AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I got out. You know that,” he says, dropping his face to my hair. “Though I feel like a part of me never left.” His warm breath dances across the side of my scalp, causing my entire body to tense.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. I think childhood stays with us no matter how far away we go. It will always be a part of who we are.” I try to brush off his comment and continue like I’m having a conversation with just some old friend and not the man that broke me into a million pieces, and ultimately the cause of my continued relationship issues.
The music switches over to something a little more upbeat, but Westin doesn't break his hold on me. Instead, he continues his slow circles like he doesn't notice the song has changed.
“I suppose you're right,” he says after a moment, slowing to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Taking a small step back, his hands fall to mine. “But then I think you know that's not what I meant.” He runs his thumb along the palm of my hand. “I have thought about you so many times over the last ten years. Those eyes, that mouth. The way your cheeks flush when you're nervous.” His fingertips reach up, brushing my left cheek.
My breath catches in my throat as a hard lump forms in my airway. I know that look. Iknowthis man. As much as I want to believe that after all these years he has seen the error of his ways and this is him simply trying to make peace, I’m not so blind to believe that such revelations happen after just one dance. He doesn't know me anymore and frankly, I don't know him.
“Well I think everything happens the way it's meant to. Now if you'll excuse me.” I manage to pull away from him without resistance. I turn and exit the dance floor.
Moments later, I slip into the ladies’ room and duck into one of the stalls, leaning against the door as I try to calm my breathing and find some grip on my emotions. I will not let this man get to me again. Too much time has passed. I’ve come too far.
I’m honestly not sure why I feel so emotional. It’s been ten years. Ten years since he walked away. And eight years since I left California, vowing to never come back. This shouldn’t be so difficult.
So then why does the wound he left behind suddenly feel so fresh?
Why, when he looks at me, do I feel like I’ve been transported back to the past?
It must be the champagne.
I’ve always been an emotional drunk.
Here I thought it would help me get through the night when in reality, I may have made things a lot harder on myself.
I take a few more calming breaths, trying to regain some of my earlier resolve.
It’s just one night, and it’s almost over. And while the thought should bring me some sort of relief, it actually has the opposite effect.
It’s like he has some sort of spell over me. Something that makes it impossible for me to shake him.
But Westin Carver is not the type of man I need in my life. No matter how much I wish he could be.
I would be lying if I said that I haven’t compared every man I’ve ever dated to him in some way, shape, or form. It's because of this, that they have all fallen short on some level. Because even after everything he did, no one can live up to him.
Whether it’s the physical attraction, the emotional connection, or both. I have always found something that didn't meet the standard Westin set for every man that has entered my life since him.
Exiting the stall, I cross to the sink to wash my hands, giving myself a quick look over in the mirror. After taming a few curls that have gone a little haywire throughout the evening, I finally make my way back out into the reception hall.
Keeping my eyes low, I head to the wedding party table to retrieve my cell phone. I unlock the screen and slide it to the side, discovering that I have a missed call from Carson, the man I’ve been dating, for lack of a better word, for the past few months. Screwing is probably the more accurate term but I hate thinking about it like that.
Deciding I could use the distraction, I discreetly slip outside. Pulling up his name on my phone, I click the screen and wait two rings before his deep, British accent fills my ears.
“Hi.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, it’s going swimmingly.” I wave my hand in the air dramatically, despite the fact that he can’t see me.
“Have you been drinking?” he asks, humor lacing his voice.
“Maybe a little.” I laugh at myself. God, I’m ridiculous.
“Are you happy drinking or drowning your sorrows?”
“I’m going to go with the latter.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it's just harder than I expected being back here,” I say, knowing full well that he has no idea just how hard, as our relationship has not gotten to the point where we discuss the trials and failures of our past. Or the intricacies of our family lives for that matter.
