37. Jeanie
37 /
jeanie
Crash Course
A hollow pain creeps across my chest as Roman and Sophia slow dance at the center of the ballroom. But it’s not Roman’s unfortunate dance moves that make me grimace. It’s the music pouring out of the sound system.
Playing for everyone to hear is our wedding song by a popular boy band from years ago.
What the heck is this?
“What’s wrong?” Nathan asks when he registers my expression.
Tears well in my eyes despite my efforts to hold it together. Memories of our wedding day ricochet through my mind. I might not have been as sleek as Sophia in my bead-encrusted puffy sleeves or tornado of white tulle fabric, but I was a happy bride. Roman and I were both happy.
One of the singers croons about how he’ll love and cherish his bride for the rest of his life. Roman sang those lyrics to me as we danced our first dance. So much for loving me forever . The pain Nathan has helped me stuff away resurfaces like a dangerous sunburn.
“We don’t have to do this. We can leave. I was serious about Australia.” Nathan gathers me into an embrace like he’s trying to save me from being caught in the ruthless undertow of my divorce depression. I’ve discovered, it’s a wave that comes and goes.
But when will it ebb?
I hold Nathan tighter than I ever have, using him as a flotation device, willing our connection to keep me from drowning. This is only a hiccup on the bumpy road to recovery. Even if all my self-assurances are true, hearing this song makes me shaky.
With my chin hooked over Nathan’s shoulder, I regard Roman and Sophia. They haven’t noticed us yet. In their private moment, they’re laughing and giddy.
When I arrived in Miami Beach to break up their wedding, I was in denial and angry. Now I’m sad, like I’m going through the stages of grief. My heart is heavy.
“Thank goodness you guys made it!” Sophia says over the music when she spots us.
She crosses to join our hug, completely clueless about what’s happening. I gather myself and give Nathan a look I hope he understands. I can do this.
He kisses my cheek and whispers, “ We’ve got this.”
How can Nathan stand by me as I go through the motions of my divorce death? How can he be so encouraging and understanding when we’ve only truly known each other a few days?
He’s so amazing, it underscores that my chances of surviving him are slim. Not that I’m a bad person— okay, I’m a little bad—but there are better choices, other women who are not only in the same stage of life as he is, but less damaged than me . I’m damaged.
Sophia unwinds herself from our group hug. “You’re so perfect together, I can’t stand it.”
She’s the kind of person who tries to only see the good. I admire her for it. She’s lucky to be so optimistic.
On the flip side, Roman keeps his distance. He appears angry, but then I remember why. I tackled him into a pool yesterday while hotel guests watched. He’ll hold a grudge about it forever.
Nathan wraps a protective arm around my back as we step deeper into the ballroom. Because he knows I want to get this over fast, he immediately begins a crash course in ballroom dancing.
Even though I’ve never done this before, Nathan and I demonstrate a simple dance. He’s an excellent lead, guiding me through the steps. The dance is elegant with moves that will show off Sophia in her beautiful dress. It ends with a crowd-pleasing spin and a dip. Nathan promises applause and cheers.
When Roman and Sophia try the dance, their good moods unravel. Roman is uncomfortable, tripping over his own feet, which makes him crankier. Though Sophia can dance, her rhythm is slightly off. It’s not long before they bicker about who’s responsible for messing up.
To hasten things along, Nathan attempts to dance with Roman in place of Sophia. Predictably, things turn tense. When Roman bats Nathan’s hand away from his shoulder, I jump from my seat where I’ve been studying the three .
“I’ll dance with Roman,” I say as I wave off Nathan. You dance with Sophia.”
Nathan shoots me his are you sure expression, and I nod.
We can do this.
Our wedding song, which I now understand is also their wedding song, plays on a loop. Thankfully, by the twentieth time, I become numb to the words, losing all feeling inside and out. I’m already over it.
For the most part.
I focus on the massive chandelier when Roman places one hand on my hip, and with the other, holds my hand. In silence, we dance the routine without issue. He’s a better dancer with me, but we’ve had years of practice.
“Jeanie.” He swallows as if he’s nervous. “I’m sorry about the song. Sophia picked it.”
I lift my chin and take a deep breath. It helps to steel my emotions.
At first, I thought Sophia chose it to hurt me, but she never attended our wedding. By that point in my life, I was distanced from my dad and step-Satan, and by association, Sophia.
A lost memory comes to me. The few times she and I got along, we’d sing this boy band’s songs into our hairbrushes right before bedtime. I suspect the fact she picked this song says more about the time she spent with me than with Roman. Because I’m doing this for Sophia, I keep this tidbit to myself.
“I fought her on it,” Roman says.
“It’s fine. I’m not upset.” I give him a half smile, even though I know he didn’t bother explaining it was our song first.
“Then why are you squeezing the blood out of my hand?” he asks.
I release him and step away. My attention drops when I realize the real reason for my death grip.
This is the first time I’ve touched Roman in an intimate way in years. Years. I rub a palm down my arm, trying to get a handle on how that makes me feel.
Different.
“Jeanie.” Roman’s gaze flashes to Nathan as he waltzes Sophia in circles like she’s Cinderella. When they turn back, heading in our direction, Roman’s words become rushed. “I want to set up a time after, later, tonight or whenever, for us to talk about things. Can we do that?”
The problem isn’t that Roman wants to talk. It’s the way he’s saying it. His delivery makes me believe he doesn’t want Sophia or Nathan to hear whatever he has to say.