Knitting a Broken Heart Back Together

by Ari McKay

  “If you need to talk, I always have a listening ear.” Jason was curious, but he kept any hint of it from showing on his face. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”

  Tomy hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Well, if you’re sure you want to hear about all my wallowing….”

  “Only if you want to talk about it,” Jason said. “But if you do, of course I want to hear about how you’re dealing with things. I like you, Tomy. You’re a wonderful man who’s gone through a lot of crap you didn’t deserve.”

  “Thanks.” Tomy gave him a grateful smile. “I guess the biggest improvement is that most of the anger is gone. I still get pissed off occasionally, but it’s not right there under the surface all the time like it used to be. I don’t need constant external distraction anymore, and I can be alone in my own head without hopping on a hamster wheel of ‘what did I do wrong?’.” He paused, then added softly, “I’m still second-guessing myself, though. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall in love with him.”

  Jason shook his head. Tomy was beating up on the wrong person. “No. You weren’t the stupid one—he was. He had the love of a gorgeous, talented, special man, and he threw it away. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Tomy.”

  Tomy swallowed hard, and this time, his smile was a little watery. “Thanks. I guess I’m worried I’ll get fooled again. Mama and Lola said I need to listen to them next time,” he said with a shaky laugh.

  Considering that Ana Lucia and Lola seemed to like him, Jason didn’t find that to be a bad idea at all. “There may be something to it,” he said, then shrugged slightly. “Objective opinion, maybe? We love with our hearts, not our eyes, so I think sometimes we do get a bit blinded to flaws other people can see.”

  “That’s what my family has been saying,” Tomy admitted. “I guess I wanted to see the best in him so much that I missed all the signs that said I shouldn’t trust him.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and bowed his head. “It’s going to be hard trusting anyone else. I think I’ll be waiting for them to turn on me too, or second-guessing myself constantly, reading things into every little action and wondering if it’s a sign I need to pay attention to.”

  “That makes sense.” And it did, too, as much as Jason hated to admit it. “But I think if you find the right person, it won’t be as bad as you fear. If you decide to go out with someone who goes through lovers like popcorn, then yeah, I think there might be a good reason to pay close attention. But if you go for a man who’s the faithful sort, it might not be as hard to relax and trust your instincts.” He chuckled. “Not that I’ve ever been in love myself, unfortunately. But you’d be amazed at how much wisdom I’ve picked up from listening to women twice my age talk about men and relationships.”

  “Well, they would know something about it.” Tomy looked up again and fixed Jason with a quizzical look. “Why haven’t you ever been in love? I mean, you’re hot, you’re smart, and you’re a nice guy. How has someone not grabbed you by now?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Jason replied with a shrug. He could feel his cheeks growing warm, but he was pleased that Tomy thought of him that way. “I never met the right person.” Until now. “But I’m a hopeless romantic, according to my mother. I guess it’s from growing up in a traditional family. When I do find the right person, I want it all—commitment, hearth and home, and holidays by the fire. I’m even open to adopting kids and puppies and having a madhouse where the relatives come over at all hours. Does that sound strange for someone my age?”

  “No, but if you’ve said any of that to my mother, it’s no wonder she likes you. In fact, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to adopt you yet,” Tomy said dryly. “She’s been after me to settle down and adopt some grandchildren for her since I turned thirty. Like she doesn’t have four already!”

  “But you’re her baby and her favorite. She just wants you to be happy.” Jason felt a hint of worry. “Is it that you don’t want to settle down, or do you not like kids?”

  There was a flicker of pain in Tomy’s eyes at that. “I thought I’d have both with Sean. I was looking at a future with him. Mama always thought I could do better, but I’d picked him.”

  “He told you he wanted to settle down, but he really didn’t?” Jason ached for the hurt Tomy had suffered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “He kept saying he’d be ready when he reached a stable point in his career, but that point kept changing,” Tomy replied with a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I should have realized how ambitious he was, but I didn’t. I’m happy here, running the studio and teaching classes, and I was glad to get out from under the pressure of competition. I thought he would be ready one day too.”

  “It sounds like you grew up, and he didn’t. But not every man is like him. Someday you’ll find someone who will restore your faith in yourself and in love. It’s just going to have to be the right person.” Maybe, if Tomy would take a chance, Jason could be that person. He just had to convince Tomy to let him try.

  “Maybe. We’ll see,” Tomy said, the dubiousness in his expression making it clear he wasn’t ready to think along those lines yet. “Anyway, you have a dance to learn, although I have to ask why you want to learn to tango for a polite society wedding. Even if there’s someone else there who knows how to do it, it would probably make your sister freak out.”

  “Well….” Jason could feel his face growing hot. “It’s not entirely for the wedding. I was thinking it’s something I’d love to know how to dance. You know… if I ever meet the right person to dance it with. Ever since I saw Moulin Rouge, I’ve wanted to learn how to dance it.”

  “Ah, you like the sexy intensity of it.” Tomy nodded as if the explanation made perfect sense to him. “I won’t lie. The tango has served as foreplay more than once for me.”

  “Really?” Jason swallowed hard, finding it difficult to breathe. It was all too easy to imagine Tomy turning the dance into a seduction, and he felt a moment of intense longing that he knew he’d better clamp down on before he did something foolish. It wasn’t time yet. If he let himself get carried away, he might wreck things before they even got started.

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s one of the more intense dances,” Tomy replied. “It’s all about total focus on your partner, and if you dance it with someone who knows what they’re doing and who you’re attracted to, it can get pretty spicy.”

  Jason had the feeling he was going to be in big trouble if he wasn’t careful. “Why don’t you walk me through it? Who knows? Maybe this is the dance I’ll flub up.”

  “Okay, let’s start with the hold.” Tomy moved closer, putting himself right in Jason’s personal space as he placed Jason’s hands. “Ain’t no room for Jesus in this one.”

  They were standing far closer than they had for the other two dances, and Jason could feel the warmth radiating from Tomy’s body. He felt like it was fourth down and long with only seconds left in the game, so he drew in a deep breath.

  “Like this?” he asked, putting his body into the frame Tomy had taught him.

  “Perfect.”

  Was that a flush rising in Tomy’s cheeks? It looked like it to Jason.

  “So we need a story for the dance. Sometimes you can just choreograph the steps, but with the tango, it helps to have more,” Tomy explained. “Say you’re dancing this with your future guy. What do you want to say to him with it?”

  Jason was caught off guard, but he gave the question serious thought. What did he want to say to Tomy? He’d been given an open license to say whatever he wanted to his “hypothetical guy,” so he needed to make it something Tomy would remember.

  “I know,” he said, sure of what it had to be. He looked into Tomy’s eyes, his voice becoming husky. “You’re the only one I want, and I will never, ever leave you.”

  Tomy’s dark eyes widened as he gazed up at Jason, seeming transfixed. Finally he blinked, seeming to snap himself out of his reverie, and cleared his throat. “So you want the emotional intensity to be more about love and com
mitment than seduction?”

  “Yes.” Jason nodded firmly. “There will be plenty of passion, believe me. But I would never want to seduce someone I didn’t have an emotional connection to. Sex for the sake of getting off has never appealed to me.” He smiled sheepishly. “And this is why my mother calls me a hopeless romantic.”

  “Okay, then we’ll make your tango a romantic one.” Tomy moved away long enough to turn on some music, a slow and sensual piece with a strong Spanish influence. When he returned to Jason, he lifted his chin and met Jason’s gaze steadily, then swapped their hold. “I’ll lead this time. You try to keep up and see if you like what I do.”

  “All right.” The problem wasn’t going to be liking what Tomy did. No, the problem would be liking it too much. “I’m ready.”

  Jason had seen how well Tomy could lead when he’d watched the demonstrations of the waltz and fox-trot. He’d chalked up the fluid ease of what he’d seen to practice. No doubt Tomy had partnered most, if not all, of the women who worked here plenty of times before, so they were all familiar with each other, and the women were skilled dancers in their own rights. But now he realized his assumption was only half right.

  A subtle change came over Tomy as he pulled Jason close and began moving him through the opening steps of their dance, and for the first time, Jason felt the power Tomy could exert as a dancer. His lead was strong and his moves were bold, as if he expected Jason to keep up—and Jason did. All the weeks of practice with other dances had given him the confidence to dance as an equal now.

  Tomy guided him through a series of moves that took them all over the dance floor—slow but intricate footwork and turns, spinning Jason out and then drawing him back, never breaking eye contact no matter what their feet were doing.

  Jason couldn’t have looked away even if he’d wanted to. He was caught like a fly in a web, drawn in by Tomy’s power and sensuality. The smoldering attraction he’d felt for Tomy since the moment they’d met burst into flame, and he hoped his feelings weren’t naked in his eyes for Tomy to see. It was far too soon after Tomy’s breakup, and he didn’t want to blow his chance with Tomy by rushing things. If Tomy suspected Jason’s feelings, it might make Tomy feel uncomfortable, or—far worse!—cause him to want to avoid Jason altogether.

  The mood between them shifted, becoming more intimate, as if the rest of the world was fading away. That Jason was taller and broader than Tomy didn’t seem to matter. Tomy took control from the very first step and guided Jason through each move as if he was dancing with Lola or Luciana. He reached up and touched Jason’s face as he brought Jason in close, an intensity in his eyes that Jason had never seen before.

  Now Jason understood why Tomy said he’d used the dance as foreplay. If Tomy had wanted to push Jason up against a wall right then and there, Jason would have let him have anything he wanted. Hell, he was tempted to do the pushing, and he wasn’t even the one leading. He let himself be swept up in the sensuality of it all, and he felt as though he could have kept dancing like this with Tomy forever.

  But the music ended, and Tomy brought the dance to a close, his breathing labored. He kept his hand pressed against the small of Jason’s back, their bodies aligned as he gazed up at Jason.

  “What do you think?”

  “I….” Jason started to speak, then stopped himself. He could hardly say “I never want to dance that dance with anyone but you” without freaking Tomy out. “Wow. Just… wow.”

  Tomy chuckled as he released Jason at last and put a little distance between them. “You liked it? Not everyone does. It can be a little much for some people.”

  “Liked it?” Jason was still having trouble focusing, because the blood wasn’t all getting to his brain. So he drew in a deep breath. “I loved it. Adored it. It was….” He searched for a superlative to sum up everything he’d thought, but they all seemed to fall short. “Perfect. It was perfect.”

  Tomy smiled, looking quite pleased with Jason’s enthusiasm for the dance. “In that case, we’ll work out some choreography and practice until you feel like you can take the lead and dance with your man when he comes along.”

  Jason nodded, and he lowered his gaze. “I’ll never dance that dance with anyone except the man I intend to be with for the rest of my life,” he said.

  “Then I’ll make sure it’s special,” Tomy replied softly.

  “You already have.” Jason looked up again, trying to get himself under control. He couldn’t believe how much the dance had affected him. Or maybe it was the combination of Tomy and the dance, but he felt light-headed, his heart still pounding even though they were no longer moving. “Thank you. I hope I can carry off the intensity of the lead with a fraction of your skill.”

  “Practice.” Tomy’s smile turned evil. “I’ll run your ass ragged until you get it right.”

  “Well, at least I don’t need it perfect in time for the wedding,” Jason replied with a smile of his own. “So you’ll have to keep working with me until I have it down to your satisfaction.”

  “Believe me, I will.” Tomy shot him a challenging look. “You aren’t even sweating yet. That’s going to change.”

  “Promises, promises,” Jason retorted playfully. “You forget I played football in Atlanta in August, wearing fifteen pounds of armor. Do your worst, Teach. I can take it.”

  “You say that now,” Tomy replied serenely as he returned to the stereo and cued up the music again.

  Jason watched, thinking that dancing the tango and trying to hide the fact that he was quickly falling head over heels in love with Tomy might kill him. But at least he’d die a happy man.

  Chapter Seven

  “ARE YOU sure I’m not too brown for this?” Tomy smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of his tux jacket as he walked beside Jason, who looked dashing in his tuxedo. Seeing him had nearly taken Tomy’s breath away, and he’d had to remind himself that they were only friends, and he was just doing Jason a favor.

  He’d been a little leery of accepting the invitation to be Jason’s plus-one at his sister’s wedding in the first place, but Jason had turned those big blue eyes on him imploringly and pleaded with Tomy to be his shield from matchmaking mamas. It would have taken a stronger man than Tomy to refuse, and he sympathized with Jason’s desire to avoid matchmaking, so he’d pulled out his tux.

  “Too brown?” Jason stopped in his tracks, not seeming to care about the other guests streaming up the marble steps into the country club. He regarded Tomy with an uncharacteristically solemn expression. “No, of course not! You’re perfect.” He paused. “You aren’t uncomfortable, are you? It never occurred to me that you might be. You’re one of the most confident men I’ve ever met.”

  Tomy smiled at that, glad to know he hadn’t shown outwardly how much of a wreck he’d felt inwardly after the breakup. Then again, Jason had only seen him once when he was at his worst. “It just occurred to me that some of the Junior League set might mistake me for a waiter.”

  Jason clasped one of Tomy’s hands in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “I’ll make certain you aren’t mistaken for anyone but my date.”

  Tomy curled his fingers around Jason’s hand, trying to ignore how good the contact felt. “Does that mean you want to bust out the tango?” he teased.

  Jason chuckled. “I don’t think it’s ready for prime time yet—at least, not with me leading. But I’m more than happy to do it with you leading.”

  “That’s up to you,” Tomy replied, giving Jason’s hand a little squeeze. “I know you said you wanted to dance it only with your special man.”

  He valiantly tried to ignore all the uncharitable thoughts he was having about whoever that man might be, but it was difficult. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Jason, and practicing the tango had shown they had chemistry too. Part of him thought perhaps he ought to consider dating Jason, but he wasn’t willing to put himself out on that limb, especially when Jason had kept things friendly.

  Jason returned the pressure of his han
d, a small smile playing about his lips. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” he murmured, then started up the stairs again. “We’d better get inside. My mother is going to want pictures before the new Mr. and Mrs. Beauregard Jackson Lee III arrive.”

  Tomy nodded and followed Jason inside. The wedding itself had been elegant and tasteful—and much shorter than the Catholic weddings he was accustomed to. It had been a while since he’d attended a Protestant ceremony, and he’d forgotten how brief they tended to be. He expected the reception to be pretty similar to what he was familiar with, however: lots of food, lots of alcohol, and lots of dancing, especially once the alcohol was flowing nicely.

  He waited with the other guests, chatting politely and sampling some of the appetizers, while Jason went to take photos with the rest of the wedding party. Fortunately Jason didn’t have to be in all the pictures, and when he was finished he made his way over to Tomy with obvious relief.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” he said, sliding his arm around Tomy’s shoulders. “Shall we go find something to drink?”

  Tomy was a little surprised by Jason’s easy embrace, but he didn’t mind. Far from it! He briefly wondered if he could—or should—slide his arm around Jason’s waist in return, but that would probably be too forward for friends. And they really were just friends.

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  Jason guided him through the growing crowd of guests as though he was dodging members of the opposing team on the gridiron while headed for the end zone. Jason must have had the same thought, because when they reached the bar he turned to Tomy and winked.

  “Touchdown! So, what’ll you have?”

  Tomy perused the wine list. “Chardonnay, please,” he replied, deciding to play it safe and stick with his default favorite white wine.

  “Make that two,” Jason said to the bartender, then took out his wallet and stuck a couple of dollars in the tip glass when they were served their drinks. He picked up his glass, smiling at Tomy. “So, a toast—to you, for saving me from an evening of constant explanations to society mamas as to exactly why their daughters wouldn’t make me a perfect wife.”