a special project for him,” the second speaks again. “He’s always been like that.”

  “That’s not true, honey,” the first pipes in. “I wasn’t a project of his.”

  They both giggle. “No, he’s been a project of yours.”

  My brow pinches, and I stare at myself in the mirror. A young blonde woman looks at her reflection and applies a new layer of lipstick to lips which don’t need more. She smiles softly at me through the glass as the women continue.

  “Well, I’m sure once whoever she is is gone, he’ll come back to me. He always does. He never holds on to them for very long. You know how he is. Let’s get a drink.”

  Silence falls after this statement, and I meet the eyes of the woman three sinks down again. We both hear the roar of the party as if a door opens and then the silencing of the noise after the door closes.

  “That’s Alicia Graystone. I’m told she’s wanted to hook her claws into Garrett for years. She’s jaded and bitter because he’s ‘friend-zoned’ her.” The woman air quotes into the reflection. “The other woman is Hunny Cumerford. They think they know everyone, but they don’t. And they’re both social climbers.”

  She slips her lipstick back in her clutch and comes closer to me.

  “Denton Chance. Are you really his sister?”

  “I am.” My brows pinch surprised she’s making a connection.

  “I’m Ivy Everly. Denton played in the band with my mother, Kit Carrigan.” She cocks her hip and eyes me a moment. “They were cousins, which means…”

  “Oh my God.” I stare at the young woman before me. My best guess is she’s under thirty, and the resemblance becomes clear. “I’m your cousin. Second cousins as you’re my cousin’s daughter.”

  The thin woman steps forward and reaches out to hug me. I’m not a random hugger, so the connection throws me off, but after hearing those women speak about me, her comfort and the sense she’s family make me feel better. Tears well in my eyes for some reason.

  “Is Tommy here?” Tommy and I spoke at my mother’s funeral, catching up on old times, and seeing him tonight might settle my nerves even more. A familiar face would be nice in this crowd. My heart pumps with the possibility as I pull back, keeping my hands on her shoulders. I can’t seem to let her go now that she’s hugged me. She’s so beautiful and holding her seems to ground me at the moment.

  “He’s not. But he’ll be tickled I met you. How long have you been in town? Have you seen him since you’ve been in California? We need to have you come to dinner.”

  “I’ve actually been here a few weeks, but I need to get back home before Christmas.” It’s the first time I’ve said such a thing, and I realize in saying it that it’s true. I need to go home by the holiday. Guilt riddles me that I hadn’t called my cousin in these two months. We weren’t particularly close as adults, but he’s still family. “I’m sorry I haven’t called him.” My voice lowers. Ivy’s cool hands have remained on my lace-covered arms, keeping us tethered together.

  “No worries, but maybe before you go home,” she suggests. “I’d love to get to know more about you.” The words are spoken genuinely, and I smile despite how my insides feel. “May I introduce you to my husband?”

  I nod and follow Ivy’s lead out of the bathroom.

  25

  Dance with me

  [Garrett]

  Dolores has been in the bathroom a considerable time, and I’m beginning to grow concerned. I’m about to go in search of her when she finally re-enters the ballroom. I’m once again astounded by how gorgeous she looks in that dress, and my breath catches as I remember what I did to her when she first wore it. She’s so wound up tonight I can’t wait to strip her out of it and remove what weighs on her.

  Not to mention, you have something important to say to her.

  She’s with a younger woman, and the two talk animatedly as if old friends. Instead of coming for me, I see the woman direct her to a man with chin-length hair and thick scruff on his face. The man hugs Dolores easily, and my blood boils. Excusing myself, I step away from a dull conversation about birds and head in the direction of Dolores. As I approach, she looks at me, her face blooming. I can’t help but smile back at her, and our eyes hold.

  The young man’s head turns in my direction as well, and I need a second as he looks familiar, but I can’t place him.

  “Garrett,” Dolores addresses me, leaning forward for my hand. “This is Ivy Everly. She’s the daughter of my cousin, and her husband, Gage.”

  Gage Everly. As in Gage Everly of Collision?

  “Hey man, it’s nice to meet you,” I say, offering a hand. He shakes mine firmly, and I reach for his wife’s.

  “You smile just like Dolores.” Their mouths match, and Dolores smiles broader. I’ve never seen her beam so much. Her hand rubs up the back of the girl with familiarity.

  “I didn’t know you had other family here,” I mention.

  “Neither did I,” Dolores replies just as surprised. She quickly explains the connection with Denton, whom I knew had been part of Chrome Teardrops, and their cousins, Lawson Colt, aka Tommy, and his sister, Kit Carrigan. “It’s a bit surreal, and I’m sorry again that I haven’t reached out.”

  “That’s okay,” Ivy says. “I’m sorry again about your mother. I understand.” A knowing look passes between the two women. “But before you go, you promise, right? Dinner.”

  “Go where?” I ask, my third drink suddenly not settling well in my stomach.

  “Dolores said she’s going home for Christmas, but we still have a few weeks.”

  Dolores licks her lips as Ivy explains. A few weeks.

  “Well, that sounds like a good plan. Getting together before you go.” My eyes bore into Dolores, and her cheery expression fades. Gage’s head volleys between me and Dolores, and he reaches between us for his wife.

  “We should keep making the rounds so we can get out of here,” he says to Ivy, clearly interpreting the sudden awkward tension between Dolores and me. She’s wringing her fingers as she looks up at Ivy.

  “It was so good to see you,” Dolores says, and Ivy steps into her for a hug. When the younger woman pulls back, her hands grip Dolores’s upper arms.

  “Try the cupcakes. The owner is a good family friend of ours. And fuck those women in the bathroom. Don’t listen to them.” She giggles when Gage’s mouth falls open, and then she follows her husband’s lead to circle the room. I want to get out of here as well, but I promised Ingrid I’d dance one dance with her before whisking Dolores up to a room. She doesn’t know I booked us one. I wanted to make the night enchanting for her, but all of a sudden, I’m questioning everything.

  “You’re leaving,” I say, stepping up to her.

  “I haven’t decided. It just came out, but I think I should probably go home in time for Christmas, and you should too. You missed Thanksgiving because of me.”

  “You don’t want to spend Christmas with me?” I’m shocked I’m questioning her, and even more shocked that I want to spend another holiday with her. I haven’t made any plans to head home although my mother won’t appreciate another bailed holiday.

  “It’s not that…” Her voice drifts.

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “I don’t belong here, Garrett. It’s like I’m playing dress up or make-believe. This isn’t me.” She tugs at the sk
irt of her dress, almost revealing both her legs. One is already on display, and I had a hand on it under the table all evening, imagining what I could do to her. I’ve been hard since the moment I saw her in the dress again, and touching her warm skin had me on fire throughout dinner. I want to get us out of here and up to our room.

  “You look beautiful. The dress suits you.”

  “Garrett, you’re not listening. It isn’t the dress. It’s me. Those women think I’m some special project of yours.”

  “What women?”

  “The ones in the bathroom. Alicia something and someone named Hunny.” She chokes on the second name as if it must be a joke. It is a joke. Both women are.

  “They’re nobodies.”

  “Well, they seemed pretty familiar with your body, especially Alicia. She says she can’t wait until I leave so you’ll go back to her.”

  “What? I would never…” But I stop abruptly. I’ve already cut Alicia off, but that doesn’t stop the stalking. An occasional text. A suggestive message.

  “I see,” Dolores mutters.

  “No, you don’t. I’m not here with Alicia. I’m here with you. You heard Ingrid. I never bring dates to these things.”

  Dolores eyes me a moment. “You don’t bring one so you can go home with someone random.”

  The statement stings although she isn’t wrong.

  “I thought we weren’t going to do this. Bring up past mistakes like Alicia.” It isn’t true, actually. We haven’t discussed what we would or wouldn’t reveal to each other. Most things have just come naturally between us. I told her about Kate. She told me about Rusty. That’s all we need to know. Neither of us is attached to another, but then again, we haven’t confirmed we’re attached to each other. I didn’t think we needed to define things. We’re nearly living together, spending every day and night with one another.

  “Listen. Alicia is…”

  Suddenly, music flares to life, and the lights of the ballroom dim. A microphone squeaks, and Ingrid chuckles over the loudspeaker.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy this evening’s entertainment. And Garrett Fox, you owe me a dance.” Being called out at this most inopportune moment doesn’t make me happy. Dolores smiles weakly as her eyes flit over my shoulder. Before seeing her, I sense Ingrid on the path for me.

  “One dance, and then we are out of here,” I warn Dolores. She nods as Ingrid approaches, and I put on my best face to greet the matron of this fundraiser. Escorting her to the dance floor, we begin to move, but I keep my eyes trained on Dolores with every turn.

  “She’s very beautiful although not who I would expect you to date.”

  “Ingrid.” I chuckle cautiously. “You shouldn’t pretend to know my type.”

  “I was your type once,” she mutters, reminding me of another night of poor judgment. Ingrid is roughly the same age as Dolores and a beautiful woman in her own right, although she’s had some work done since our night together. It’s wrong of me to be dancing with her, but I’m putting on a social face for the charity.

  “Well, she is my type,” I say in defense of Dolores. “She’s everything I’ve ever needed.” It’s all true. She’s funny, a bit awkward, sexy as hell, and smart. Ingrid’s brow lifts, surprise on her sculptured face.

  “She’s a lucky woman.”

  “No, I’m a lucky man.”

  The tempo changes, and a sultry song begins. Ingrid steps back from me, and I bow as if I’m grateful for the dance. The music drifts, sounding like a modern tango. I decide I’d like one dance with Dolores before we head upstairs, and I’m crossing the dance floor, on a mission for her, when Alicia intercedes me.

  “Garrett, I’ve been looking for you all night.”

  “Really?” I snap. “Stalking much.”

  Alicia smirks, pressing at my chest. She dips her head and smiles upward like she’s flirting with me, but her eyes say she’s a cat ready to pounce, claws only hidden within her paws. We stand on the edge of the dance floor but still within the realm of the overhead spotlight. I don’t wish to make a scene, but I’m about to cause one if she doesn’t move out of my way.

  “Let’s dance,” she mutters, pressing me backward, under the stream of brighter lights, and I know I’m fucked.

  26

  Cinderella and the fall

  [Dolores]

  My mouth falls open as I watch Garrett take a step backward, returning to the dance floor. I’ve held my breath the entire time he danced with Ingrid. They’d make a striking couple as she holds herself like a queen. She’s old money from New York, Garrett explained, and it’s a concept I can’t wrap my head around.

  But this…this betrayal of him dancing with a second woman. I need some air.

  I turn and nearly smack into Ingrid.

  “I always thought they’d make a beautiful couple,” she says, positioning herself to face the dance floor, watching Garrett. A false smile graces her smooth cheeks. Her eyes are too tight for someone close to my age. “Then again, I thought he and I would do the same. But I was wrong.” She slightly turns, her eyes drifting over me. “The way he’s been looking at you. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

  I look up to see Garrett looking in the general direction of where we stand, but we are shadowed by the dimness, all lighting focused on the dance floor. I don’t know how to respond to Ingrid, and suddenly, I feel myself slipping into Rusty-mode, accepting that my man might be sleeping with others and not doing a damn thing about it. I confronted Rusty a few times at the beginning of our loosely termed relationship, but over time, I fell into a rut of keeping my emotions in check if I wanted to sleep with him. I hate myself for the thought.

  I should storm the dance floor and make a claim on Garrett, but I won’t. I don’t know that I have a claim on him.

  “Who is she?”

  “Alicia Graystone. They’ve been friends for years.”

  I know the code for friends—friends with benefits. She’s probably been his plus-one to events, although Ingrid mentioned Garrett hasn’t brought someone to this gala in the past. As I watch them dance, I see the familiarity they have with one another’s body. The grace as they spin in unison, and my breath hitches. The dance lessons I took with Garrett flash before my eyes. Garrett was so practiced in his moves, and now I see why. He’s done it before.

  She’s a project to him.

  Oh my God, my brain screams.

  “Ingrid, will you excuse me?”

  Her pinched eyes narrow as she nods, and I walk in the direction of the restroom, but once I enter the hallway, I know there’s no turning back.

  My fingers fumble in my clutch, trembling as I reach for my phone. I press the Uber app Garrett helped me install and type in my request. I almost fall down the stairs in my four-inch heels with a thin strap at the ankle. I hold my phone while I descend, and it rings in my palm. Thinking it’s Uber, I answer out of breath.

  “Hello?”

  “Dolores?”

  “Mati?” I haven’t spoken to Mati in almost two months, and the twang of her Georgia accent brings tears to my eyes. “What’s wrong?” She never calls me, and especially knowing I’m not in Georgia, something bad had to have happened to warrant a call.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

  “I’m fine.” The familiar phrase tastes bitter on my tongue.

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “Mati,” I huff. “What did you call for? Did something happen to Magnolia? What about Denton?” My chest pinches as I haven’t been faithful about calling my grandmother. Denton and I did a brief Monday call check-in, and he assured me earlier this week that she was hanging in there despite my mother’s death.

  “Everything’s fine. I just…Dolores, when will you be coming home?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Mati, if something happened, you have to tell me. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “No, no. Don’t rush. It’s just…I probably shouldn’t be making this call, but I think yo
u should come home.”

  I pause as I step out into the cold California evening. I don’t even know how to properly identify an Uber, and with my luck, I’ll get into the wrong car, be kidnapped, and dumped on the side of the road. My mind races as my nerves ping-pong from this call. Something is not settling well in my stomach. If Mati says it isn’t Magnolia or Denton, what could it be?

  “Is it Hollilyn? Did she burn down the diner?” I laugh without humor until I don’t hear any response. “Mati, what is it you aren’t saying?”

  “I don’t want to upset Denton, but I just thought, woman to woman, you might want to know…you should probably be here, and soon.”

  “It’s the diner, isn’t it?” Mati doesn’t say anything, and I have my answer.

  “Did it burn to the ground?” My blood freezes in the cool California night as a car slows at the curb, and I read the plates. This is my ride.

  “Nothing that extreme,” she mutters unconvincingly. “Don’t be mad, okay? He had good intentions. I just…I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Mati, this is killing me.” I fall into the back seat of the sedan. I don’t need to speak to the driver as he already has my destination.

  “Don’t worry. Please. I don’t want you to cut your time short if you aren’t ready to come back. I understand. I do.” And I know she does. When Mati lost her husband Chris, she folded into herself for a while.

  “Hang on,” I say to Mati and then address the driver. “Can I change my destination to the airport?”

  The Uber driver lifts a brow in the mirror and smiles. More money for him, I think. He tells me to cancel my ride and reschedule the airport. He’ll claim the job.

  “Mati, I’m heading to the airport now.”

  “Are you sure?” But she exhales a sigh of relief.

  “I think it’s time I come home.” After this evening, there’s no place I’d rather be.