Fighting Faith (11 page)

He barely sat down and had a drink of his beer when Sarah started squirming in her seat.

“What’s wrong with you? Do you have to pee?” Eric asked.

Sarah bounced up and down a few times.

“She has gossip,” Jose explained, rolling his eyes.

“I do. Really good gossip. I’m so excited for Faith.”

“Excited for Faith how?” Eric asked, hoping not to show too much interest.

“Taylor’s back,” Jose said, “and the first thing he did was look for Faith. He came to my house this morning, woke me up, asking where she was, like I would know.” Sarah punched his arm. “I wanted to tell!”

“Who’s Taylor?” Van asked before Eric could.

“Taylor is the love of her life,” Sarah told them. “At least, that’s what Faith always said.” The room spun as a coat of sweat spread across Eric’s forehead. The love of her life?

Impossible.

“Tell me more,” Van said.

“Well, Faith spent most of her high school and college years madly in love with Taylor.

They dated for a while, even after college, but Taylor moved on and left her behind. He said he’d come back for her, but he never did, until now.”

Jose sat forward in his chair. “He’s not the love of her life, or, she’s not the love of his.

All that time they were together, he was just using her, waiting for something better to come along. The guy’s a dick.”

Eric hung on every word, afraid to open his mouth, afraid he might be sick.

“That was the young Taylor. He’s more mature now, and he knows what he passed up,” Sarah said.

“How do you know?” Jose asked. “How do you know he’s not just going to walk all over her again?”

“Because he told me. He said he never realized how much he loved her until he had to live without her.”

“Four years it took him to realize that?”

“Oh hush! I think it’s romantic he came back for her.”

“And I think she’s a fool if she listens to a word he says. She’s way too good for him.”

“Oh, here they are!” Sarah jumped up and started waving.

Just as he was about to make a break for the men’s room, Eric felt Van’s hand on his shoulder. He leaned close so only Eric could hear him. “Take a drink of your beer and breathe.

Deep breaths. If you stand up, you’ll make a fool of yourself. Just breathe. Jesus, she’s trying to act like she can’t see Sarah. This is going to be so good.”

“Fuck you, Van.”

“Faith!” Sarah yelled, still waving her arms in the air. “Over here!” From the corner of his eye, Eric watched as Faith and her man slowly made their way to the table. He tried to control his breathing and swallow his stomach back into place. As he got a closer look at Taylor, he recognized him from high school. They had a few classes together, though Eric was a year ahead of him. He remembered him as an arrogant jock, always bragging about his exploits with freshman girls. Back then, he thought Taylor was a bit of a sicko. What the hell did Faith even see in the guy? He guzzled the last of his beer and signaled the barmaid when the happy couple joined their table.

Faith was not happy with her situation. At first, she was excited to see Taylor, but after only an hour with him, she began to wonder what had changed. She still felt butterflies at his smile, but his easy charm of old was now dull. Within twenty minutes of their reunion, he brought up marriage. There was no ring or proposal, but he made no secret of his intentions. The old Faith would have been doing cartwheels, but the Faith he found straggling home at seven that morning didn’t know what she wanted. When Taylor mentioned he’d like to stay with her, she quickly pointed out all the false reasons it wouldn’t work, and pressed him to stay with his folks— the painters coming, extreme plumbing problems— she stopped short of fleas.

After his animated confession to her friends he missed her every minute for four years, and never intended to let her out of his sight again, Faith wanted to walk away. But why? He offered everything she ever wanted from him. Why did it feel like her life was closing in on her?

Why was she more concerned with how Eric felt about the situation than with her own feelings?

Like she needed his approval, or blessing.

When they sat with the others, Taylor wrapped his arm around her waist. He didn’t move it to drink his bourbon, his father’s drink of choice, or to pull his wallet from his pocket to cover the next round. His touch should have felt warm and loving, but instead, it was cold and possessive. He squeezed her tighter and Faith looked at Eric, but he wouldn’t even meet her gaze. He was much more interested in Van and every word that man said. If he wasn’t looking at Van, the floor had his attention. No, Eric had nothing to offer her. She was nauseous.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she said in Taylor’s ear, struggling to make herself heard over the band.

“Do you want me to come help?” He winked at her, his smile sexy and suggestive.

She returned the smile and shook her head. He stunned her when he stood and pulled her into his embrace. His lips encased hers in a sweet, sensual kiss. The nausea retreated and the butterflies returned, his passion and love more evident in those soft sweeps of his lips than any other time he kissed her. It was a long moment before she could tear herself away.

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right back.”

In the privacy of the restroom, Faith splashed her face and worked to slow her thoughts.

What Taylor symbolized appealed to her, yet, what the hell took him so long to choose her? Why would he show up, unannounced, and expect she’d be waiting for his return? It would be easy to slip back into the same old habits with him— waiting around for him to decide to come home, spending the day excited about their plans, only to have him cancel at the last minute, leaving her home to bear her disappointment alone.

Would he still think more of himself than those around him? Did she just admit that as one of his faults? It was true, though. Taylor always came first. A distant second was the most she ever hoped for, but now, she wanted more. Hell, she could be content on her own, using Eric to satisfy all her physical needs, as long as he was willing.

But, there was the matter of Taylor’s kiss. It nearly had her weak in the knees. Eric’s kisses didn’t do that. In fact, she couldn’t even remember how Eric’s kiss felt.
Taylor deserves a
chance at least, a chance to show me I’m important to him
. With the decision made, she left the bathroom and went back to the table.

Before she could sit, Van jumped up and took her hand.

“Dance with me, Faith,” he said, pulling her toward the dance floor. She looked back to the table. Only Taylor, Eric, and Tim remained. Taylor smiled and waved her away, obviously not threatened by the short, agreeable man.

The band played an old Three Dog Night tune, and Van pulled her into a relaxed jitterbug-waltz cross. The way he glided around the floor and led her effortlessly was impressive, and Faith had to chuckle. How could men like Taylor not sense the danger of a man like Van, who, although not the most handsome man around, could likely have his pick of women?

He wrapped his arm around her waist and spun them in a circle. Many couples danced, but Van maneuvered them through and around the others so Faith never felt crowded.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said, pulling her close.

“Congratulations? For what?”

“I hear wedding bells are in your future.” He flung her to the end of his reach and pulled her back.

“Who told you that?”

“Sarah said something about Taylor coming back to lay claim to you.”

“Taylor has no claim on me,” she said, louder than she needed to.

“I’m glad to hear that. If he did, I might not get to see as much of you anymore, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his brow.

“Van!” Faith slapped his shoulder. “You are just rude. A gentleman wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Have I done anything since we met to make you think I’m a gentleman?” He spun her so her back was to him then swung her around and into his arms.

“I don’t know what will happen with Taylor. I never really expected to see him again, at least, not with an interest in me.”

“I know Eric will be bummed.”

“Eric? How? Didn’t he explain there isn’t anything between us?” Van rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he told me all about it. You should ask him to dance.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you know you want to, and I think he’d like that.”

“Maybe, but I doubt Taylor would.”

“You said he had no claim to you, so who cares?”

Faith looked to see Eric still at the table with Tim, but Taylor was at the bar talking to a group of people she didn’t recognize, most of them women. “Maybe I will.”

“Do it. I’d love to see how well you two can move on the dance floor, though I don’t think there’s any way you can beat this morning.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“I’m serious, Faith. Dance with him.”

The idea made her pulse race, but what if he said no? He was in a foul mood already—

that was clear. If he took it out on her, she wasn’t sure she could take it. Not tonight. As it was, tears hovered near the surface, ready, should the need arise.

“He won’t say no,” Van assured her as the song ended. “Just do it.” He led her back to the table by the hand, giving her a squeeze before letting go.

The sound of her heartbeat threatened to drown out everything around her. She stared at Eric until her eyes met his, their inviting depths pulling her away from her thoughts, silencing the deafening rhythm of her pulse and wiping away her reason for staring at him, until Van nudged her with his foot.

“Eric? Dance with me?”

His mouth dropped open and Tim’s eyebrows rose. Faith tried to smile.

“Uh, yeah,” he bumbled, slowly rising.

Faith checked the bar again to make sure Taylor was still occupied, and then turned toward the dance floor with Eric at her heels. Once more, her pounding pulse replaced the rhythm of the band. After all the crazy things she and Eric had been through over the last few months, why did something as innocent as dancing have her so worked up? The band played The Rolling Stones as she turned and waited for him to touch her.

***

Eric pulled her body to his and held her close. She didn’t resist and returned his embrace.

The entire night was a blur at this point, a continuum of dizzy spells, panic, fear, and anger.

Holding her in his arms gave him a new feeling, at once unfamiliar, but welcome.

He sang along to the song in her ear, “Graceless lady, you know who I am. You know I can't let you slide through my hands. Wild horses couldn't drag me away.” After a few moments, she spoke— “We should probably start moving or people are going to wonder what’s wrong with us. I know you know how to dance— I’ve seen you do it.” The words didn’t sink in right away, but when they did, Eric realized he was standing in the middle of the dance floor hugging Faith as tight as he could, singing to her. He loosened his hold on her, began to sway to the song, and buried his face in her hair. His heart pushed at him to do something, say anything to convince her to be with him.

After a few minutes of silence, she said, “You’re very quiet. I thought maybe you had something you wanted to say to me,” Faith said.

Was there something he wanted to say? Should he tell her he wanted to kiss her, that he didn’t want to let her go? Could he tell her to forget about Taylor and be with him? Did she want him to say something in particular? The more he thought about it, the more he realized, he didn’t know how to talk to Faith. All they’d ever done was argue, exchange barbs, or tell each other how good something felt. They’d never had a normal conversation.

“No, I don’t,” he finally said.

She pulled her head away to look at him, but he couldn’t meet her eye. “Okay, I just keep thinking you’re on the verge of saying something.”

He pressed her head back to his shoulder. “I…” he started, but didn’t know how to continue.

“You what?” she mumbled into his shirt.

“I— I don’t know how to talk to you,” he finally spit out.

She looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I…we’ve never,” he shook his head in frustration, “we always—”

“Mind if I cut in?” Faith’s body jerked away from his as Taylor pulled on her arm.

The sudden loss of her warmth against his skin gave him chills, and he shook his head to clear the fog from his mind. He searched Faith’s eyes for some glimpse of what she felt, but he only found his confusion mirrored back.

“No, of course not,” he managed as he turned away, even though every bone in his body wanted to knock Taylor to the ground.

He passed by the bar and grabbed Van’s arm as he did. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Van jumped off his stool and followed him. “Where are you going? It’s early?”

“I have a headache. Drinking and dancing isn’t going to make it any better.”

“Dude,” Van stepped in front of him. “Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?”

“Not unless you can get rid of this headache for me.” Eric pushed past him and walked out the door, into the parking lot. Soon, footsteps sounded in the gravel behind him. Over his shoulder, he saw Van scurrying to catch him.

“Eric, slow down,” Van panted, out of breath after only fifty feet.

“What?” Eric turned on his heel.

“I don’t know what you’re so freaked out about.” Van stopped to wipe his brow, his face glowing pink. “She’s obviously not into him.”

“I’m not freaked out. And of course she is. He’s the love of her life.” Eric turned and continued on his way.

“Well, for someone who’s so in love, Faith sure looked uncomfortable with him. If fact, she spent most of her time trying to sneak a peek at you.”

“Really?” Eric stopped again.

“Really.” Van pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and stuck it between his lips. His hand fished around for a lighter.

“No,” Eric shook his head and thumped Van’s shirt pocket, where his lighter showed through. “She’s probably just bummed we won’t be able to screw around anymore.” Van stomped his feet and spread his arms wide. “Well, duh! If she was happy about him being back, she wouldn’t have any regrets about not being able to bump nasties with you anymore.” He lit his cigarette and dropped the lighter back in his pocket. “Maybe you haven’t won the hand, but you’d be an idiot to fold when you’ve got such good cards. Hell, that dickhead is betting, and raising, without even looking at his hole cards!”