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Gesturing to the seat across from him, Chantelle took a seat. “How have you been?”
“Okay, and you?” She asked.
“Getting there.”
Chantelle rubbed at her forearms. “I’m coming along with the article in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slacked.
He leaned over the table. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Lance rubbed at his head. “A lot on my mind.”
“Want to talk?”
He saw her eyebrows draw together, and the way she tilted her head to make strong eye contact with him. Lance replied. “I put in my two weeks’ notice at work.”
Her eyes bugged. “You didn’t?”
“I did. Don’t mention that in the article.”
“I won’t.” She paused and rested her hands on the table. “What are you going to do?”
“I think I want to go full time with Amelia’s foundation. I have no clue how it’ll work, but I think I’ve found my passion. It’s either that or the community center.”
“What about your dad?”
“I only worked there to get his attention. He hasn’t been the same since losing my sister. Neither him nor my mother. I’m tired of pretending. I don’t think they know they still have a child left.” The words left his mouth before he could take them back. Yet, he didn’t feel the need to shield himself from her. Chantelle always listened. She never judged.
She reached across the table. “I’m sorry, Lance.”
The graze of her fingers made his breath hitch. He pulled back. “Thanks.”
She drew in her bottom lip between her teeth. “Want the best seat in the house for the fireworks?”
“You know a place?” He teased, glad she lightened the mood.
She gestured for him to follow her, and they slipped away from the crowd. He followed Chantelle to her house, and through the fence to her mother’s backyard.
“The tree house?” He asked.
“Not scared, are you?” She grinned.
He climbed up behind her, and they settled inside the doorway, with their legs dangling off the edge. She’d been right about the best seat in the house. The sun had just set, so the stars displayed against the velvet background. A few clouds blocked the moon. When the firecrackers went off, both he and Chantelle smiled. Various colors danced in the sky, sizzling as it dissipated.
Sitting this close to her, warmth spread throughout Lance’s body. His hands rested on either side of him on the wooden planks. Was that her hand next to his? He couldn’t tell, but his hand shifted anyway. His pinky finger caught hers and for a moment his body went still. Then another one of his fingers latched onto hers. Before he knew it, their hands intertwined like a stranded cord.
Why did it feel safe? Why did it feel like home? His lips parted to ask her what it meant, but she pulled away this time. Clearing her throat, she folded her arms. He should have known from the start. She felt nothing for him. Even if she did, it didn’t change the fact that he was marrying someone else.
Lance released a heavy breath. He was a fool to think otherwise. Andrea was coming into town. He didn’t know which day, but she shouldn’t find him holding hands with his ex-wife.
“I should go,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ll see you at the dance rehearsal.”
He bobbed his head, and without another word, he climbed down the nailed boards. He didn’t look back as he marched to his car. Whatever they had died a long time ago.
***
