Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Dahlia glanced at Noah as he casually hung his left arm over the peeling steering wheel, his elbow permanently fixed to the window frame.
The cool breeze caressed Dahlia’s hot summer skin.
She leaned her head against the door, feeling content.
For so long, Dahlia had tried to anticipate Spence’s moods.
Surviving her marriage had meant being hypervigilant at all times, which left zero room for inner peace.
The worst was when he drank. He knew how to hit below the belt.
Things no woman wants to hear, like “I was never attracted to you, get a personality.” And the cherry on the sundae was “You’d have nothing if it weren’t for me.
” But now she was never more ready to welcome a new season and a new sense of self in her life.
“You smell really nice. Like … gardenia and coriander,” Noah said softly.
“Well, thank you.” She laughed, feeling utterly weightless. “I’m impressed. Are you daylighting as a perfumier or something?”
“No, I just have a good nose,” he said, driving down tree-lined Main Street.
“You certainly do. Full of surprises,” she muttered.
“I’m excited you said yes.” He glanced her way.
“Me too.”
He cleared his throat. “I have to say I was a little nervous to ask.”
“Why?” she asked playfully, in shock by his confession. How could she make him nervous? He was the one on a reality show and who’d dated a supermodel vixen who defied all laws of science.
“Well, you seem to have your shit together.” He smiled.
Dahlia coughed. If he only knew. “You think?”
“And look at you. You’re beautiful. Way too pretty for this mountain man.” He pointed to himself.
“Not so.” She laughed.
Then he added. “In a girl next door kind of way.”
“Oh.” Her voice sank with disappointment.
“No, it’s a good thing.” His grin widened. “A perfect thing. And you’re down to earth, which is a bonus.”
“Thanks, I think,” Dahlia said, gripping the door handle and feeling the moisture under her palm. She was nervous too, but how could she not be? A boy was noticing her, and she felt sixteen again.
“So tell me about you. I still don’t know much besides the basics,” he probed.
“Well, what do you want to know?” Dahlia tilted her head.
“Are you single?”
“Wow, getting right to it,” she said. “Yes, I am. Are you?”
“Yes,” he boldly declared.
“That was quick.” She let out a lighthearted chuckle, looking straight ahead. She hoped the interrogation wouldn’t include her age or children. Right now, she just wanted to be a girl sitting next to a boy in a truck, savoring every single second of this new situationship.
“Have you ever been married?” he asked.
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh.” He paused while he waited for the light.
Maybe that was the wrong answer, but it was the truth. And the only truth she was willing to share. If he was scared off, then so be it.
“For how long?” Noah’s forehead wrinkled.
“Too long.” Her eyes widened. “You?”
“Engaged, not married. But that was …” He gave a hard swallow. “It’s water under the bridge.”
Now she really wanted to know what went down last year.
“Why did you break up?” he asked, then shook his head quickly. “Sorry, is that too personal?”
“No, it’s okay.” Dahlia fiddled with her purse strap.
The truth was, she secretly wanted to talk about it.
The more she spoke about it, the less power the memories had.
“It’s complicated, but short version: He never appreciated me, and I got tired of being a doormat.
Sorry if that’s a bit much for a first … ” Dahlia stopped herself.
He reached for her hand and looked at her with soulful eyes. “I get it. More than you could possibly know.”
Dahlia lost her ability to think straight.
His hand was firm and comforting as his calluses skimmed her skin.
It felt nice to be touched, and she knew in that instant that she wanted more.
More of his hard-working hands, more of his expressive eyes and charismatic smile, but she quickly reminded herself that it couldn’t be anything beyond friends with benefits.
If he even wanted that. What did she know about what guys wanted? She was so out of practice.
“Geez, I almost forgot.” He dropped her hand and did a U-turn. “Hey, do you mind if we stop at the hardware store? I have to grab a few gallons of paint for my sister.”
Dahlia smiled, hoping maybe he’d gotten lost in that moment too.
Noah turned into the parking lot and up to the double doors. He turned off the truck and got out.
“You can wait here if you want. Just don’t let anyone steal her.” He chuckled, tapping on the door.
“Her?”
“Yeah, Bertha.” Noah leaned his head back in the window. He named his cars too. Why did he have to be so likable? “She’s been with me since high school.”
Now Dahlia swallowed hard, repeating the words high school in her mind. Those two words made her feel like she was really robbing the cradle. Dahlia’s high school days were so far removed from her mind that it was like it was another lifetime ago.
“Through the best and worst of it,” he said with a gleam in his eye.
Then, for the briefest of moments, she wondered what it would have looked like if she had gone to high school with someone like him.
Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen for a guy like Spence.
It was silly to think about, but Dahlia’s parents’ deaths lifted the roots on her life like a tree uprooted in a storm.
It blocked the path to any normalcy ahead, flying past all those typical, rite-of-passage experiences.
Shaking herself from the inconceivable thought, she said, “I’ll come.” Dahlia pushed open her door with gusto as if she was finally ready to face the memory at the hardware store that had haunted her for years.
Crossing the threshold of the entrance, it wasn’t so much that it still hurt. It was that she felt stupid for accepting the bare minimum for so long when she knew she deserved better.
“I’ll just be a minute. Hopefully, the paint is ready,” he said, walking left.
“Okay, I might need a few things as well.” Dahlia forced her feet to move to the right.
“I’ll meet you back here in five,” he yelled.
Dahlia wandered down the filter aisle, which led to the plumbing section.
She stalled, picking up the copper fittings that caught her eye, and willed her mind to focus on something easy, like a fun DIY project.
But the flood of memories—painful memories of being in that exact store—came rushing forward anyway.
Even though her mind raced, her feet were fixed.
She couldn’t decide whether to turn around or keep going.
It was now or never. She forced herself to face that last thing tethering her to anger. Rounding the corner, she exhaled. It felt like an avalanche all over again as she drifted to the day two years earlier when she realized nothing she did would ever be enough for Spence.
Dahlia froze, recalling Spence playfully laughing with someone on the phone while he shuffled his feet along the linoleum. He was acting like a schoolboy with a crush, the way he had when they’d first met. Coy and charming, his eyes were wide, and his smile wider.
Dahlia inched closer, pretending to inspect the assortment of contact paper.
Even from afar, she could tell he wasn’t on the phone with a buddy or someone from work.
Within seconds, the conversation turned.
His tone became louder and more defensive.
“You know I want to see you. If I could, I would leave tonight, but I can’t.
My daughter’s here for the weekend.” His brows furrowed as he listened.
“Tell me how to make it better. I’ll do anything. ”
Dahlia tried to calm her racing heart. How could he do this?
They’d never had a good marriage, but Dahlia had tried to make it work for her daughter, all while taking the scraps he gave her.
How could she not have known? Was this the first time, or had there been others?
Dahlia walked away. On the inside, she felt like she’d been hit by a Mack truck, but on the outside, she remained as composed as she could.
He was powerful, and if she wanted out, she would have to play the game like a hand of poker.
“There you are. I just got a call from work; it’s an emergency. I have to leave,” Spence said with an intense look.
“What? You and Daisy are running that race tomorrow on Shelter Island.” Dahlia stood there, empty and vacant. She was good at pretending; she had done it for most of her married life for Daisy. But this time was different. This time, the pretending was for self-preservation.
“What do you want me to say? Duty calls.” Spence snickered.
Dahlia glared at him, trying to play it cool. This was about Daisy. It was always about Daisy. “She’s going to be so disappointed. She got T-shirts made for you two.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Spence said in his cutting, demeaning tone. “She’s eighteen, not ten.” And he walked away.
“There you are,” Noah said, waking Dahlia from the moment that had given her the courage to want more. “Are you okay?”
Dahlia blinked; her eyes burned despite the years that had passed.
Reliving the memory still stung. No one is ever prepared for that kind of blatant deception.
It forever alters your ability to trust. Yet here she was, trusting a man she’d just met.
Was she crazy, or was this something that made perfect sense?
Dahlia stood there staring into the cosmos, trying to feel something—hurt, pain, discomfort, grief—but nothing.
From the moment she said, “I do,” Dahlia had known Spence wasn’t the right person for her.
But it hadn’t occurred to her that he would cheat.
After being blindsided that day, she vowed to always demand more for herself and rely on her instincts.
She smiled. “Yeah, never better.”