Love's Final Act (Circus of Love Romances Book 3)

by S. Andrea Milne

  “I’m happy for you Beth, really, I am.” Simon leaned forward, elbows on the table, but didn’t move to touch me again. He looked at me steadily instead.

  “But are you happy for yourself?” The words came out before I could check them. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, it’s none of my business.” I dropped my gaze to my coffee mug. It had a picture of one of the My Little Ponies on it, although I couldn’t remember which one. I hadn’t played with ponies since I was ten.

  Simon didn’t reply, and after a few moments of further examination of my mug, I looked up, across the table. He frowned and stared at a point in the middle of the table, between where both our hands rested.

  “So…did you meet Emily in school?” I wasn’t normally one to pry—I didn’t like it when others did it to me, so I tended to drop conversations when my companions did—but Simon had asked for this meeting, and evidently something was bothering him.

  “Yeah, we met as freshmen—well I was a freshman—she was a sophomore and a Teaching Assistant in my first-year bio-chem lab.”

  “Oh,” I said, starting to feel like I was on a chunk of ice that had broken away from the shore and was drifting out to sea. Hopefully, it wouldn’t melt before I got off safely.

  “Yeah.” Simon continued to fiddle where no ring sat. “She asked me out once the term was over…but you don’t want all these details. We dated like most normal people do, then we moved in together once I started med school, we spent most nights at one or the other’s apartment anyway. I proposed at the end of this past summer. I thought since I’ll be done med school this spring…it seemed logical at the time. Of course, I’ve still got my entire residency to get through, but…if I was waiting for the perfect time, I have no idea when that would be.”

  I nodded. The myth of the perfect time. Robert and I had decided we might as well get married sooner rather than later for the same reason. Waiting another year or two would do little to change our situation. I asked the dreaded question: “So, do you have a date?”

  “Next June. In Manchester.” Simon didn’t smile, although his gaze settled on my face. “You said you’re getting married soon?”

  “New Year’s.” I took the last sip of my coffee, then peered into my mug, to confirm its emptiness. How soon could I escape from this conversation?

  “You don’t seem excited about it.”

  Anger bubbled up like nausea. How could someone I hadn’t seen in years presume to know how I was feeling about my wedding? I twisted in my seat and unhooked my coat from the back of my chair and yanked my scarf and mitts from their hiding spots.

  “Beth.” Simon stood next to me, a hand on my wrist.

  I didn’t look at him but shook off his hold and continued to get dressed. I’d had enough, and I had other things to do, rather than sitting here, trapped in a pointless reminiscing session with a barely ex-boyfriend from high school.

  “Beth,” Simon said again, now moving fast to get his own winter layers on. “I—I—”

  Half put-together, I started toward the door while I tugged my hat into place and shoved my hands into mittens. I slung my bag over my shoulder as I stepped around another couple who were on their way into the café. Outside in the cold, the skin across my nose started to prickle. Fuck, I hate winter. I hate Simon even more for questioning feelings he had no right to question. What the fuck did he know about me or my life? I didn’t need someone to rescue me from my ‘Fallen State’.

  “Beth.”

  Simon was close behind me, his longer limbs giving him the advantage. He grabbed my elbow. I tried to keep moving and managed to break free then slipped on an icy patch. I tensed my muscles preparing for a fall, but Simon was there, one arm around my back, the other across my front. As he eased me to a stand, he guided me to turn toward him. I let him redirect my body, because, well, it seemed he needed to say one more thing. If it would get him to leave me alone, I’d try to listen. Once I faced him, he didn’t say anything. His gaze swept over my face, like he was looking for something, finally focusing on my eyes. We stared at each other, his mouth parted slightly, like that thing, whatever he’d felt so important to say, was lost somewhere on his lips.

  Then he leaned forward and kissed me, his lips soft, his hands, which gently cupped my cheeks were warm. Nothing about this kiss was familiar. What I remembered from years ago was sloppy, a little over eager, perhaps. This exchange was tender, lips moving softy, patiently, but…why was I kissing Simon? I jerked back, one mitten-covered hand flying to my mouth.

  “What the hell?”

  “Beth, I…” Simon inched forward, but stopped as footsteps approached us.

  “Beth?” A familiar, and unwelcome voice reached my ears. “What are you doing here?”

  I turned slowly, praying I wouldn’t slip on the ice again. In front of me stood Cass, and two of her friends who I’d seen around the studio but never taught. “Hi there, Cass.” I nodded to the other two girls as I attempted my best approximation of a normal smile. “Just out grabbing a coffee with a friend.”

  Cass’s gaze drifted past me and up, no doubt taking in Simon and wondering what friends kiss like that? Then, to maximize my mortification, she shared a look with her friends that only teenage girls knew how to express: pure distaste for an adult they don’t really like, and who they caught doing something deeply uncool like apparently cheating on your hot fiancé. Wonderful.

  I hunched my shoulders so I could bury my chin into the depths of the scarf I’d hastily tossed around my neck. “Have a good holiday,” I said to the general crowd, then walked past the whole group, crossing my fingers I would reached the car before Simon attempted to make my day even worse by apologizing, or kissing me again.

  Chapter 5

  I was sitting in my car, again, this time outside my own home. I couldn’t really see in the second story windows, but I imagined I could. Robert was down on the floor in the living space, stretching after having completed a home workout. He might have put something up on his laptop to watch while he held his splits and back bends. That was his Saturday morning routine and even though the studio was on holidays as of yesterday, it didn’t mean he’d stray from his training. He was probably planning a salad loaded with protein-packed toppings for lunch.

  I had to tell him what had happened. Cass had caught me lip-locked with Simon, I couldn’t avoid it, and I shouldn’t delay it. The dread—built up on me as if gravity had doubled its normal pull—wasn’t so much about confessing what had happened, so much as the complete placidity with which I expected him to take the news. I should have told him the truth about where I’d gone. The kiss would still be an issue, but at least the rest wouldn’t have to come as a surprise.

  After practicing what to say ten, maybe fifteen times while staring at myself in the visor mirror, I grabbed my shoulder bag and exited the car. In the blink of an eye I was up the stairs, tossing my coat aside.

  “Looks like you had the least relaxing massage ever.” Robert walked toward me, barefoot and shirtless. Damn. When he reached me, he smiled, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

  “About that,” I paused and breathed, as I balled my hands at my sides, willing myself not to look away. “I didn’t have a massage this morning.”

  “Well, that would explain some things.” The smile had yet to leave Robert’s face, in fact he reached across the space between us, placing his hands on my shoulders, and pressed on them gently. He must think I was out doing something wedding related that I wanted to keep secret.

  “Why don’t we sit down?” I headed for the sectional without checking to see if Robert followed. Thankfully, he did, although the easy expression he’d greeted me with moments ago with had been replaced with a furrowed brow.

  Robert sat next to me; his body twisted slightly so he could face me. “Something wrong, love?”

  I intertwined my fingers, squeezing them tightly together, as I pressed them into my lap. The lack of bump around my left ring finger reminded me that I was,
of course, not wearing my engagement ring. If I’d remembered it before I’d left the house would Simon have questioned my happiness? Did he think I didn’t wear my ring because I was plagued with uncertainty?

  “An old high school friend of mine is in town for the weekend—to spend part of the holidays with his fiancée’s family—I think.” The tension across Robert’s forehead eased slightly. “He texted me a few days ago to see if I would meet him for coffee, that’s what I was doing this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was worried he’d somehow been sent by my parents to try and interfere with our wedding. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that—if that’s what was happening.”

  A half-smile crept across Robert’s face as he rubbed at his unshaven jaw, possibly remembering the first and last disastrous family dinner he had sat through with my parents. “That’s considerate of you, love, but I’d prefer to be kept in the loop.”

  I looked away. He was shirtless and facing my Grecian God of a fiancé was growing more difficult by the moment. So far, he’d taken everything I’d concealed from him with great aplomb. “I know—I just…”

  “You didn’t want me to worry.” Robert shifted on the sectional, so he could rest against the cushions, arms stretched out along the top. “So, what did this friend want?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.” Truth. I was still confused. I’d argued with myself the whole drive home. What had that kiss meant? Was it a test? A test of who? Him? Me? Both of us? When we’d met last night, Emily had said she’d heard so much about me. How could Simon still talk about me? “We caught up a bit, explained about why he was town…and…he asked some weird questions about whether I was happy—which made me angry—so I got up to leave…and…” Just say it. This was a band aid situation. I had to say it fast and deal with the sting later. “He kissed me.”

  “Oh.”

  I focused my gaze back on Robert to realize his blue-gray eyes were fixed on me, looking at me carefully. Not accusing me, or searching me for something, just looking at me. My stomach lurched, not unlike the way it sometimes did the first time I tried a new, challenging move on the silks. “I pushed him away immediately. I’m not sure what he was trying to do.”

  “From the sounds of it, he was trying to kiss you, love.” The muscles in Robert’s jaw tensed briefly. He was angry, but he was keeping it under control.

  “Well, yes, but he’s engaged himself. I met his fiancée, she’s gorgeous—”

  “You don’t ever seem to remember, you are too.” Robert leaned forward, and pulled me to him, wrapping his strong arms around me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, my lips next to his ear. I returned the embrace snuggling my nose into the base of his neck, his normally musky smell amplified from the perspiration still drying on his skin. “I just want make it to our wedding day without interruptions, or mishaps, or…whatever. I just want to get married.”

  ∞∞∞

  We didn’t mention my run-in with Simon for the rest of the day. I avoided my phone and emails as well. I didn’t need the distractions. I had a gig in the evening and my emotions were buzzing so high I needed the afternoon for them to settle. Instead, we carried on as we normally did on a Saturday—like everyday, non-circus performing people. We did laundry, bought groceries, vegged on the coach for a while before an early dinner. Once we’d cleared away our dishes and set the dishwasher timer, we packed our kits to head out to the last holiday party performance of the season.

  ∞∞∞

  I crept out of our bedroom Sunday morning, phone in hand, leaving Robert tangled in the sheets, snoring softly. Although he’d returned to keeping a rigid training schedule when we settled in Northboro, Sundays were for sleeping-in, a hangover from his competition days when he had to get up early all week long to train before classes. It was nearly eight o’clock, so instead of lingering longer in bed, I needed to face whatever was waiting for me on my phone. I grabbed a blanket from our living area and draped it over me as I settled myself in the corner seat of the sectional. I’d ignored all forms of communication for nearly twenty-four hours, and now I needed to face the music.

  A cup of coffee would have been helpful for steeling my nerves as I swiped my screen awake, but I didn’t want to go through the effort of grinding beans. Instead, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, calming my body as much as possible before I aggravated my blood pressure with…what? Looking at my phone, it was clear I’d missed a ton of messages and emails, although from a preliminary scan, it seemed like more than half of them were from Becca.

  I started with my young friend, certain I wouldn’t find anything too offensive among her texts. Sure enough, most of her initial chatter was related to jewelry she wanted me to try with Dehlia’s wedding dress, followed by several messages informing me of her intentions to train this afternoon, then ending with an invitation for McAllister—as she still preferred to call Robert—and me to come to her parents’ house for Christmas eve dinner. Even though I was certain Becca was asleep right now, I shot back a couple of quick texts.

  I’ll be in at the studio this afternoon.

  I’ll check with Robert about dinner once he’s up.

  I’d be happy to try the jewelry you’ve found.

  With step one of wading through my messages complete, I clicked back to my home screen to see what else awaited me. Next were a couple of wedding-related emails, one from the band, and one from Dehlia asking about the chair configurations for dinner. She also reinforced the invitation for dinner offered by her daughter. Easy enough. Check, check, two more items off the list. Miranda had messaged to provide details of when she and Lisa would be arriving in town. No issues there either so I typed a note ending with can’t wait to see you.

  That left the series of texts from Simon, sent shortly after our meeting yesterday, and an email that came in, in the middle of the night. When did anything good come from an email sent at one o’clock in the morning? Never. Odds on were that a few drinks had fueled him to write that one. Would it be wrong if I had a shot of whiskey at eight-thirty in the morning? No. I didn’t need liquid courage. We weren’t facing each other. If my hunch about the late-night email was right, he was most likely passed out in bed, not waiting anxiously for me to respond.

  I clicked on Simon’s name.

  11:10: I’m so sorry, Beth, please forgive me for just now. I had to know. You had to know what?

  11:13: Please don’t hate me. It’s all my fault. I hope your friend doesn’t think too badly of you for seeing us together. I’d been trying so hard not to think about Simon yesterday afternoon that I hadn’t spent anytime considering what I did feel towards him. I didn’t hate him. Such an emotion was too strong. Confused, yes. Angry, most definitely, but beyond that, I wasn’t sure.

  What Cass thought of me wasn’t much of a concern, especially when I’d never suspected her of liking me much in the first place.

  11:22: I’ll be checking out of the B&B tomorrow to stay with Emily’s family until the New Year. Manchester isn’t that far a drive. I’d like it if we could meet again after Christmas so I could try to explain myself better. Explain himself better? Perhaps explain himself at all? He accused me of being unhappy, then kissed me. Hadn’t I done something similar to him—aside from the kissing part? I’d asked him if he was happy with his life. He kept rubbing at his finger, like he was already feeling the weight of a wedding ring he wasn’t looking forward to wearing.

  11:45: Think about it. Give me a text. Right. Think about it. My gut reaction was nope. Not a chance. I was getting married in…I checked the calendar on my phone. I was getting married in ten days. Ten.

  That was the last text from Simon. Perhaps he’d realized he sounded desperate and decided to put his phone away. Or possibly his fiancée showed up and he had to stop texting a woman who he wasn’t engaged to and had kissed earlier that morning.

  I didn’t know. Then came the email at 1:30 in the morning.


  Beth,

  I know our meeting this morning wasn’t great. I was nervous. I got more nervous as I could tell you were getting angry with me. I’m sure you have no idea that I’ve continued to think about you since we said we’d just be friends that Thanksgiving of our freshmen year. Remembering the plans we made in high school has often helped me get through hard times and reminded me why I was studying so hard. Emily might have been there for me physically, but it’s always been you that I found courage from emotionally.

  I met up with Miranda and a few of our old high school group when I was last home. I can’t begin to describe what I felt when they told me they’d gone to see you perform in a touring circus when it had passed through town. I realized the image I’d held of you in my mind for the last seven years was only a mirage. I couldn’t—I still don’t—understand how you went from law school to a circus performer. Please don’t hate me for saying that. I’m not your parents. I’m not going to stop loving you because you’ve changed courses.

  Miranda told me how you were settled in Northboro and about your pending wedding. With Emily’s parents so close I knew I needed to talk to you before you got married. If you’re truly happy with your choices, then I won’t interfere—I wouldn’t do that to you. But, if there’s any lingering regret, any uncertainty, any chance for me, I want to take it.

  Please, let me know, either way. No matter what.

  Yours,

  Simon.

  “Are you all right, Beth? You look like someone’s died.”

  I gasped, then dropped my phone in my lap. I hadn’t heard Robert approach. Pressing my right palm to my heart, I paused. Considering his light tread and acrobatic skills, I could be marrying a ninja. “No one died.”

  Robert circled the sectional, then peeled back a portion of my blanket and sat, drawing my feet onto his lap. “Your parents, then?”