Dancing Barefoot

by Amber Lea Easton

  She rubbed a closed fist across her forehead, closed her eyes, and tried to stuff away the tumultuous emotions reeling throughout her body.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, genuine concern lilting through his accented voice. "Do you want me to leave?"

  Damn the man for showing back up in her life. The timing couldn't be worse.

  "Why didn't you find me? Why didn't you follow me here? You said you would always come looking for me, but you didn't. Doesn't that make you the liar?" she asked, tears rushing beneath the closed eyelids. "You blame me for leaving you, for being scared, but you didn't follow me despite having my address. You let me go just like that, like I wasn't worth fighting for. You act like I'm the most vile person on earth because I freaked out—because I had to come back here." She smacked her palms against the counter and opened her eyes to stare at him. "Do you have any idea the pressure I'm under, that I've always been under? I don't know what to do or who to be or what to say or how to act; but I do know what I want. I do. And you know how I know? Because it scares the hell out of me, that's how."

  They couldn't move forward without resolving the past. Confusing or not, he'd been the one true love of her life and she needed him to know everything—even though it terrified her to leap from this ledge.

  He folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against the back of the sofa. "I thought you'd gone missing, called the police, had everyone searching for you. You didn't leave a note, nothing. Vanished. I thought something horrible had happened to you, Jess. The police notified me that you'd taken a plane back to Boston. It messed me up. I took that as a rejection. I went on a self-destructive binge. Would you have really wanted me showing up?"

  "Yes, I wanted you to show up. I fantasized about it." Trembling from her run and tumultuous emotions, she drank the rest of the water while silent tears fell.

  He frowned and looked down at his booted feet. "I never imagined you'd want me to follow you. I thought you'd changed your mind about marrying me. What was I supposed to think? You disappeared and I still do not know why."

  "It hurts to talk about why."

  He nodded. "Was it Marc? Did you come back because of him?"

  "No...I need to shower. I will tell you everything, but then it needs to be over. No talking about the past. I need to move on." She pulled off the headscarf that held her hair back, turned her back on him, and walked toward the bedroom. Uninvited, he could do as he pleased while she showered because she needed a minute to regain control.

  "If you had bothered to tell me you were leaving, I would have come with you no matter what was wrong." He followed. "But you didn't and I did some unforgiveable things. You can't imagine what I have done. It hasn't been all pretty pictures and fabulous places." He grabbed her by the elbow and swung her around. "Let's stop this. I'm here. I heard you this afternoon. I want to go out on a date with you, just us, here and now. Let's go out to dinner or for a walk. No arguing. I will charm the hell out of you."

  "Yeah, you're really charming at the moment." She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and sighed. "I'm all sweaty, I need a shower."

  "I always liked you a little messy." When he smiled, dimples dented his cheeks. "I'm in hiding, everyone from Ava to Kevin to Miranda is looking for me. I am missing an important dinner tonight, I hear, because a certain brunette asked me out. I couldn't resist an opportunity like that."

  She bit back a smile, liking the fact that he was ditching everyone to spend time with her and that he'd waited on the street for her to come home. "Okay. Give me ten minutes. There's a bar down the street, we can grab a burger and a beer."

  His smile widened. "Burgers and beer sound ideal. I can't wait for our first date."

  She watched him walk back to the living room before smelling her armpits to make sure her deodorant had done its job. Satisfied that she didn't reek too badly, she peeled off her shorts and t-shirt enroute to the bathroom where she grabbed a washcloth. Her hair had dampened with the run, curls returning despite the straightening of the morning. She brushed it until soft waves curved around her ears and skimmed her jawline. In a hurry, she pulled on the first pair of jeans she found, a hooded Boston Red Sox sweatshirt and a pair of sandals. Not exactly glamorous.

  In the living room, he sat on the window seat of the front bay window and leaned toward the side portion that had been propped open. He held a cigarette to his mouth as if savoring a long drag before noticing she'd entered the room. Looking guilty, he blew out the smoke while his gaze traveled from the frayed hem of her jeans to the hair that had a mind of its own. They made eye contact and a world of mistakes swirled between them.

  Without saying anything, he snuffed out the cigarette in her potted fern, grabbed his jacket, and followed her from the apartment. They walked together in silence, side by side.

  She stuffed her hands into the giant pocket in front of her sweatshirt to avoid brushing against him. She simultaneously felt that they'd said too much and not enough. She'd missed the smell of him that reminded her of sex, secrets, laughter, and whispers in the night.

  It wasn't until they were comfortably seated in a dark booth in a busy restaurant that she braved a look into his face. He sat across from her, eyes locked on her face, arms folded on the top of the table.

  "Sorry for being late," he said with a lopsided grin.

  "What do you mean?" Damn, the man did crazy things to her heart with a simple grin.

  "You said you'd hoped I'd come and get you. I took the long way. Detour." He smiled before looking around the bar as if equally uncomfortable in this situation. They'd done much better arguing.

  "Better late than never," she said, wishing this could be easy. "You really suck at the whole knight in shining armor thing."

  Without making eye contact, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm European, I'm supposed to be romantic by nature, isn't that right? "

  "I thought being romantic was in your DNA or something. Don't they teach Chivalry 101 in school over there?" She grinned, wanting to put him at ease. After all, she felt as if she were on some type of mission now with the full backing of Ava, Sela, and Jane.

  He laughed, the sound easy and warm. "Maybe I need to take a refresher course."

  "What do you think of Boston so far?" She blurted out the question. Why not? She'd gone insane on Friday and was on a roll of crazy.

  A myriad of emotions swirled through the depths of his green eyes as he studied her from across the table. Suddenly she wished they'd stayed back at her place, talked heart to heart in private.

  "I've thought about how it could have been," she continued with her confessions of the night. "Sometimes when I'm jogging, I'll see something that I know you'd love...be it how the sunrise reflects in the Charles River or a child flying a kite. I'll stop and think, 'I wonder how Jacques would see that through his camera lens'. Then there've been times when something ridiculous happens and I think, 'I wonder what Jacques would say about that'. When I'm with my friends, I often wonder how you'd like them, wish you'd gotten to know them, feel rotten for not giving you the chance."

  Feeling conspicuous, she broke eye contact. Well, if nothing else, she'd always be able to say she left nothing left unsaid. Words came forth with a mind of their own, revealing her heart in ways she hadn't in years—at least not verbally. In her art...well, that was another story. She felt exposed and vulnerable. Her blush started on her neck and burned itself upward.

  "Hey, Jessica," the waiter said when he tossed their menus onto the table. "Let me guess...it's a weekday which means you'll have your usual Ipswich Ale, am I right? I haven't seen your friend before, but I'd guess he's more of Sam Adams kind of man. Am I right or am I right?"

  "You're right as usual, Benny." She cleared her throat.

  "Where's your posse? You really need to get Sela to go out with me, c'mon do a guy a favor." Benny clutched both hands over his heart and gave her his best puppy dog look.

  "You'd just break her heart, I see how you operate a
round here, you lady killer you." She winked at the old man who'd been serving them all for years. Part owner, Benny McDougal, loved to flirt with all the ladies regardless of age, shape, race, or size.

  "So just the two of you?" He gave Jacques the once over before turning his attention back to her.

  "Just the two of us, no Sela tonight." She drummed her fingers against the tabletop.

  "I'll be back." Benny winked before moving back toward the bar.

  "You're a regular here? You have a posse? I thought you'd take me to some out of the way place where you'd have no fear of running into anyone you knew, but here we are with Benny. You're doing an excellent job of fucking with my mind."

  "Speaking of fucking, Friday night was pretty hot." Why start censoring myself now? "Do first dates follow up with sex or are we going to put on the brakes and go slow?"

  He arched an eyebrow, his smile widening at her boldness. "I hear you told Ava it was mind blowing. Don't you think that's a little too much information to share with my sister?"

  "I lost my mind sometime around Friday morning. Who knows what I'll say or do next?" Her heart twisted despite the laughter. She'd missed him more than she'd allowed herself to admit all of these years.

  Together they laughed, each looking surprised at the ease stirring between them. She sighed, releasing the tension of the day and the confusing thoughts that had tormented her brain for the past few hours.

  "I've missed being with you like this, just us talking," she admitted with a smile.

  "To answer your question, I like Boston." He opened the menu. "Burgers, yes?"

  Her smile slipped. He still didn't trust her and she couldn't blame him. He still believed she had simply gotten cold feet and left. "Yep. McDougal's makes the best in Boston...or at least on this block."

  "I'll have whatever you think is best then. I'm hungry, I think I forgot to eat today, except for that bite of the hotdog." Snap, snap wen the rubber band on his wrist, discreetly hidden behind his leather bracelets.

  "What's with the rubber band?" she asked.

  "Giving up smoking, like I said. According to Ava, this is supposed to help me lose the urge." He smiled and averted his gaze.

  "Weren't you just smoking at my apartment?" She leaned back in the booth, enjoying being with him again and resisting the impulse to crawl across the table to kiss him.

  "Shh...don't tell." Still smiling, he looked around the bar before sliding his gaze back to hers.

  She leaned back when Benny returned with their drinks. She ordered their dinner and ignored Benny's inquisitive look between the two of them. He'd never seen her here with anyone outside the usual group. Her grin faltered at the realization of how narrow her world had become. She'd been coming to this bar for over a decade with the same group of people, the bartender knew what she ordered on the weekdays compared to the weekends. She'd even dated within the same circle—not that she and Marc had exactly dated. Hooked-up would be more accurate. She squirmed, the trapped feeling from the other day closing in around her. She was a thirty-two year old associate partner in an architecture firm who'd had exactly one big adventure in her life and that adventure personified now sat across from her looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

  "So, Jacques, tell me about your adventures over the past few years. Who have you met, what have you seen, and what's the best place you've traveled so far?"

  He took his time drinking his beer and paying an abnormal amount of attention to placing the glass back onto the table. Eventually, he looked at her and shrugged. "Do you really want to know?"

  "Yeah, I do. I've imagined you in all sorts of places doing all kinds of things." She leaned her arms on the table and waited for him to talk. "We're on a first date and this is what people discuss on first dates. I think. If I remember correctly."

  "I'm still trying to absorb the idea that you've imagined me anywhere, Jess, you really are confusing me with all of this," he said without looking away from her eyes. "I did some things I'm not proud of, had some success despite it all, and avoided the United States all together. Truth be known, I even lost touch with Ava for over a year." He shook his head and closed his eyes again as if struck by a horrendous headache. "I never once dreamed you'd want me here, let alone that you would imagine me as a part of your life."

  "Yeah, well, I guess I should have left a note," she muttered.

  "Yes, a note would have been good." He leaned his head back against the booth and dragged both hands across his face before laughing so hard that she couldn't resist joining in.

  Laughter dissipated with the arrival of their burgers. She had no idea where to go from here...how to lead a conversation when they were going out of their way to avoid certain subjects. She ignored the vibrating cell phone in her pocket, resenting the intrusion of the outside world.

  "South Africa has been my favorite place so far. I spent almost four months there working with National Geographic," he finally said.

  "You do a lot of work with them?"

  He nodded, his gaze skimming across a stray curl that bounced in front of her eyes while she ate her burger. "Some."

  "Your trip Amazon River trip is with them, right? A documentary?"

  "That's right. Carter is heading up the team, he's anxious to see you again." He focused on his beer. "Have you thought about Miranda's offer to show your art with mine on Friday?"

  "Short notice...I wouldn't be able to be ready, to pick which ones would be suitable..." She pushed her plate away and sighed. All those thoughts from earlier had ravaged her mind.

  "Excuses, excuses..." He smiled, dimples showing to perfection.

  "I'm not an artist, I'm an architect," she said with too much emphasis on the last word.

  "Why can't you be both? What is wrong with that?" His gaze skimmed over her face, lingered on her mouth.

  "Architects are respected professionals who actually make money, artists live day to day never knowing what's going to hit or miss. I like my security. As for not being both...I've never seen that as an option," she said.

  "You're making it more complicated than necessary. Life is all about choices, Jess."

  "Choices, huh? Do you really believe that life is so cut and dried? Simple?"

  "Yes, I do." His gaze locked with hers. "If you want something bad enough, you do it, you make it happen. Simple."

  Why did that feel like a dare? She squinted at him as she finished her beer.

  "Thank you." The urge to confide in him drummed in her heart. She wasn't one to confide in even her closest of friends, though, wasn't one to lean. Meeting his gaze now, though, she felt as if he were testing her. "Friday night you asked me if it made me happy...I'm not so sure. I worked hard for this, but today I felt more like a woman suffocating than someone celebrating."

  He stared at her in silence, his face not betraying any emotion.

  Great. I said too much. What's wrong with me? She poked at her burger with a French fry.

  "What else?" He leaned his elbows on the table. "There's more you want to tell me, isn't there?"

  "My mom's a mess," she whispered. She'd never even told Sela or Jane about her problems with her mother. "I left Italy abruptly because, shortly after you'd left the apartment, Marc called. My mother had overdosed—on purpose—and was in a coma. She had also slit her wrists, I guess she wanted to make sure she died, but it didn't work. She calls it her biggest failure, tries to joke about it, but I think she's serious. Marc had arranged for a ticket at the airport so I could get back immediately. I didn't pack anything, intending to come back. I waited as long as possible that day for you to come home, but then I had to go. I never thought I'd be gone so long, it all became overwhelming. Once I was here, I realized I didn't have your phone number or email. I mean, why would I? We were together all of the time. You know the rest...But this thing with my mom...she's a mess. It's a pattern. She needs me to be there when the next guy leaves, which is what always happens."

  "You came back to be with her, to take care
of your mother, not just because of your career or Marc?" He frowned as if trying to understand what she was saying.

  "I don't really discuss this with people." She'd revealed too much, gone too far out of her comfort zone, and needed to stop.

  "I want to understand, Jess. I'm not judging you. I'm here because I—because I think—we want the same thing."

  "I went back to bring you home with me, not to run off with you." She met his gaze, certain she sounded foolish. "I swore I'd never rely on a man, that I'd always take care of myself. I don't want to be like her. She is the neediest person on the planet."

  "I think that's the most honest thing you've ever said to me." He looked awestruck. "We should have talked more in Italy or I should have listened, I don't know. "

  "We're talking now." She caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  "Now is all that matters." He exhaled slowly. "About your promotion, are we celebrating or mourning, I'm confused." He smiled then to lighten the mood. "We're covering a lot of bases for a first date. I think we're breaking the rules."

  "I am so tired of playing by the rules." She didn't want to sit here talking anymore. She wanted to take him home, lead him to her bedroom, and make love slowly all night long until her body was limp with orgasmic satisfaction. "Let's call it a celebration. Spend the night with me."

  She held her breath while he took his time contemplating the idea. Her heartbeat ricocheted inside her chest, pulsated in her throat, and echoed in her ears.

  "Jacques and Jessica together again? What would that be like?" He smiled without looking at her.

  She'd forgotten that he was a unique combination of shy and bold, depending on the situation. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, crossed her fingers beneath the table, and stared at him until he looked up and met her gaze.

  Without saying a word, he tossed money on to the table, stood, and reached his hand out to her. She linked her fingers with his and let him pull her close to his side.

  "Is this temporary in your mind or do you want to go all in?" he asked within a fraction of her lips.