скачать книгу бесплатно
This time, Melanie looked with objective eyes, seeing herself as Kelly did, pushing away the thoughts that she was too old, too conservative…too everything for this dress.
A smile curved across her face. “It does look good, doesn’t it?” She spun to one side, then the other, watching the skirt twirl against her legs.
“I’d lose the white ankle socks, though.”
Melanie laughed at her footwear staple. “I promise.”
She stayed there a moment longer, slipping into the habit of envisioning Cade’s reaction to her appearance. How he’d smile at the way the dress flattered the parts of her body he most admired.
Like her legs, her breasts. Heck, he’d been happy with about anything, back in those early years, before the sizzle in their marriage had gone from full boil to simmer before finally dissolving.
A memory of him, coming into the bedroom while she was getting ready for a rare evening out—their fifteenth anniversary—sprang to mind. Melanie, in high heels and a little black dress, busy fastening the diamond earrings he’d given her onto her ears, hadn’t heard him come in. He’d snuck up from behind, stealing his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her neck, then turning her slowly, oh so slowly, in his arms, until her lips were beneath his—
And they ended up twenty minutes late for their dinner reservations.
If she wore this on Friday night, would Cade do that again? Would he kiss her like he used to, erasing the past year, closing the ever-widening gap between them?
Would he once again make her feel like the only woman in the world? She closed her eyes, bittersweet longing washing over her.
“I’ll get the dress,” Melanie said, still wrapped up in the luxurious feel of the silky fabric against her legs, the memories of Cade.
“Good. Now let’s go pick out my favorite part.” Kelly’s eyes glistened with excitement. “The shoes.”
A few minutes later, Melanie and Kelly left the mall, a little lighter in their wallets. Melanie swung her new dress over her shoulder, matching heels dangling from a bag attached to the hanger.
Kelly held up the bag containing two new pairs of sexy summer sandals. “When it comes to shoes, I might as well just hand over my credit card the second I walk into the department. I never leave empty-handed.”
Melanie laughed. “I’m that way with coffee cups. I have a whole collection of them on the back wall of the shop. Some of them are antiques, some just caught my eye in a store.”
Her friend shook her head. “You are so not normal.”
Melanie laughed again. “Thanks for dragging me out of Cuppa Life to go shopping. I needed this.”
“As long as you promise to run interference when Roger sees the Visa bill.”
“All you have to do is wear a sexy little dress and he’ll forget all about it.” As the words left Melanie’s mouth, however, she realized she’d never really done that with Cade.
Except for those rare special occasions, she’d never donned a sexy dress just to see him smile, or distract him from his day. From the start, their marriage had been wrapped around Emmie, and struggling to survive on the minimal income they’d made while Cade worked his way through law school and then up the firm’s ladder. Melanie had worn the uniform of a mom—sweats, no makeup and hair in a ponytail.
Then, as Emmie grew up and Cade grew busier at work, the number of hours in a day seemed to shorten and the distance between her and her husband had seemed to lengthen, regardless of whether she remembered to put on a little mascara and lip gloss. The problems that they had went unresolved, pushed to the side. After too many years of ignoring the issues, those problems had become too big, too complicated to solve with a little black dress.
What had she been thinking? That a dress would somehow magically erase the illusions she’d had about their marriage? That wouldn’t happen, no matter how much she might wish it. Melanie had to be realistic, not get wrapped up in a silky fabric and a handful of memories that stubbornly lingered.
In the parking lot, Melanie hugged Kelly and said goodbye, then slipped into her own car and headed back to Cuppa Life, resolved to put Cade from her mind for the rest of the day.
“Hey, Mom! What’d you get?” Emmie handed Cooter his regular blend, stamped his frequent visitor card, then turned to face Melanie as she came around the counter.
“A dress.” Melanie slipped on an apron, then whisked her hair up into a ponytail. Back to regular ol’ Melanie.
“I know that.” Emmie rolled her eyes. “Details, Mom. I need details.”
“Well, it’s knee-length, a kind of burgundy-pink and…” She paused, avoiding Emmie’s inquisitive gaze by busying herself with washing her hands.
Emmie put a fist on her hip. “And what?”
“Well, it’s a little sexy.”
“Way to go, Mom.” Emmie let out a low whistle. “I never would have pegged you for a sexy dress.”
“Hey, I was sexy once.” Put that way, it sounded pretty darn pitiful. When she’d been Emmie’s age, she’d worried about her appearance, spending hours in the mall, poring over fashion magazines, and then trying one outfit after another until she had the perfect one. Since she’d gotten married, she hadn’t let herself go—exactly—she’d simply had other priorities to take up her days. Priorities that didn’t include makeup, curling irons and especially didn’t include sexy dresses.
She thought back to the image of herself in the mirror, the way the skirt swirled around her legs, how every inch of the maroon fabric had accentuated curves lost behind her Cuppa Life apron. Maybe it was time to revamp that priority list.
After all, she was thirty-seven, not dead.
“I bet Dad will love what you bought.” Emmie threw the words out as casually as bread crumbs.
Melanie started restocking the small under-the-counter refrigerator with milk and cream. “I’m not wearing it for him.”
Liar, her mind whispered. She was, too. Because a part of her still craved his sexy smile, that light in his eyes when he looked at her.
“Uh-huh,” Emmie said.
Melanie brushed the thoughts away. Thinking about Cade’s reactions would only send her back down the very road she’d left last year. A road Emmie seemed to be ignoring lately, as if she saw the separation as a phase her parents were going through.
“Emmie,” Melanie said softly, laying a hand on her daughter’s. “Dad and I are getting divorced. Please don’t read anything into a dress.”
Emmie scowled. “You guys are always telling me not to give up, to keep going for what I want. Why is it okay for you to do it?”
“I’m not giving up.”
“What do you call a divorce? Why don’t you two just sit down and talk?”
“We have, sweetheart.” But a little voice inside asked if she’d simply taken the easier road.
“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.” Emmie’s words were sharp with anger.
Melanie sighed. “It’s more complicated than trying harder. Than a conversation.”
Emmie threw up her hands. “I am so sick of this, of going to your apartment, then Dad’s house, and seeing both of you totally miserable. You’ve always told me relationships take work. Well, why don’t you two practice what you preach?” She stalked off to the rest room, ignoring Melanie’s calls for her to come back.
Melanie rubbed at the knot of tension in the back of her neck. Emmie didn’t know the whole story. And there was no way Melanie was going to fill in the details Emmie was missing. Melanie closed her eyes and those very details came flooding back, ending with that day in the hospital. She’d been scared, crying and alone.
Always alone. Because when it came to priorities, Cade’s had always been work.
Emmie’s youthful idealization of the situation made her see it in simple black and white terms. Melanie knew there was far too much gray to sort things out. Even if for a little while today, she’d thought maybe—
Maybe they could.
“You got a real firecracker there,” Cooter said, raising his coffee in the direction Emmie had gone.
Melanie smiled politely. “Yeah.”
“You know, your man trouble reminds me of a story.” Cooter rose and crossed to the one of the bar stools. He ran his hand down the length of his white beard, gearing up.
“Cooter, I—”
“There’s these two old women, real biddies, the kind who sit in the sun and yak the day away.” Cooter looked to Melanie, waiting for her to nod in understanding. “One of ’em, she’s got this dog and it’s moaning. The other says, ‘What’s wrong with your dog?’ The first lady looks at the idiot of a pooch and says, ‘He’s been eatin’ wood chips. Tears up his belly somethin’ fierce.’ Second lady shakes her head. ‘Why would he do that, if it hurts?’ First lady throws up her hands. ‘I dunno. Guess he ain’t gotten smart enough yet to quit.’” Cooter grinned at her, as if he’d just given her the secret to life.
“That’s a…great story,” Melanie said. “I think.”
“It means,” Cooter said, leaning forward, his light blue eyes bright, “you keep doin’ stupid things until they hurt you enough and then you get smart enough to quit.” He gave her a nod, then returned to his coffee and his paper.
Melanie shook her head. Cooter had a habit of dispensing wisdom wrapped in allegories. She wasn’t quite sure if his tidbit today was about her relationship with Emmie—or with Cade. Or heck, the hot plate she’d burned her thumb on earlier today.
The door jingled and Melanie turned, expecting the next influx of college students. Instead Cade stood in the doorway, still dressed in his suit—his fighting clothes, he used to call them—but a little more rumpled than when he’d started his day. His dark blue tie was loosened at the neck of his white button-down shirt, giving him an air of vulnerability. He looked like a little boy trying to escape the confines of his Sunday best.
Then Cade strode forward, with the same comfortable, assured step he’d always had, and any comparisons to preschoolers ended.
Her stomach flipped over, heavy with a desire that she’d thought had long ago disappeared. But no, it was there, just waiting for Cade. His smile. His touch.
“Hi, Melanie.”
Two words and everything within her shuddered to a stop. Damn Cade for still having that power over her. A year apart and a simple glance could still awaken the spark that had first drawn her to him.
A spark, however, wasn’t enough to rebuild—and maintain—the fire they’d needed as adults. If it had, it would have gotten them through the roughest parts, the days when one needed the other, and that call had gone unanswered.
“Do you want some coffee?” Melanie said, getting to her feet and putting the counter’s width between them.
“Sure.” He slid onto one of the bar stools. His face was lined with exhaustion. Melanie’s hand ached to reach out, to touch him and wipe all that away. Despite everything they’d gone through, she still worried about him. Some feelings, she’d found, couldn’t be turned off like a dripping garden hose.
Either way, Cade wouldn’t want her to do that. If there was one thing Cade prided himself on, it was his “can do no matter what” attitude. If only he’d relied on her more, talked more.
She slid a cup of black Kenyan roast across the counter, knowing from all their years together that he wouldn’t want anything fancier. “Here you go. On the house.”
“Thanks.”
“So…” she began, after he took a long sip but still didn’t speak, “why did you stop in today?” He’d been here twice in the space of two days, after nearly a year of separation that hadn’t involved more than a couple of quick run-ins at events for Emmie. There had to be a reason—Cade Matthews was a man who didn’t waste time, or make a half-hour journey if he didn’t have an agenda.
He cupped his hands around the mug, staring at the coffee for a long second before looking up and meeting Melanie’s gaze. “Are you happy here?”
“Yes,” she answered, no reservations in her voice.
“I love working for myself.”
“Good.”
He didn’t go on and Melanie told herself not to push. But then she found her mouth opening anyway, out of habit, out of something more, she didn’t know.
“What’s bothering you, Cade?”
He drew in a breath, then slid the coffee to the side. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just been putting in too many hours lately. Or had too many frustrating clients.”
“You’re not enjoying your job anymore?” she asked, surprised. There’d never been a day where she’d seen Cade anything but charged to get to the office. Perhaps that was why he was interviewing with Bill, to find a new challenge. Or maybe he’d finally grown tired of being under his father’s demanding rule.
“I have a trial next month,” he went on.
“Trademark infringement. One of those really big battles. On any other day, I’d be charged up, ready to hit it head-on.”
“But not today?”
He shrugged. “It’s like I’ve already been there, done that. I don’t know…maybe I’m just looking for something different.”
Cade unsure? Questioning his job? Either he was an alien replacement of his former self or—
There was no “or.” The Cade she knew hadn’t had a day of indecision. Perhaps he felt out of sorts now that the divorce was becoming a reality.
“I stopped by because I had an idea. An idea for you and me,” he said, putting up a hand. “Don’t say no until you’ve heard me out.”
“Okay…” She leaned back against the small refrigerator and crossed her arms over her chest. The appliance hummed against her back.
“We’ve been apart for a year and if we go to the reunion as we are now, I’m sure that’s going to show.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“It will, Melanie. We’re not close like we used to be.”
“We were never close, Cade.” The harsh truth sat there between them, heavy and immovable. She’d thought they were, once, but it had disappeared, lost in Cade’s relentless work schedule and her busy days of being room mom and child chauffeur.
In the dark of night, she longed for that closeness again. Longed for Cade, for the days when he’d crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around her, making it seem as if anything in the world was possible. Then work had taken him away more and more—physically, emotionally—and those times had stopped.
“Either way,” Cade continued, “I don’t want to walk into that room and let the entire senior class know we’re having problems.”
Those would show, without a doubt. The old Cade and Melanie had been glued at the hip, always touching or flirting, and making so many public displays of affection, PDAs, as Emmie called them, that anyone within a five-county radius could tell they were in love. “Since when did you start worrying about what other people think?”
His eyes met hers and in them, she saw much more than exhaustion. Loneliness. Regret. But then he swallowed, and it all disappeared, replaced with Can-Do Cade. Disappointment flickered inside her. “I don’t. I just want this to be convincing for Bill.”
She slapped a smile on her face. “Of course.” The career, always the career. If anything told her Cade hadn’t changed, it was that sentence.
“In order to do that, I think we need to spend a little time together.”
Time with Cade? That couldn’t be good. Judging by the way her hormones were scrambling a counterattack to her common sense, she knew spending more time with him would only give the estrogen a little more ammunition. “Do you mean dating?” she said, nearly knocking over the sugar as she moved away from him and the idea. “Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. Why did he have to be so obtuse about this? Wasn’t the moving out, the serving of papers, the year apart, all one huge bullhorn announcing that it was over? “We’re getting a divorce, Cade. Please don’t make it any harder than it already is.”
“Is it hard on you, Melanie?” His gaze locked on hers, the deep blue eyes she’d stared into for more than half her life missing nothing, and displaying frustration and hurt. “Because it sure doesn’t seem it.”
