Through a Magnolia Filter (29 page)

Suddenly exhausted, her legs heavy, her body aching, she shuffled toward the stairs, wanting only to go back to bed. To sleep and sleep and sleep.

Small steps count.

She frowned. How did Dr. Porter's voice always know when to pop into her head? It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Small steps count
, the voice repeated stubbornly.
Take enough of them and you get where you're going. Win enough small victories and you'll eventually win the war.

Well, the man did make sense. And while she wasn't sure she'd ever be completely cured, she could get better. Dr. Porter told her all the time that she was smart enough, strong enough to take her life in a new direction. She just needed to work harder at living up to his confidence in her. To making it true.

And she'd start today. Right now.

It took willpower—surely more than it should have—but she turned to the right instead of heading upstairs, then skirted around the huge center island and crossed over to the coffeepot next to the industrial-sized stainless steel fridge.

“Honey,” Damien said softly, “what are you doing?”

Winning the battle.

“Getting a cup of coffee.” She poured some into a mug, added a small amount of cream and sipped it before grabbing a napkin and helping herself to one of the cranberry–white chocolate scones cooling on a wire rack.

Even small victories deserved to be celebrated.

“No, I mean what are you doing with Shane?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she said, all faux serenity and innocence, popping a bite of scone into her mouth.

Damien frowned, which, for some reason, brought out his dimples. “You're not fooling me. I know a walk of shame when I see one.”

It was then she realized that she was still in her robe and hadn't even bothered to wash her face or brush her hair.

Heat washed up her neck and into her cheeks. With her fair skin, there was no way Damien could miss her blush. Hoping she could ride it out—at least until she wasn't glowing red—she ducked her head, pretended great interest in pouring more coffee into her already almost-full cup, adding a drop of cream and stirring.

Damien inhaled deeply then heaved a long, drawn-out sigh—as if sucking in patience before huffing out the weariness that came along with dealing with her.

Her mother often did the same thing. It was a wonder they didn't hyperventilate.

“Ignoring me won't work,” he said as he took eggs out of the fridge. “Neither will pretending you don't know what I'm talking about.”

“I'm not ignoring anything.” But it took a moment before she was able to meet his eyes. “And I'm not on a walk of shame—I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

She and Shane were husband and wife.

Sort of.

Even if they weren't technically married at the moment, being with him could never be wrong.

Damien shook his head. “He left you. He
divorced
you.”

Though his voice wasn't unkind, the words still had the power to make her head snap back.

“Thank you,” she managed, but had to stop and clear her throat before continuing. “But I don't need to be reminded of those facts.”

If she did, she'd only have to ask Maddie. Lord knew her best friend had never held back when it came to listing Fay's mistakes or telling her how she should live her life. She loved to remind Fay what Shane had done.

As if Fay didn't remember the pain each and every day.

“Then why did you sleep with him?” Damien asked, taking a large ceramic bowl down from an open shelf.

She broke off a corner of the scone, raised it to her mouth, only to set it down again. “Things are different now. Between me and Shane. He's changed.”

Damien cracked an egg into the bowl, then another. “If he's so different, why did I catch him sneaking out—”

“He wasn't sneaking out.” But she couldn't help but think of how she'd discovered him getting dressed in the dark, as if he was going to leave without waking her. Without saying goodbye. Like a one-night stand eager to escape.

“It's barely daylight,” Damien said, adding another egg to the bowl. “And
you
were running after him.” He nodded sharply as if he'd just cracked the case along with his eggs. He grabbed a large whisk from the crock next to the stove and pointed it at her. “He snuck out.”

“We said our goodbyes upstairs. And the only reason he left so early is because he has a job interview.”

“Before 6:00 a.m.?”

At her friend's incredulous look, Fay stared into her coffee, wishing she could somehow dive in there and swim away from this conversation. “He had to go back to his hotel. Shower and change and...and prepare for it.”

Another sigh, this one of the you-poor-thing variety. “Honey, he crept out of here like a thief. You should've seen the look on his face when he came down and realized he wasn't alone.”

“I'm sure he was just surprised to find anyone awake so early. Anyway, we're getting back together,” she continued, though why the words came out so quickly, why she sounded so tentative, she wasn't sure.

She licked her lips. Linked her hands together at her waist. It was only a matter of time before people knew she was seeing Shane again. They'd need to understand that Shane was back in her life for good.

“Shane and I are back together.”

There. That was better. Direct and to the point. A statement of fact and not some wishy-washy hope.

Damien stared at her, narrow eyed, mouth tight. “What?”

“He wants us back—me and the boys. He wants us to be a family again.”

“Uh-huh. I see. And did he say this before or after you had sex?”

“I don't see why that matters.”

“Before? Or after?”

She squirmed. Forcing her body to remain motionless, she said, “Before.”

Damien looked at her as if she was some brainless idiot. “Don't you see? He just said that to get what he wanted.”

“It wasn't like that.” Damien hadn't been there last night. He didn't see how Shane looked at her. “He meant it this time.”

“I know you want to believe that, but he's using you. It's the same thing every time. He calls in the middle of the night—”

“It wasn't that late.”

“No? What time was it?”

Well, she'd set herself up for that one. “A little before midnight. He missed me and didn't want to wait until morning to see me.”

“He didn't think to call you earlier? To let you know he was coming to town?”

She blinked rapidly. “He...he probably wanted to surprise me.”

“He wanted what he always wants,” Damien muttered.

“He wanted to see me,” she insisted, hugging her arms around herself.

She wouldn't let Damien or anyone else tarnish what had happened between her and Shane last night. Wouldn't let them take away her happiness. Not when she was already terrified of it slipping away.

“It's the same thing, time after time. Shane just happens to be in town—a spur-of-the-moment trip—and calls in the middle of the night, telling you how much he misses you, how much he wants to see you. He shows up, a little or a lot drunk, says what you want to hear, gets you in bed then takes off before the sun comes up.”

“He wasn't drunk.” Yes, maybe she'd tasted beer when Shane kissed her, but his movements had been steady, his gaze clear. And last night wasn't like those other times. Last night was different.

It had to be.

Damien set the whisk down and rounded the island to take both her hands in his large ones. Squeezed gently. “You can't keep sleeping with him. You're going to get hurt.”

She tugged free of his hold. Told herself he was only trying to help her. That he didn't mean to be cruel. But she was tired of giving everyone the benefit of the doubt when they were all so quick to doubt her intelligence, to judge her decisions.

“You don't understand.” No one did. They couldn't comprehend what the past three years had been like for her. How hard she'd had to pretend that she was fine without Shane in her life.

“I understand he's a user and a liar and that he cheated on you—left you for a nineteen-year-old.”

“He made a mistake,” she said hoarsely. “One he regrets. I've forgiven him.”

She clutched the ring hanging from the chain around her neck. Her wedding ring. She had to wear it under her clothes like some secret, like a personal sin. But soon, soon she'd put it back on her finger for the world to see. Then they'd all know she wasn't some fool, hoping and wishing for a fantasy to come true. They'd all see how wrong they were about Shane.

How wrong they were about her.

Damien shook his head sadly. “I know you think you need him, but you don't. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you start to believe in yourself and put yourself first, the better off you'll be.”

Fay's bottom lip trembled. She bit down on it. Hard. There was nothing more to say and certainly nothing more she wanted to hear, so she swept past him and went up the stairs. As much as she'd like to believe she did so as calmly and as regally as a queen, by the time she reached her apartment she was sweating and out of breath, having raced up the two flights like a teenage girl in the throes of a major pity party.

In her bedroom, she shut the door and leaned back against it. Damien was wrong. They were all wrong. She did need Shane.

She didn't know who she was without him.

Copyright © 2016 by Beth Burgoon

ISBN-13: 9781488006784

Through a Magnolia Filter

Copyright © 2016 by Nan Dixon

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