Chapter 7

He knew where he had gone wrong. He didn’t know how to make things right again. After five years, he couldn’t get her off his mind. She was hard to find, but he saw her.

The minute his PI told him he had located her PO Box, Ethan didn’t hesitate. All communication between them had been initiated through legal counsel during their divorce. So, when Ethan learned about the court ordering alimony to be paid to him through her, he was shocked.

Hadn’t he taken enough from her all those miserable years? Now, they expected her to repay him for the failed IVF treatments. He lost those pregnancies, too. This was too much.

“Who ordered Leigh Anne to pay me alimony toward her IVF treatments?” Ethan aggressively scolded Leonard Roth, his family’s lawyer of thirty years. “Those losses were mine, too. We both knew the risks! We were both told that it was possible it might not be successful.”

“We thought it would be in your best interest, Ethan.” He was nervous.

“Who’s we? Not me...” Ethan tried to be calm. He knew whose harebrained scheme this was.

“We, your parents—Ethan. And it wasn’t all cut and dry. The specialist you went to wasn’t one hundred percent honest. She led you to believe if Leigh Anne stayed on her medication throughout the pregnancies, then at least one would survive.”

“There was an eighty percent chance, Leonard. An eighty percent chance it wouldn’t work. That included the medication being increased. They kept increasing the dosages as we kept getting pregnant, but she continued losing the pregnancies.” This conversation was opening old wounds. “What does my mother think? Is she intentionally sabotaging our efforts? We have both wanted children since our senior year of high school.”

“Well, there was substantial evi—”

“Don’t, don’t you dare, old man! You knew her, and you saw how she struggled with each loss. And now, Mother wants me to reap the benefits of her grief all over again?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Ethan. Your mother is just looking out for your best interest.”

Scoffing, he had just about enough of this bullshit. “No, no, absolutely not! I want this canceled. I want it reversed. I don’t want her money. If anyone deserves alimony, it...”

“Who, darling? Who deserves alimony?” And in walked the leach—Caroline, Ethan’s harpy: correction, second wife.

“Do it, Leonard. Stop this, or I’ll fire you and retain new representation.”

Six Weeks Later—A Familiar Stranger’s Home

He wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she was tired of fighting. It was bad enough he wouldn’t allow her to wait tables or tend to the bar since they released her from the hospital. Instead, he had her at the ticket booth, taking money for admission into the club side of the bar. Since she insisted on working, he gave her the safest role and paid her triple what she had earned. She had to recoup the loss of her second job and forget about street performing.

“Hey, that’s thirty dollars—ten each for admission.” She had to remember to smile at the customers. She learned the hard way when Theo caught her grimacing at a bachelorette party two weeks ago. Let’s say the party wasn’t pleased by the lackluster greeting they received at the door. So, they showed their appreciation with an ice bucket filled with ice water over her head.

Service with a smile, they cheered.

“Now see, that’s better...” He pointedly grinned like a Cheshire Cat on the other side of the glass partition. “Why don’t you head home? You have physical therapy early tomorrow morning.”

“No, I will close up tonight. I need the money for ali—” She caught herself giving away too much of her story.

He heard her but chose not to press her. “No, you need to rest. You won’t be missing any money from your paycheck. I’ll see you later.

Theo also stipulated if he was continuing to let her work, she would stay with him—at least until her physical therapist deemed her healed enough to go home. Her stipulation was to have Gretel with her. He agreed, as did she.

Theo called her an Uber to take her home since he still hated her walking home, and she couldn’t drive or ride her bike yet.

On her way out, she looked over her shoulder before entering the Uber. “I’m out of the sling at the end of the week. I may not be out of your house, but you’re no longer responsible for my transportation or care when I'm out of this plaster of paris cage. I’m older than you are, kiddo. I’ll fend for myself and Gretel.”

Theo blankly stared. That stung a little, but he didn’t let her know it.

“Don’t wait up, honey.”

His house was cold, hard, streamlined—all the aesthetics of a crisp, clean hospital ward, but more like the white padded cell kind. Theo’s house reminded her of a dark, dank tomb, like the one she shared with Ethan. She liked the cozier farmhouse design where things looked worn and lived in. Home where a family lived, played, and loved one another. Theo’s house looked that way from the outside, but looks were deceiving.

She made the mistake of walking into his living area without her cozy socks and nearly froze her toes off. And poor Gretel. She slipped and slid every morning on the way to her cat bowls. Another reason she couldn’t get close to Theo was that he was a younger, taller version of her ex-husband.

The best features of his home were the lights and the sounds from the pier and the Ferris wheel. Theo gave her an upper-floor bedroom suite with a more contemporary design. A wire-brushed white oak platform bed with a headboard and mirror was supposed to add depth to the room, making it appear more prominent, but it just swallowed her when she slept at night. The walls were bathed in pale mocha paint, blond hardwood flooring, and a soft beige carpet with splashes of cream yarn sewn through it. The bedspread coordinated nicely.

She missed her loft bedroom and close quarters. It was her cocoon, and now she felt vulnerable. Five years alone, with just a cat, turns you into a hermit.

Honey, I’m Home

Theo looked back fondly on the early days when he opened the bar. He opened it on a dare with an inheritance from his grandmother, Diane, a.k.a. Dusty Monroe. She grew up down the street from the pier and loved it. Back then, he had a skeleton crew. Five loyal friends wanting more of a dive than a trendy hotspot, Norm tending the bar, Noreen and Celeste working the tables, Keith at the door, and Theo running the show. It’s been almost ten years since then. Now that he had expanded, Theo needed more staff and overhead, but this place was his baby. It’s the place he ran to when his real-life responsibilities got too heavy.

Theo underestimated the crowd tonight, but didn’t regret telling Leigh Anne to go home early. He was used to a big crowd.

Besides, he enjoyed taking care of her. He enjoyed giving her orders and hearing her complaints. The others don’t seem to mind their special dynamic or Theo. He knew she wasn’t as disgusted by him as she let on, and she knew he meant well.

He wished she’d open up more. Holding such a high, heavy brick wall must be exhausting. Theo didn’t get home until 2:00 a.m. Just when he decided to check in on her, he noticed the LED light on the patio. As he softly approached the covered patio that overlooked the Ferris wheel on the pier, he noticed she was still awake. She is reclined on the chaise, Gretel curled up on the corner of the cushion and purring comfortably as she kneads Leigh Anne’s thigh.

Leigh Anne had removed her sling and started to fall asleep under the stairs as her soft music played.

Theo couldn’t help but smile. He debated leaving her there, but the chill in the air wouldn’t have the best effect on her come sunrise. So, as he approached Gretel, the demon cat swatted at him as he scooped Leigh Anne into his arms.

They reached her bedroom door, and Gretel scurried behind, making a beeline to her cat bed under the bay window. It wasn’t until he lay her down, he noticed streaks of saline staining her porcelain skin. She started to fret as he slid his arm from under her head, placing it on her pillow.

“Ethan, please... don’t do this. I love you...”

He froze. It took a lot of strength for him to move to the door, and as he turned the doorknob, she called out in a dreamy, groggy tone. “Theo... are you leaving me too?”

Without turning around, he sighed, and his shoulders sagged. “Not unless you want me to.”

“I-I don’t want y-you t-to.” Her breathing cracked as she sniffled the nightmare down. “Please stay...”

Theo stalked toward the bed, kicking his shoes off. “You have Gretel.”

Leigh Anne couldn’t stifle the giggle as Gretel hissed at being a comfort. “Gretel’s not built for that kind of comfort.”

Gretel was offended but quickly escaped when she realized she wasn’t needed.

They lay in each other’s arms in silence for what felt like an eternity until Theo broke down and gazed into Leigh Anne’s eyes.

The only thing was, she was sleeping, or at least trying to.

“If I open my eyes and catch you staring, I’ll punch you in the balls, kiddo...” Leigh Anne slowly cracked one eyelid open. Sure enough, she caught him and attempted to connect her fist to his nuts, but before she landed, he blocked her. “Damn it, you’re all creepy.”

“I can’t help it. You’re a beautiful sleeper.”

“Wait until you hear me inhale the drapes.”

“Won’t turn me off. I’ve heard you already,” he replied, skimming his finger along her hairline, tucking a loose strand of blonde locks behind her ear.

Theo adjusted his position to be on his side, looking down at her.

“How’s your shoulder?” His left arm rested above her head, and his right rested comfortably across her abdomen. Oddly enough, she let him, even running her fingers down his strong, thick, rippled arm.

Leigh Anne was either exhausted from her day or tired of fighting his advances. She discovered something about Theodore River Collins. She liked how he took care of her. Ethan was the same way in the beginning. Over time, Ethan resented her. The only thing that kept her guard up was her fear. She feared he’d see through her tough exterior and feel betrayed by false advertising.

Leigh Anne briefly took her eyes off her fingers that skimmed over his lightly-haired arm.

“It’s feeling better today.” She bashfully hid her crooked smile.

“Don’t do that,” he tipped her chin up.

“Don’t do what?” Again, her eyes shifted away from him. The only light in the room was from the moon that peeked through the gap in the middle of the blackout curtains.

“Hide your smile. I like it.”

“This crooked thing?” She playfully smacked his arm.

“Yes, that crooked grin that lights up your perfect face.”

“Why does the smallest nonsense conversation we have still infuriate me?”

“I don’t think it infuriates you. I think you can’t handle a compliment. And why must you constantly use self-deprecating humor to make people laugh?”

Leigh Anne turned her head away because she couldn’t allow him to spoon her.

“I guess I’d rather make people laugh at me than make fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” Theo brought her eyes back to his, capturing her pools of blue within his own. “I wish you’d open up to me more. I’d tell you all you could want to know about me... if only you’d share a bit about yourself.”

She wanted to—oh man, did she want to. Leigh Anne didn’t want to be a prisoner of her own heart anymore. She was thirty-five. It was time she left the past behind her. After her divorce, she let nothing and no one get in her way. She stood on her own as she had always done. But now, she wanted to fall into someone else’s arms—someone willing to want to catch her when she fell. She knew that it would never be Ethan again.

“I’m from Connecticut originally.” There, it was like a Band-Aid being ripped off. That was a minor relief, but a relief, nonetheless.

“That wasn’t so hard. I’m from Colorado. Denver, to be exact. Where in Connecticut?” Theo rewarded her with a peck of his lips on the tip of her button nose.

“New Haven. My parents still live there, I believe.”

“You believe? Do you not speak to them?”

She shook her head. “That’s a story for another day.”

He knew not to push. She would share more in her own time. But this was a big step for her; he thought she deserved a reward.

He was dying to taste her lips. “Can I try something, Leigh Anne?”

Her eyes narrowed, unsure where he was going, but he wasn’t disgusted by her yet, running for the hills. So, she heard him out and saw what he wanted.

“Now, I know I’m much younger than you, and you may hate it, but may I kiss you?”

She couldn’t help but find amusement in his request. If anyone should be afraid that others would hate it, it was her.

“I should be afraid of that. You may hate kissing me.”

“Why? You have full, plump lips, and keep reminding me you’re much older than me. Age dictates experience, right?” He found humor in her statement but was also immensely turned on by her ignorance.

“Experience doesn’t always come with age. The only man I’ve ever kissed was...”

“Was... who?”

“My husband. We were high school sweethearts, and since our divorce five years ago...” she trailed off—uh oh, rambling. She did that when she was nervous. But her teeth didn’t have time to chatter because, within seconds, his mouth smashed against hers. Theodore Collins took the literal words right out of her mouth.