Chapter Fifteen
“Dude, what is your problem?” Bobby asked.
Tate took a pull from his beer. “Nothing.” He slammed the bottle on the bar and raised his eyes to the TV on the wall.
“I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Tate grunted.
“You know I don’t usually do the feelings thing, but if you need to talk, I’m here,” Bobby said.
Tate felt Bobby eyeing him, waiting for him to spill his guts. Yeah, right. He’d be waiting a long time. All he wanted to do was watch baseball and not think about She Who Shall Not Be Named. So they’d broken up. Or whatever the hell you called it when you stopped seeing someone. They’d never really defined their relationship.
Good thing, too. Or else he might feel bad. Instead, all he felt was numb. And he was getting more numb by the second thanks to the free-flowing alcohol. He took another slug of beer. The tension in his shoulders relaxed fractionally when he felt his producer’s eyes leave him.
“Steven Jenkins’s knuckleball is unbelievable tonight,” Bobby said. “It hasn’t been this good in a few weeks.”
Yeah, not since the night he and Noelle had done their show at this very same bar and he taught her the finer points of the knuckleball. The memory made him smile. Then it made him hurt more than any innocuous memory had a right to. A stab to the heart with a knife sharpened to the finest edge would have felt better.
“Noelle and I are through.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to admit that out loud. Hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself.
Bobby sighed, but he at least gave Tate the courtesy of not taking his eyes off the TV. “I kind of figured that. You’ve been acting weird and avoiding her like the plague. The question is what are you going to do about it?”
Tate whipped his head toward his best friend. “Do about it? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you want her back, don’t you?”
“Why would I want that? Relationships end. All of them. This is no different.”
“Isn’t it?”
Tate recoiled at the skepticism in Bobby’s voice. “No, it’s not. We had a fling. No more. No less.”
“Then why are you gripping that bottle so hard it’s half a second away from shattering?”
Tate unbent his fingers, although the effort it took pained and unnerved him. “I’m fine.”
He would be. This is why he didn’t believe in love. People who believed in love were vulnerable. They opened themselves to pain. As for him? He was simply going through a tough stretch. He’d pull through. He always had. He always would. He was a little down because he was usually the one to end things, and he hadn’t expected the thing with Noelle to end so abruptly.
In any case, the truth remained that he didn’t have what Noelle needed. She’d find a man who believed like she did, who could make her happy. He, on the other hand, would go back to living the life he led before they got involved. He had a good life.
He was fine. If he told himself that enough, it would eventually be true.
…
“Mom, you look beautiful.”
Tate met his mother’s eyes in the antique, stand-alone mirror in her bedroom. Well, his parents’ bedroom now, technically. His father had cheerfully informed him he’d scheduled movers to bring his belongings to the house the next day. When Tate jokingly questioned him about a honeymoon, his dad said he planned to move in and get on with life. Honeymoons were nice, he added, but they weren’t a true reflection of what marriage was about.
Tate had let the matter drop. No point in voicing his doubt that his parents had any idea what marriage was about. His parents wouldn’t listen to their only child about matters of the heart. They never had before. Still, he’d be there to pick up the pieces when the marriage fell apart. Like always.
His mother gestured for him to come farther into the room. He made his way to her side and looked into the mirror. In her late fifties, Desiree still struck a pretty picture. Tate had gotten his stature and bearing from his father, but his eyes and facial features were all mom.
“You look beautiful,” he repeated. He meant it. She wore a pale gold suit, the skirt skimming her knees. Her hair, a striking steel gray, was cut into a shoulder-length style with strands curling around her face, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and amber eyes.
“Tate, you get more handsome every time I see you.”
“Thanks.”
“You remind me so much of your father, always hiding your feelings behind an easy smile.”
Now was not the time to get into this. He broke her gaze to tug on his blazer sleeves. When her soft hand landed on his, he lifted his eyes to meet hers in the mirror again.
“I know you think we’re crazy, but we know what we’re doing. This time it’s for real.” Her expression asked for understanding and acceptance.
Not wanting to upset his mother, Tate tugged his lips upward. “The only thing I want is for you, both of you, to be happy.”
“We’ve always wanted the same for you.” She squeezed his hand. “Even when we were starring in our own soap opera.”
“I know,” he said, not letting his smile falter, determined to block out painful memories. “Are you ready to become Mrs. Grayson again?”
“Yes.” A bright smile infused her face with joy.
How long would the happiness last? Who knew? But worrying about it would solve nothing. He was here to be a son to his parents. They loved him, even if putting him first had never been their top priority. Today was about today. The future would come soon enough.
“Then let’s get this show on the road.” Tate offered his arm and escorted her downstairs.
The massive backyard of her sprawling mansion was decorated simply, but elegantly. In deference to the heat, a large, white canopy had been set up. Flowers from the gardens that dominated the yard added bright splashes of color. He supposed the simplicity was progress. It was their sixth wedding after all, as his mom had joked. Their previous weddings had all been lavish affairs with a destination wedding to the Caribbean on both sides thrown in for good measure.
The small gathering of guests were already seated. Tate’s two aunts, one uncle, their children. A few of his parents’ closest friends, who’d all known him since he was a baby. They’d tried to convince him that this time was different. He’d listened politely and then directed the conversation elsewhere. He’d heard it all before. He’d stopped believing at the third wedding when he was eleven.
Tate and Desiree took their places. His father, Ben, waited at the end of the aisle. Tate had to admit the old man hadn’t looked this happy in a long time. His grin literally spread from ear to ear. He rocked back and forth on his heels like an eager six-year-old in line to visit a mall Santa.
At the first chords of the “Bridal Chorus,” the guests stood. Tate stared straight ahead as he escorted his mother down the aisle. One foot in front of the other. Get through the ceremony and then he could go home and watch baseball and not think. A sound plan if ever there was one.
They reached the end of the aisle. At that moment, the absurdity of the situation hit him. Although he was thirty-one years old, he was giving away his mother at his parents’ wedding. Not a vow renewal. Oh, no. That would be too normal. He bit his lip hard to keep the laughter from escaping. Maybe he was losing his mind. Then he met his father’s eyes. They were dancing. Maybe his dad did understand how weird all of this was even if it had been his idea. Tate suddenly felt better. Maybe everything would be okay. Maybe his parents would get it right this time.
“Treat each other right,” Tate said gruffly.
“Count on it, son,” his dad answered.
His mother squeezed his hand before placing her hand in his father’s. Tate stared at the connection, the symbol of the bond his parents were trying to recreate. They smiled at each other before turning to the officiant.
Tate took his place at his father’s side. He glanced into the audience.
Only to receive the biggest shock of his life.
Even more than when Deb informed him that he and Noelle were doing a show together or when Noelle told him she got a job offer in Chicago.
Noelle sat in the last row.
What was she doing here? They hadn’t talked since they’d ended things. He’d assumed she wouldn’t come.
She looked more beautiful than any woman had any right to. She wore a light purple dress. Her hair cascaded down her back, the sun adding a lustrous sheen to the strands. She caught him staring and nodded once, offering a small smile.
His heart, initially shocked to quiet, resumed beating at triple time. Joy, confusion, and uncertainty at her presence bombarded his brain. The officiant’s voice cut into his reverie, and he tuned back into the ceremony.
He could—no, make that would—question her later.
He managed to concentrate long enough during the short ceremony to do his duty as best man, handing over the rings at the appropriate time. The same rings his parents had exchanged over thirty years ago. According to them, they’d never been able to part with them. A loud cheer went up when they were declared husband and wife. Tate watched with a lifted brow as his father bent his mother over his right arm and laid a movie-worthy kiss on her.
Tate snuck a quick peek at Noelle. She beamed at the happy couple. A romantic to the core.
His parents practically skipped down the aisle. He followed at a more sedate pace. They adjourned to the home’s interior to greet guests. He shook hands, smiled, and accepted congratulations. He had no clue what he said, but it must have made sense. No one said anything to the contrary or looked at him like he was crazy. Good thing because he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman about halfway through the line. She was talking to his Uncle Warner, his mom’s brother, who’d always fancied himself a lady’s man. His uncle rested a hand at her waist, no doubt in a guise to guide her forward. Tate’s jaw tightened. She had a PhD. She didn’t need any help moving down a receiving line.
Tate balled his hand against his leg and planted his feet to stop himself from walking over and pushing his uncle’s arm away. He shook his head. Was he crazy? He had no claim on her. He’d willingly given that up.
He drew in a deep breath when she stepped in front of him, catching a whiff of the lavender scent he would forever associate with her. He surveyed her from the top of her hair down to the stilettos that displayed her legs to maximum advantage. Stunning. No other word for it. His fingers itched with the desire to touch her. It had been too long. Seven whole days. Not that he was counting.
Noelle met his gaze straight on. “Tate,” she said, calm and cool.
He had to give it to her. She always stood her ground with him.
A clearing throat coming from his left reminded him they weren’t alone. He turned toward his parents, who wore identical, nosy facial expressions. “Tate, aren’t you going to introduce us?” his mother asked.
“Yes. Mom, Dad, this is Dr. Noelle Butler. Noelle, these are my parents, Ben and Desiree.”
Noelle held out her hand. “What a lovely ceremony. Congratulations.”
His parents each took a turn shaking her hand and murmuring their thanks.
“I don’t want to hold up the line. I know I’m not the only guest,” Noelle said. “It was nice meeting you.” With her head held high, she continued into the dining room. Tate watched until she disappeared from view. He turned back to the receiving line and found his parents still giving him the same pointed looks.
He was having none of it. He didn’t have any answers. His brain was still having a hard time accepting that she was there.
“Uncle Warner, I’m glad you could make it.” He shook his uncle’s hand and withstood the way-too-hardy pat on the back.
“I wouldn’t miss this party for the world. You know what they say. The second time’s the charm.” Warner added a hearty laugh and another slap on Tate’s back.
The jokes kept coming. His parents took it in stride. Tate just wanted it to be over so he could talk to Noelle.
Why was she here? Did she see him as one of her callers, someone who needed her help to get through the day? Was she hoping to rekindle their relationship? And if she was? He wouldn’t agree to a reconciliation. Ending things was for the best. For the both of them. No matter how shitty he felt right now. The pain would pass. It always did. Although this pain seemed to be holding on for dear life.
But how was he supposed to move on if she wouldn’t let him? Anger thrummed through his veins.
He followed his parents into the dining room. The party was already underway, the wine flowing freely and conversation and laughter abounding. His eyes, entirely of their own accord, zoomed in on Noelle. She sat halfway down the long banquet table between his two chatterbox aunts, neither of whom needed a partner to carry on a conversation. As long as the other person nodded and threw in an occasional “Uh-huh,” Aunt Carole and Aunt Evelyn were good to go.
Carole gestured toward the head of the table where he and his parents stood. Noelle looked his way. He tried to read her face, but she gave nothing away.
He took his seat next to his parents and resolved not to obsess about why Noelle was there. His questions would be answered soon enough. He’d make damn sure of it.
…
“Care to dance?”
Noelle turned at the warm, oh-so-familiar voice coming from behind her right shoulder. Tate had only gotten more handsome in their time apart. She’d thought him incredibly good-looking in a suit, but he exuded unmatched magnetism in the tuxedo, which skimmed his broad shoulders, his wide chest, his long, strong legs. She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off him during the ceremony.
She loved him so much. “Yes, I’d like that.”
He grasped her hand and led her into a corner of the darkened ballroom, away from most of the other dancers. She rested her left hand on his shoulder and focused on their joined hands. Her heart still worked, but she wasn’t sure how. Since that night, the pulse had thudded weakly, like it was working on autopilot, but wasn’t in the mood to do any heavy lifting. Now, it pounded like it had received a jolt from the paddles they used in hospital emergency rooms.
A jazz song, with a slow, sultry beat floated around them. He slowly guided her around the dance floor. Smooth as always. They didn’t need words to communicate. They were two people moving as one. Or at least that’s how it felt to her. Which was stupid. They weren’t one. They weren’t going to be one. The sooner she accepted that, the better off she’d be, and the sooner she could move on with her life.
“What are you doing here, Doc?” he asked, his warm breath caressing her ear.
Good question. Was she someone who didn’t know how to take no for an answer? A glutton for punishment? A do-gooder who couldn’t stop trying to offer support to people even when they made it abundantly clear they didn’t want her help? All of the above?
“I…” What to say? “Remember, Ford?”
His arm around her waist tightened. “Yes.”
“You were right. He asked me out, like you predicted.”
Assuming that would provoke a smile out of him, she looked up to find him glaring at her, belying the calm tone he’d spoken in. He wasn’t happy to see her. Not that she’d expected him to be, but the scowl was more than she could handle.
She wrenched away from him and hurried off the dance floor. She needed to get out of here before she burst into wildly inappropriate tears. She’d almost reached the front door when a strong hand on her shoulder halted her progress.
“Not so fast,” Tate said. He curled an arm around her waist and forced her through a door a few feet away down the hall. He shut the door, the snick of the lock audible in the darkened space. With a flick of the switch, the room illuminated with harsh fluorescent light. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
“Tate, please.” She couldn’t control the waver in her voice.
“Did you come here thinking we would get back together? Or did you think I needed to be rescued because I wasn’t strong enough to survive my parents’ wedding without you here to hold my hand?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I came.”
He scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Come on. You don’t act without thinking.”
Noelle closed her eyes for a second, gathering her thoughts. “Fine. I wanted to see you. I guess I thought you might need the support.”
“I’m not one of your patients. You can’t fix me. We’re not getting back together.”
Noelle recoiled at the barely suppressed anger in his voice. “I know that. I’ve pissed you off, and I feel like an idiot.”
What was she doing? He didn’t love her. He’d made that clear. Why was she surprised about this outcome? This was how her life was destined to work out. She’d fooled herself into thinking that maybe she was worthy of having the love her parents had enjoyed. She wasn’t.
“I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. Forget I was here.” She dodged around him, jerked the door open, and rushed out of the room, her heart sinking further when he didn’t try to stop her.
…
The front door slammed behind Noelle. Tate flinched at the finality of the sound. Of the action. Laughter and music drifted in from the ballroom, but he couldn’t go back in there. Not when it felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest and sent through a paper shredder. Didn’t she realize he’d ended things for her? So she could find someone worthy of love, who could return it wholeheartedly. Someone who believed that love existed. Someone who knew what love was.
“Tate,” his mother called out.
He turned. His parents watched him from the ballroom’s entryway, matching concerned looks on their faces. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Shouldn’t you be enjoying the reception?”
His mom reached his side. “Not when we can see you hurting.”
His father patted him on his back and exchanged glances with his wife. “Let’s talk.”
Tate shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Honey, no, you’re not,” his mom said. “And we know why. Come with us.”
Nonplussed, Tate followed his parents to what had once been and probably was again, his father’s study. The faint aroma of cigar smoke hit him as soon as he stepped inside. One of his few good childhood memories centered on his mom pretending not to notice her husband indulging his vice in his study. If she never stepped foot in the room, then she didn’t know.
His parents sat in the pair of leather armchairs across from the fireplace. Feeling like the kid who’d gotten in trouble for pulling a prank on the old geezer next door, he faced his parents.
“Tate, who was that woman?” his father asked.
“Dad, I introduced you. She’s my former cohost.”
“Yes, but excuse us for suspecting she’s more than that. I didn’t see any of your other coworkers here. Your face lit up when you spotted her. Now she’s gone, and you look like someone stole your lunch money.”
Tate shrugged. Talking about his love life to his parents was weird enough. He had no desire to relive how the situation had blown up in his face.
His parents exchanged another glance. It was strange watching them communicate without words. During their first marriage, any conversation that ended without a screaming match was cause for concern. They’d claimed they fought to make up. Until the fighting became too much.
“We owe you an apology,” Dad said.
Surprise jolted through him. “For what?”
“For not giving you the childhood you deserved. For using you as the rope in our tug-of-war.”
Tate stared at his parents, his jaw dropping open. Were they finally acknowledging their faults after all these years?
“For not putting you first,” his mom added. “For not setting a good example for you.”
Apparently, they were. Tate clicked his jaw shut and listened.
“We got so caught up in our drama that we forgot you were there watching and, unfortunately, learning from us. I’m sure you knew the word ‘dysfunctional’ by the time you were five,” Ben said.
Unsure of how to respond, Tate shrugged again.
Mom sighed. “It took decades of soul-searching for your father and I to realize and admit the person we first chose to spend our life with was the right person all along.”
His father reached for his wife’s hand. “We finally grew up, but not before we damaged you.”
“I listened to the show the past few weeks, and I cringed every time you said you didn’t believe in love,” she said. “We did that to you. We’re so sorry.”
The lingering resentment he’d never been able to rid himself of finally melted away. His parents had, indeed, grown up. “I know you are, and I appreciate it, but it doesn’t matter,” Tate said. “She deserves someone who can love her wholly and fully. Who knows how to.” His voice broke. “Someone better than me.”
His mother jumped up from her seat and cupped his cheek. “Oh, honey. I don’t believe that for a second. You wouldn’t either if you saw the look on your face. Please don’t let our mistakes keep you from the best thing to ever happen to you. Don’t let fear hold you back. Go after all your dreams, guns blazing.”
The comment, so similar to Noelle’s, jarred him. “It’s complicated.”
His father joined them at the fireplace. “Tate, we weren’t the best parents, but I know we didn’t raise a dumb kid. You’ve always been stubborn, no more so than when you struck out on your own after college, instead of joining Grayson Electronics. I worried you were making your life harder than it needed to be, but I never thought you were dumb. Bullheaded, yes. Dumb, no.”
Tate’s jaw tightened. “I’m not being dumb. I’m being realistic.”
“Realistic?” his mother questioned, nestling into her husband’s side. “Interesting word choice. I want to ask you something, but only if you promise to be one hundred percent honest.”
Tate nodded. He could do that. Lying was rarely, if ever, an option for him. The truth was always a better option. Even if it hurt like hell. “I promise.”
“How does Noelle make you feel when you’re with her?”
The question sucked all the air out of his lungs. But he’d promised honesty, and he would deliver. He spoke from his gut. “She makes me feel strong…understood.” Feelings that had been living close to his heart for close to a month. Since the start of their show.
“And?” his mother prodded.
Images of Noelle laughing with him, talking with him about anything and everything, encouraging him, accepting him, played through his mind like the highlights from the Cowboys’ last Super Bowl victory.
Loved,” he whispered, the truth hitting him in the chest like a sledgehammer.
His mother nodded, like she’d expected his answer. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life without the woman who makes you feel that way? Is it realistic to think that her disappearance from your life won’t eat at you day after day?”
Tate closed his eyes for a second. “No.”
“She makes you feel loved,” his father said. “The real question is do you love her?”
The question wasn’t unexpected. Neither was his answer. The truth was so damn obvious. How had he been blind for so long?
“Yes. I love her. More than I could ever express.” Relief, joy, love filled his heart as he said the words out loud for the first time.
His dad thumped him on the chest. “Then I suggest you do something about it.”
“I’m already one step ahead of you.”