I’d gone forty-odd years without him, but now—in the last week—it had become impossible to imagine my life without him ever again.
“Dad?” Beth said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. Tell me.”
I can’t tell her that I didn’t want to ruin her big day. Then she’ll just feel guilty about it, right? I thought. “I was being standoffish with him,” I admitted slowly, my throat tight. “Not dancing with him. Not even holding hands. Because I kept seeing the way…” I trailed off, wincing.
“The way those assholes reacted,” Beth finished quietly. She gritted her teeth. “I heard Jason joking with one of his friends. I called him on it, but he didn’t apologize. I’m sorry, Dad. I really wish I hadn’t gotten to this place with such an asshole.”
“You’re the last one who should be apologizing,” I told her firmly. “This is between me and Rusty.” And my chickening out at the last minute, I mentally added.
Not being honest about my fears had already ruined enough, so I took a breath and went for it. “I just… didn’t want Hugh and Rose to cause a scene or do something embarrassing and ruin your day,” I admitted at last.
“I want everything to be real perfect, Dad,” Beth said softly. She looked out at the window of the suite, toward the ballroom. “Not fake-perfect. Not the way the Walkers want it. And Dad, if you’re happy, I promise it’ll be perfect. I don’t care what they say. Next time I hear anything bad, I’ll stomp on their feet with my high heels. These things are lethal.”
I laughed at the unexpected ferocity in her voice, but I didn’t doubt her for a minute. “Thank you, honey,” I murmured and hugged her around the shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “I appreciate you being on my side. That means a lot.”
“Mmhmm,” Beth murmured and patted my shoulder. “Now shoo—go talk to Rusty and make up, okay? Naomi will come here any minute now and tell me it’s bad luck for me to be hiding in here. Little do they know…”
We shared a laugh and I hugged her again, my heart three tons lighter.
Now that I knew Beth was going to be safe and sound, I could think about my own life—and I could go after Rusty.
I’d been a jerk tonight, and I knew it. He was right: there was something between us too special to call just a crush, or infatuation. There was a spark of something that ran deeper than I’d ever known.
And Chrissy was right, too. I was helpless in the grip of my feelings for him, scared to let go and let it sweep me away. But I had to, if I wanted to keep Rusty.
And I didn’t just want to keep Rusty. I didn’t know what I’d do without him in my life.
So whatever it took, I was willing to go down on one knee and put my heart on the line. To admit, at last, to all the fears I had about us.
I was going to fight for our future.
Chapter Fifteen
A heart of gold beats buns of steel.
Rusty, day 6
The walls of my tiny studio apartment were closing in on me as I paced from one end to the other. However much I tried to deep-breathe or think Zen, tears rolled down my cheeks.
Rationally or not, I felt used. Like Tom had just wanted to feel attractive for a week, but not be with me, for better or for worse.
I knew he wasn’t that kind of guy, but he’d also been a dick tonight. But I was helpless, because it was even more of a dick move to berate him about it at his daughter’s wedding.
What could I do except pace around, miserable and angry and guilty all at once?
My throat was tight, and my fists hurt from clenching them. All of this would be irrelevant if it weren’t for the stupid fucking Walker family and all their bubbling, seething hatred for anyone who wasn’t exactly like them.
Or maybe my paranoia was right, and Tom didn’t want the reality of me—just the fantasy. He was too new to the gay world, I should have known. I wasn’t cut out for newbies. Not that jaded guys who’d dated a lot were much better.
“Fine,” I mumbled, swiping my hand over my face. “From now on, I’ll stick to dating nobody at all, and stay sad and lonely and single forever and ever.”
Then I made a wheezy whale sound as I launched myself through the air onto my couch face-down, folding my arms under my face to cushion the impact.
I lay like that for another few minutes before a ray of hope snuck back into my world. I still had half a tub of chocolate ice cream from my binge-watching marathon last week.
Last week. Before I met Tom. Why does that feel like a century ago?
Oh, no. Even my brain was against me now. I rubbed my eyes and heaved myself to my feet. I felt heavy, not light on my feet as I’d spent years training to be.
But just as I opened the freezer, I heard… something outside the door.
I tilted my head and shut the door. By the time I did, it grew louder. It was music. Normally the people under me didn’t have a party, and besides… it was echoing around my staircase.
Oh, my God.
It was an old love song—the very same one Tom had refused to dance with me to.
And the pieces of my heart suddenly knitted together, the lump in my throat melting into nothing. I flew toward the door, fumbling with the lock so I could pull it open.
It was Tom, still dressed in his wedding finest. But on his shoulder, he carried… was it… yes.
He was carrying a boombox, like it was 1980.
His beautiful, wide eyes pleaded for me to hear him out. I stepped to one side to let him in. I couldn’t even speak yet, my heart caught at a crossroads between hope and heartbreak.
Tom came in, set the boombox on the floor, and reached for my hands. “Rusty,” he breathed out. “Dance with me.”
And I went, melting into his body like two halves of a whole that never should have been split apart. My chin rested against his shoulder, my arm around his waist, and my trembling hand in his firm one.
Maybe everything could be okay again. It hurt, how much I wanted things to be better. How much I wanted this, but in public, like he was proud of me
But damnit, I was proud of him. I let him lead, and my silly heart swelled as he smoothly glided across the floor with me, dancing into the middle of the living room.
Tom’s face was buried in my hair, and he didn’t say anything yet. He didn’t need to. I could feel him focusing on every step with the caution and precision I’d expect from him.
At last, the song came to an end and Tom slowed in the middle of the floor. Another song came on—one I didn’t know, with a slightly faster pace.
Tom pulled away from me and took both my hands. “That was Chrissy’s and my wedding song,” he murmured softly.
Oh. Oh. My cheeks burned as I realized I’d stormed out over him not dancing to that song. But there were the other two, too.
I folded my arms.
Before I could point it out, Tom nodded. “But I was avoiding you. I was being a real dick. I had every intention of being out and proud today. Instead, I let my fears get the best of me and I didn’t treat you the way you deserve. That’s my fault.”
I swallowed hard and let go of his hands so I could fling my arms around his neck. “Oh, Tom,” I murmured. “Thank you for saying that.”