by Donna Alward
When they sat down to eat, Dan knew he couldn’t have found a better meal anywhere in town. Two perfect spirals of potatoes were on his plate, along with rich glazed medallions and the colorful salad. It smelled amazing.
“Thank you for this,” he said, raising his glass. “To a good day. No, scratch that. A great day.”
“Except for me falling on my face,” she added drily, but touched the rim of her glass to his anyway.
He laughed. “Well, yes. Except for that. How’re you feeling?”
She shrugged and took a bite of potato. “Oh, more embarrassed than anything.”
“You would have felt worse if you’d plowed over that girl,” he remarked. He cut into the beef. Cooked perfectly, with a lovely stripe of pink in the middle. The first bite was heaven.
“This is amazing.”
“Thank you.” She blushed a little, he noticed, and then she looked down at her plate.
“I mean it, Delly. This is delicious. And so much better than eating alone at the hotel.”
She looked up at him. “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned being alone. Are you lonely, Dan?”
He tried not to choke, and swallowed a piece of beef that was perhaps a little too big. He reached for his glass and took a hearty drink of wine. He then looked up at her. She was waiting for him to answer, her empty fork poised in midair.
“I’m usually too busy to be lonely,” he admitted. “I have long hours at the office. This week I find myself at loose ends more often than not. I’m just not used to it.”
“Depends,” she mused, spearing a piece of cucumber.
“Depends on what?”
“On if you’re too busy so you don’t have to be lonely. If it’s a distraction.”
He stared at her.
“Speaking from experience, here. Sometimes it’s hard to be alone with yourself. So you fill up the hours with stuff to avoid it.”
“Delly, I...no. I just have a demanding job.”
“Okay. I just thought I’d ask. I have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.”
His appetite suddenly wasn’t as keen. Was she partly right? It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He was CFO of a major company, the youngest member of the C-suite. He’d had to work long hours to get where he was and he didn’t regret it.
But had it been a convenient way to keep from being lonely? To fill his time so he didn’t have time to think too much?
“I hit a nerve. I’m sorry.”
Her voice was soft and reminded him of too many dinners they’d shared, sitting across from each other at a small table in his apartment, or hers. “It’s okay. To be honest, I’ve spent the last four years working my butt off to get where I am in the company. I’m the youngest executive. It required a few sacrifices. Personal time being one of them.”
Of course, it had kept him from forming deep, personal connections. He’d only dated a handful of women, and then it had been five, maybe six dates and they went their own way. Anytime he’d sensed things getting a little too close, he’d backed off. He liked keeping it uncomplicated. He moved on before...well... Before a woman had a chance of actually getting him to care too much. He was the one who did the leaving, not the other way around.
And before she had time to get too attached.
The potatoes were suddenly dry in his mouth. Did he really do that?
He looked over at Adele, who was watching him with her eyes wide and filled with curiosity. “Where’d you go?” she asked, frowning a little. “You got very quiet all of a sudden.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. They’d had a nice day, but spilling his guts to his ex didn’t seem like a smart move. Particularly since he suspected his thoughts were somehow tangled up in her leaving him in the first place.
“I don’t know,” he replied, cutting into his steak again to avoid meeting her gaze. “Just thinking you might be right about the all-work-and-no-play thing.”
She chuckled then, lightening the mood a bit. “And you were on my case for never playing hooky. When was the last time you did?”
He looked up and offered a wry smile. “A planned vacation is as close as it gets. And this is my first one in nearly two years.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t leave last night and you’re taking a few more days.”
“Me too.”
They finished their meal and he helped load the plates into the dishwasher. Then he dried when she washed the pots and pans by hand. It only took a few moments, and he knew he should leave, but he wasn’t ready to go back to an empty hotel room with nothing but the TV for company. When she reached for the wine bottle and refilled their glasses, he didn’t protest. Instead he took his and followed her into the living room.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
She was still wearing the leggings and sweater from skiing, and he’d changed back into jeans when he’d returned the skis at the hill. The room was warm but not overly so, but he suspected she was chilly, so he answered, “If you’re thinking of turning on the fireplace, that might be nice.”
All it took was the press of a button and the gas fireplace came to life with a poof. The lamps and the flickering fire lent the room a soft glow, and they sat on either end of the sofa. Adele let out a long sigh, the soft sound reaching inside him and making him wish things he had no right wishing. This was Adele. Delly. They were over. He had no right to be thinking of her in that way.
Except he was. Because he’d never been as comfortable with anyone as he was with her. Even now, with that little bit of awkwardness between them, there was something else, something bigger, making him feel as though this was where he was meant to be.
“This is nice,” she said quietly, her head back against the cushion but turned in his direction. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow, but the whole day was so fun. Thank you for convincing me to take it off.”
“You’re welcome. Everyone needs a little R & R.”
“Even big-shot CFOs?” she asked, a smile playing on her lips.
“Even them,” he admitted, though he didn’t want to examine his own motives too closely. He wasn’t sure he’d like what he would find.
He lifted his right foot and tucked it under his left leg so he was sitting slightly sideways on the sofa. Adele was taking a drink of her wine and he watched her, the way her lips touched the rim of the glass, how the lamplight shone off her hair, the graceful arch of her throat as she swallowed the wine. It took him back once again to the “old days,” when they’d stay in on a Friday or Saturday night and simply chill out.
She turned her head and looked at him, and his heart stuttered. “I missed this, Delly,” he whispered. “I missed you.”
Alarm widened her eyes for a moment, quickly replaced with regret. “I’m sorry,” she answered. “I don’t... I can’t... Things are all jumbled up. I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I know.” He put his wine down on the coffee table and slid a little closer, close enough that he could reach out and take her hand. “Tonight, cooking with you, eating with you, sitting here...it feels like it used to feel, you know? And that’s something I haven’t had since you left.”
Her fingers tightened on his, and his chest started to cramp. What was he doing? He had to be crazy. But since the first moment he’d seen her again, back at the hotel, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. First in anger, then in surprise, and now because he wanted to kiss her and he knew it would be a horrible mistake. They couldn’t erase the past or the years since.
“I feel the same way,” she whispered. “When I saw you at the hotel that first day, it was like my whole world came crashing down. I thought I’d done such a great job building a life without you, and then there you were and I realized I hadn’t done that great a job at all. Added to that was my guilt and regret. I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me that we�
��re speaking. That you listened.”
Speaking. Listened. She was talking about closure, wasn’t she? And he had been, too, until about an hour ago. Being in her home changed things. It was so personal, so intimate. Homes were a reflection of the person within. Hers was warm and welcoming. When he thought about his own apartment, he realized it was more...functional. A dwelling, but not really a home.
Delly was also warm and welcoming. Whereas Dan was simply going through the motions.
But not here. Not with her. He was feeling more alive than he had in months, and he didn’t want it to end. He was tired of going through the motions.
“Dan,” she said, a note of caution in her voice, but a note of something else, too.
He reached for her glass and took it from her hands, putting it on the coffee table beside his own glass. As he leaned back, he slid over closer to her, so only a few inches separated them on the cushions.
His gaze met hers. His heart was pounding, oh, so hard as he looked into her face. Today had been so perfect. They’d laughed and talked, and being with her had been so easy. It still was. He lifted his hand and put his fingers gently along the side of her neck, felt her pulse beneath the tips. Then he did what he’d promised himself he wouldn’t: he leaned in and kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE COULDN’T BREATHE.
Adele sat perfectly still on her sofa, trying hard not to melt into his touch, although she wanted to. So badly. Dan, in her house, on her sofa, his lips softly touching hers, as if asking permission. It was remarkably sweet and hurt her heart just a bit when she thought of all they’d been through.
“Del,” he murmured, his fingers sliding off her neck and onto her shoulder, where he squeezed just a little bit.
His lips tasted sharp and rich, like the wine they’d been drinking, and she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Instead she let out a sigh, inhaled, and met his mouth equally with her own, lifting her arms around his neck.
Once she acquiesced, everything changed.
The first touch of their mouths had been a question, but this—oh, this was the answer. Nothing was fevered or panicked; instead, it was a slow burn, a gentle sinking into it that was heavenly. The feel of him, the taste...it was all so familiar, and yet exciting, too. He was the same man and yet not. Just as she was not the same woman.
He ran his fingers through her hair, sliding them into the soft strands with a tenderness that blew her away. She knew what awaited her if they took this further. Knew how he’d touch her, how he’d sound, what he’d feel like in the dark. A part of her craved that feeling again, but another part was wise enough to know it would be a mistake. A big one. She kept her eyes closed and gave herself another few moments to enjoy the sensation before breaking off the kiss and sitting back a little.
“Some things haven’t changed,” he breathed, his hand dropping to rest on her knee.
“But too much has changed for us to think we can turn back the clock.” She lifted her eyes and nearly melted at the soft, stunned look in his. He hadn’t expected it to be so good either, had he? “Yesterday you were furious with me. Now... I don’t know what to say right now,” she admitted.
“Don’t say anything. Let’s not ruin it, okay?” It was as if they were both worried that they’d say the wrong word and the fragile link between them would shatter like glass. “It’s time for me to go. I’ll go call the cab.”
She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to reply. The words “not yet” sat on her tongue, but she knew it would be wrong to say them. It was better he leave now. Better that she regain her balance and have time to think about what had happened today. The kiss was only part of it. She was smart enough to know that their relationship, if they could call it that, had shifted.
And that with the barriers dropped, she’d caught glimpses of the Dan she remembered, and had loved.
Now they’d kissed. Kissed! Were they crazy? It was definitely time to step back.
He came back into the living room, putting his phone back in his pocket. “About ten minutes, they said.”
She got up from the sofa before he had a chance to sit down again. “Do you have all your stuff?”
He laughed and lifted the small day pack he’d brought. “The running leggings I wore under my ski pants. That’s it.”
Right. He’d rented everything else. “Oh. Well. Do you want leftovers?”
She started to move to the kitchen and he reached out and put his hand on her arm. “What would I do with them? I’m staying in a hotel room,” he reminded her softly. “I know you’re flustered. It’s okay. Take a breath.”
She did, and it didn’t help. But she pretended it did, and moved away from his touch, leading the way to the entrance. “Right. Of course you are. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It took us both by surprise.”
She would have answered him back, something about it not happening again, when headlights flashed through the front windows. Forget ten minutes; the cab had only taken maybe three. She watched as he pulled on his boots and snagged his ski pants from a hook.
“Thank you. For a wonderful day and a delicious dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
He hesitated and her breath caught in her throat as he hovered, as if unsure of what to do next. He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on her lips, leaving her stunned.
“See you soon, Delly,” he murmured, and then went out the door, closing it behind him.
She leaned back against the wall, her fingers pressed to her lips. Not “goodbye,” but “see you soon.”
They couldn’t start anything up again. They couldn’t.
But they already had. And she had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
The next morning she met Harper at her studio, a rented space on one of the town’s side streets. The storefront showcased some of Harper’s non-portrait work, and when Adele stepped inside, Harper’s assistant greeted her.
“Hi, Juny.” Adele smiled at the young woman. “Is Harper in the back?”
“She is. Wait’ll you see what she’s got.” Juny’s smile was wide. Today her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, the purple streaks adding a splash of color and revealing the small tattoo behind her ear. Juny was smart, friendly and delightfully quirky. At twenty-one, she often made Adele wonder if Harper had been the same at that age.
Intrigued by the “what she’s got” mention, Adele stepped into the back of the shop to the studio. There was a large section that Harper used for indoor portrait sittings, and another for her equipment and computer, and finally a small dark room where she did her own developing.
“Harper? You back here?”
“Hang on! In the bathroom!” came the call.
Adele wandered through the room for a few minutes, pausing to look at some of the photographs sitting on a side table. These weren’t Harper’s wedding photos; the stack held a variety of outdoor shots, some with snow, some not, as well as some close-ups and panoramic landscapes. All of them were stunning, in Adele’s eyes. Her friend had a big talent.
The door to the bathroom opened and Harper came out, a huge grin on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here! Sorry I wasn’t out right away. I brought in pastries and my fingers were full of glaze.”
“It’s okay. I was browsing.” She pointed to the stack.
Harper frowned. “Sweetie, that’s my reject pile.”
“Shut up,” Adele replied. “They’re gorgeous.”
“Thank you for saying so.” Harper came closer and slid into her desk chair. “Pull up a pew. I want to show you some shots I took last weekend.”
“Awesome. I was feeling so cruddy, I hardly remember parts of it. I take it they turned out well?”
Harper scrolled through thumbnails until she found the one she wanted and popped it up on the screen, full-size. “H
unka, hunka burnin’ love,” she said, her voice low.
It was a picture of Dan, dressed in dark jeans and a sweater, the night of the rehearsal. He had one hand in his pocket and was laughing at something Pete was saying. Adele got that strange feeling of lightness in her stomach just looking at it.
“That’s nice, but what about the wedding shots?”
“Oh, we’ll get to those.” She brought up another, which was a candid shot of Adele and Dan by the chairs. Adele was threading navy satin through the rungs, and Dan was holding another swath of fabric in his hands.
“Seriously,” Adele chided, the butterflies growing. “Did you take any pictures of the bride and groom?”
Harper laughed and looked up at her. “Oh, hundreds. Hang on. There’s another few I want you to see.”
The few included one of them loading the ice sculptures together, followed by one where Adele was off to the side, speaking to a bridesmaid and smiling, while Dan looked on.
It wasn’t anything spectacular, until she looked at Dan’s face.
Harper knew the moment she got it, because she said, “That is not the face of a man who doesn’t care. Damn, girl. That’s longing right there.”
Heat rushed into Adele’s cheeks. “Don’t be silly.”
“You’re blushing. What’s going on?” She pushed her chair back. “Have you seen him again?”
Adele didn’t answer, but she had never had a good poker face. “You have,” Harper said, leaning back in her chair. “Stay here. I’m going to make tea. And you’re going to tell me everything.”
While Harper went to the corner of the room that held a microwave, bar fridge and kettle, Adele stared at the picture on the monitor and wondered what Harper would say if she knew the truth.
Since telling Dan, she’d felt so much lighter. Without this deep, dark secret following her around. She couldn’t imagine Harper being judgy about it. But she might offer a little bit of perspective where Dan was concerned. It wasn’t as simple as rekindling something, no matter what the photo seemed to imply. It was complicated, and the biggest issue of all wasn’t fixable.