Chapter 12 #2
“I’ll be home around eleven,” he states, like he owes me his time, or I even care when he’ll be back. Then again, he could simply be warning me: he’ll be back.
When he steps away from me, he grabs a ball cap I hadn’t noticed on the antique coat stand in the hallway and tugs it on his head before giving me one last look and a wink before disappearing out the front door.
Halle and Genie rush to the front window, like they can’t help themselves from watching him walk away.
Vale remains behind the couch, still too stunned to move. Woman frozen with wine glasses in hand, a painting of her might read.
But Mavis gives me a concerned look, causing my knees to give out, and I fold down to the edge of the couch.
“Who the hell was that?” Genie finally asks, spinning to face me with a big grin. Like she’s proud of me for having a man in my house, thinking I’m getting something I’m not.
“Dart Rivers,” Vale answers for me, only she says it with grit, like dirt on her tongue, incredulous that he’s in my house. Most days, I still can’t believe it either.
“The man who broke your heart,” Mavis states quietly, perceptively, while she continues to watch me.
Halle finally swings her head in my direction and takes a seat in a chair opposite the couch. “Oh no. That’s Dart?”
“That’s Dart.” I sigh.
“Who’s Dart?” Genie asks, her hair flying around her head as she glances around the room.
“Trinity’s ex-husband,” Vale offers.
While three of the four present know I’ve been married, I don’t talk about it much. The occasional too-many-glasses-of-wine at book club can bring out lingering pain, but for the most part, I keep Dart locked away inside me.
“You were married?” Genie asks, her voice rising at the sudden information. She finally takes a seat in the second chair.
“Apparently . . .” I swallow hard and glance at Mavis for some reason. “I still am.”
“What the fuck?” Vale grinds out.
“Are you serious?” Halle’s eyes bug wide.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mavis takes a seat beside me and cups my hand.
“Wait, what does that mean?” Genie asks, glancing from Vale, still behind the couch, to me, perched on the edge of it.
“It means Momma needs a drink. Then, she has some explaining to do,” Vale states, rounding the couch and setting down the multiple wine glasses in her hand.
Once seated, Vale pops the cork on a wine bottle and hands me the entire thing. No glass.
“Drink. And start talking.”
While my friends know the basics about how Mirabelle came to be with me, I back up and fill in all the details about Dart’s return.
“And now he thinks he can live with me. In my house.”
“Which is definitely not okay,” Vale argues.
“In your house . . . collectively,” Mavis corrects, her eyes full of compassion. “Are you afraid of him?”
Knowing Mavis’s history, I shake my head. “Only afraid he’ll break my heart again.” I pause, sitting straighter. “Which can’t happen, because I’m not giving it to him a second time.”
“That’s my girl,” Vale cheers.
“Best laid plans, though,” Halle mumbles, her smile slow and sympathetic. While she didn’t want to reunite with Knox when she first returned to town, their history is vastly different from Dart’s and mine.
“Do you still have feelings for him?” Genie asks, the question sympathetic.
“I—” I don’t know how to answer. “I have a lot of feelings toward him. Disappointment. Upset. Anger. I’m pissed.”
“You have a right to all those feelings,” Halle adds. “Be mad.”
“I kind of hate him, a little bit,” I admit.
But the real question Genie is asking is if I still care about him, love him. Despite those negative emotions, is there something positive beneath the dirt and rubble?
In many ways, I will always love Dart. How could I not? I’d been married to him for twelve years. We’d been happy together, good for one another. Our falling apart feels like a force outside of who we were.
A dream denied over and over again, taking a toll on both of us.
My gaze falls to Mirabelle, who remains asleep in the bassinet despite the commotion in the room. Because this room is also filled with love and support. My friends want to help me sort out my feelings.
“Hate is valid,” Mavis says, still assessing me. “But love and hate also walk a fine line, and holding onto hatred takes a lot of energy. Energy you need to focus elsewhere.”
She glances at Mirabelle as well.
Mavis is right. Hate is a strong emotion, and even though Dart left me, I never hated him. Not truly. I’d been hurt. I’d been confused. And most of all, I’d been alone, without my best friend, my husband, to talk about all the conflicting emotions.
It also took energy to hate someone, concerted energy that I didn’t have to focus on Dart when I wanted to focus on myself instead. I needed a reset, and perhaps, him ripping out my heart, recharged me.
I took giant leaps through grief and loss, anger and disbelief, and then, I just woke up one day and told myself to move on. One step forward at a time.
“He might be good-looking, but I’m willing to collect shovels if we need them,” Halle teases, especially as her shovel collection would come from Sylver Seed & Soil.
“I know a guy or two who could help,” Mavis suggests, a small hint to her past, which she rarely mentions.
I snort, knowing both women are joking.
“He obviously still loves you,” Genie states. “The way he looked at you before he left.” Genie dramatically sighs and fans her face. “My ovaries exploded and I just had Nolan. Luckily, Judd and I have the all clear to—”
“La, la, la, la,” Vale sings. “Brother talk, remember.”
Once upon a time, Vale and I made an agreement. Never discuss our brothers. Their decisions did not dictate our friendship. Vale now demands that none of her sisters-in-law share their sexcapades with her because . . . brothers.
Halle chuckles. Mavis smiles.
Vale breathes out a heavy exhale. “I hate to agree that he’s still a tall drink of water.”
“Question is, how thirsty are you?” Halle asks, knowing how vocal I can be about my sexuality.
Single. Individual. Independent.
I’ve bragged for years that a woman only needs herself for pleasure. I take care of my needs. With the help of some tools sold during our book club meetups.
I’ve probably been Meredith’s best customer over the past three years.
Mavis squeezes my hand. “She looks absolutely thirst-deprived.” As the subtle one among us, her comment surprises me.
“Like she needs hydration,” Genie adds. “Bet he’s willing to moisten whatever you want.”
Halle snorts, holding up her palm toward Genie, who smacks it back.
“Still want a sip of that water?” Vale asks, hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” I admit, as tears fill my eyes.
I just don’t know.