Then There Was You (29 page)

We took our seats close to the front. I was lucky to pull a little weight and at the right price, score a couple of seats, front and center. I wanted this night to be perfect for her.

“I’m so excited,” she whispered as the lights dimmed. Her smile lit up her whole face, and I saw a glimpse of what she must’ve looked like as a little girl. It almost made me sad as I wondered what it would’ve been like to know her then—to know her before she attached herself to that piece-of-shit husband and wasted all those great years on him.

Sitting back into the velvet-covered seat, I watched her for the whole first act. I don’t think she noticed because her eyes were glued to the stage. Every smile, every blink, every frown. I saw it all. And as the first tear fell, I reached out to her and grazed a thumb across the back of her hand. She sniffled and gave me a timid half-grin.

Two words came to mind.
Worth it.
Every second spent in those two and half hours was worth it.

I lay in bed that night thinking of the possibilities and chiding myself for the crazy feelings bubbling up in the pit of my stomach. I tried to stuff them down—the warm, fuzzy emotions.
These feelings are wrong
, I argued with myself.

But, the feelings were real. And if I wasn’t mistaken he was feeling them too. I saw the way he looked at me. I was so confused. I didn’t know what to do.
Why did I come here? What was I thinking?
You’re here because you like him, and you know it, Salem!

I drifted off to sleep, trying to convince myself otherwise.

The next morning I awoke to a knock on the door.

“Room service,” a female voice called.

I jumped up and grabbed the robe off the hook on the door, sliding my arms into the sleeves and tying a knot in the belt.

I opened the door to a cart full of silver domed plates. A friendly smile greeted me. “Breakfast, ma’am,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said.

The worker rolled the cart into my room. “Can I get you anything else, ma’am?”

I looked at the abundance of items on the cart. “No, thank you.” I quickly looked around the room for my purse. Grabbing it off the chair, I reached into my wallet for a tip.

“Oh, no ma’am. Mr. King has the tip covered. Thank you. Please ring the front desk when you’re finished with your meal. I will come and get the cart.”

“Oh okay,” I nodded. “Well, thank you very much…” I said, looking at her name tag, “Juanita.”

She smiled, “You’re very welcome, ma’am.”

I followed Juanita to the door, and held it open for her as she left. A few doors down I heard her stop by one of the rooms where some ladies where busy changing sheets and replacing towels. I could hear their indistinct chatter echoing down the hall. I clicked the remote to turn on the television.

An envelope was placed beside a single rose in a vase on the cart, and I smiled at the endearing gesture. I hadn’t had a rose given to me in years. I opened the envelope and inside was a note from Chris.

Yay!
My mind screamed, but I bit my lip to keep an actual squeal from coming out. Thank goodness I had thrown a pair of sneakers into my suitcase at the last minute. I glanced at the clock.
8:15am
. I had a little over an hour to eat and get ready to meet Chris. Suddenly, my stomach turned into a fluttery kaleidoscope of butterflies.

I wolfed down my breakfast even though I felt too jittery to feel hunger pangs. But, if we were going to be doing a lot of walking I’d need to eat something to keep my energy level up. I called the front desk, and Juanita knocked on the door within minutes.

“Thanks again,” I told her. “Breakfast was delicious.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy your day,” she said slyly, with a knowing look.

I nodded, unable to hide my giddiness. “I’m sure I will.” Having finally given into the feelings I couldn’t deny, I felt a newfound freedom in expressing them.

I quickly showered, chose a cute outfit that paired nicely with my sneakers, and headed down the stairs to meet Chris. Typing it as I walked, I texted Alexis to tell her I hoped she’d have a great day at volleyball camp and that I’d see her tomorrow. She responded with a smiley. I knew she was probably having a blast and barely missed me.

Chris was speaking to the doorman when I walked up to them. Turning his head to look at me, his smile widened when he saw me.

“Hi,” I said shyly.

“Hi.” He stared at me a moment with a handsome grin on his face. “You’re early. I was just chatting with Terrence. He’s the best doorman this side of Manhattan. Terrence, this is Salem Honeycutt.”

“Very nice to meet you, madam,” Terrence said with a small bow.

I looked up at the tall and lanky African-American man. “It’s nice to meet you too, Terrence.”

“I sure do love your southern accent, Miss Honeycutt.” His wide smile showcased the tiny gap between his two front teeth.

“Thank you,” I pursed my lips self-consciously. “I feel like such a hillbilly here in New York.”

“I didn’t know hillbillies were so beautiful,” he schmoozed.

Feeling bashful, I glanced at the floor. “Aw, thanks Terrence. You really know how to make a woman feel good about herself.”

“I hope you and Mr. King have a fantastic day.”

Chris spoke up, seeming antsy all of a sudden. “Thanks, Terrence. And tell the Mrs. that I’d love one of her world famous chocolate pies while I’m in town.”

“I sure will!” Terrence flashed his gap-toothed grin again and I couldn’t help but smile. He had such a radiant personality. No wonder Chris called him the best.

Chris held his elbow out to escort me. “He’s right, you know,” he said, glancing shyly up into the sky.

“About what?” I asked as we walked down the steps toward the sidewalk.

“You being beautiful.” Chris looked at me, piercing me with those dark, brown eyes of his. For a moment, I felt the history between us as if time had stood still.

I glanced away, embarrassed and yet, flattered. Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel. In some ways, we were starting over, meeting each other again after fourteen years. It felt like we were meeting each other for the first time. Then again, the bond we shared back then seemed to be picking up right where we left off, so in some ways I felt like I’d known him forever.

I couldn’t help but lose myself in his gaze. Every time I looked at him, I lost my way. I lost everything I knew about myself… about us. Things had changed. We had changed. It was scary and exhilarating in the same breath.

Snapping himself out of his own trance, he stammered, “Uh… where to first?”

I shook my head of its dizzying spell and said, “I don’t know. You’re the expert, city boy. You tell me.”

Chris thought for a minute. “Let’s walk around Central Park for a little while. Have you ever ridden on a vintage carousel?”

“Vintage?” I asked. I’d been on a carousel, but I didn’t think any of them were vintage.

“Yep. Built in 1908. Oldest in the country, I think. Anyway, it’s fun! Come on!”

We walked toward Central Park, strolling quietly along the paths. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze. Runners jogged past us with their dogs trotting along beside them. We could still hear the sounds of the busy streets of New York in the background, but something about the Park seemed so tranquil. And walking along beside of Chris made it that much more peaceful.

Chris finally broke the silence. “Salem, I can’t tell you what it means to me that you came this weekend. I know it has to be kinda weird for you… my former counselor and all. But things are so different now. You know that, right?” His eyes were so full of sincerity that I couldn’t deny it.

I knew. I could see by the stubble on his face and the laugh lines around his eyes that things were different—new and fresh. But, he was right. It still felt strange. And glorious. And weird. And amazing. I couldn’t decide how I felt, but I was just going to try to enjoy my time with him without thinking about the ‘ifs, ands, or buts.’

“Yeah, I know things are different,” I admitted hesitantly, “and here in New York, it doesn’t matter. That’s what I love about being here with you. Here things can be anything we want them to be. But back home I’m Salem Honeycutt, your former juvenile detention counselor.”

“Ugh,” Chris groaned. “It does sound weird, doesn’t it?”

“Tell me about it,” I said, pouting.

We continued to walk in silence as kids ran and played in the grass, couples held hands on blankets spread out in the morning sun, and pigeons strutted around as they searched for their next meal.

After several minutes of quiet people-watching, Chris stopped walking. I’d taken several steps ahead of him before I realized he wasn’t strolling along beside me anymore. I turned around to face him, wondering why he’d stopped.

“You know,” he muttered, “when they put me back in juvie, I’d pretty much hit rock bottom.”

“I remember.” I glanced up at him, recalling the day that hard and angry teen shuffled into my office.

Chris stared at me—an intense stare that I sensed meant more than just what it seemed on the surface. Smiling at me with a grateful expression, he said softly, “Then there was you, and I felt so connected to you in ways that I couldn’t explain. You helped me so much. You changed my life, really.”

I nodded, knowing the impact he’d had on my life too. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thanked God for you,” I admitted. “You came into my life at the perfect moment. I was young too, you know. Barely twenty-four. Newly married. A new mom. New in my career. I was young and naïve, and struggling in my own right.” Throwing his own words back at him, I said softy, “Then there was you.”

I looked off into the distance, thinking of the day he walked out of my life, and said, “I can’t tell you the heartache I experienced when you drove away from juvie that day.”

“I know what you mean,” Chris said sadly, “It felt weird needing you that much… like there was something wrong with me. But, I was completely fucking lost without you. I didn’t have anyone to talk to anymore.”

The pain of that day was such a faded memory, but standing there in front of him brought it all back again. We both shook our heads, trying to forget that sad and lonely time in our lives. We continued walking toward the carousel, our chance to let the past go and enjoy the moment.

Just as we rounded the corner, I saw it—the majestic, vintage carousel with the intricately designed horses. “Wow,” I said under my breath. “It’s beautiful.”

It was like a fairytale, and I’d found myself drawn to it—drawn into the fairytale of being here with Chris and pretending like our pasts didn’t matter.

Suddenly Chris turned into an excited little kid. With a little hop in his step, he shouted, “Let’s go! I get the black horse!” and took off running.

His exuberance was contagious. “No way! Me first!” I called, chasing after him.

We rode the carousel at least four times in a row. I was almost dizzy with going around so many times. But the giddiness in Chris never waned. It was fun watching him let loose, ridding himself of the rock star image he felt the need to uphold. I watched him hold his head back and laugh, pretending to lasso the horse in front of him, and my heart never felt so alive.

When the carousel came to a stop on our last ride, Chris jumped off his stallion. “Let’s break for lunch. You hungry?”

My belly was too full of nerves to be hungry, but I could eat. “Yeah,” I told him, “but there’s just one thing…”

He looked at me curiously, “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

I wasn’t ready to give up this jovial side of Chris yet, so I playfully punched his shoulder shouting, “Tag! You’re it!” and took off running. Big mistake. He chased me while I screamed like a swarm of bees was after me.

I ran across the grass trying to escape him, but he was hot on my trail. Next thing I knew he grabbed me from behind. Our legs got tangled and we both collapsed, landing on a soft patch of freshly mowed grass. I fell on top of him like a sack of potatoes.
Thud!
I was instantly embarrassed, but the smile on his face and his deep, hearty laugh helped alleviate my humiliation.

We both laughed like fools, wrestling around on the soft, green grass. It felt good to let go. I didn’t care who was watching or what they thought of a nearly thirty-eight year old getting cozy with a much younger man. Well, technically he didn’t seem that much younger now, but if they knew I’d been his juvie counselor when he was only seventeen, they might look down their noses at me. Well, let them look. At the moment, I felt as free as a bird. Chris King brought out a happiness in me that I hadn’t felt in quite some time. I relished it.