His Ever After

Halfway to The Rum House, Belinda eased her foot off the gas. There was an exit a quarter mile up the road. She could take the ramp and get back up on the interstate headed home to the quiet of her apartment. Calling herself ten kinds of fool, she kept driving.

Bobby meant well. The entire group who’d befriended her when she walked into her first day as a professor at her alma mater, meant well. She just wasn’t the birthday party girl. Not anymore.

Hell, she wasn’t a lot of things anymore.

She used to love parties, though, and the small gathering was as close to a party as she’d been to since that night.

As she neared the turn off, she thought again about turning back. It had taken her forty-five minutes to get to her destination, what was another forty-five to get home?

Several blocks from the tavern, Belinda pulled into a parking garage and walked into the lobby of a small, boutique hotel. She’d stayed there twice before. Once alone when she’d come up for a reunion with college girlfriends and another time with her husband, Harry.

She tried to tell herself it was the best possible option if she drank too much, but the truth was that it was familiar, filled with good memories and she needed that this weekend.

She took the steps to the street after picking up her room key.

Years in public life had taught her not to walk alone, day or night, but night in particular. She’d learned over the last few months to be more comfortable on her own again.

If she were honest, years in public life had taught her many things she’d rather forget.

“Stop it,” she muttered. She couldn’t go back in time. She couldn’t change anything. She could only move forward, continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

It was mild out for late spring, but the rain had a way of cooling things off even more. Inside, the pub was warm and raucous. Not that she’d expected any different, especially on a Friday night.

She spotted her small group of friends at a table toward the center of the room. They hadn’t seen her yet and just as she had in the car, she thought about backtracking and heading home.

Indecision weighed heavily, and she was thrilled when her phone buzzed in her pocket giving her another moment to herself. She stepped back into the shadows by the door and looked at the caller ID.

Her heart sped up. Her palms began to sweat. “Son of a —”

“I wouldn’t finish that statement if I were you.”

“Harry,” she breathed.

“You know the rules.”

She clamped her mouth shut. Yes, she knew the rules. He didn’t like it when she cussed. It was a punishable offense. The taste of soap was not her favorite and if she concentrated hard enough, she could recall the texture against her teeth, the way it made her gag, the foam and lather. It made her shudder.

“You can put the phone back in your pocket now. I just needed a way to keep you from meeting your friends for a few minutes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“No, I mean, here. Specifically here. How did you know?”

“Riley.”

Their daughter. “Such a traitor.”

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “She would agree with you.”

“We’re separated.” They were, but they weren’t and Belinda knew that statement wouldn’t hold water.

“Semantics. And not legally. Look at me.”

“Harry…”

“Turn around and look at me, Bella.”

“Please go.”

“No. Would you like to introduce me to your friends?”

“No.”

“Shame. I’ll let that slide for now. Look at me. I won’t say it again.”

Belinda knew better than to disobey him. When his voice took on that lazy Southern drawl. When it was no longer polished and cultivated. When the tone belied the serious undercurrent.

She dropped her phone in her pocket and faced her husband.

He looked good and her belly fluttered to life in a way it hadn’t in way too long.

She’d avoided seeing him on television, in interviews since the scandal. She’d avoided seeing him in newspapers and in magazines. She’d avoided social media like the plague.

But seeing him like this? In person?

Jesus… She’d missed him.

Gray hinted at his temples. Worry lines bracketed his eyes. Frown lines touched at the edges of his lips.

He was as handsome as ever, more so than when she first saw him all those years ago.

The words ‘in love’ didn’t even come close to covering it. The thoughts in her head, the emotions, the sensations rioting throughout her body by him doing nothing more than standing in front of her should be criminal. Harry Walker stole her breath. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

“You cut your hair.”

“Yes.” He preferred it longer, at least to her shoulders. Cutting it was both a refreshing act of rebellion and an easier way to maintain the signs of aging as it began to lose its thickness and body.

“I like it.” He said, lifting a hand as though he planned to touch it, but shoved that hand in his pocket, instead.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you. It’s your birthday.”

“I had one last year, too.”

“Yes. You did. For a few weeks you were completely off the grid. I had no idea how to find you, neither did our kids.”

Belinda fought the guilt that threatened. He was right, but she refused to feel bad about it. She’d needed that time after their very public humiliation back home and the even more humiliating hurt that came up after he’d sent her away.

“This isn’t the place, Harry.”

“No, it isn’t. Shall we?” He indicated the door leading back outside.

“Shall we what?”

“Don’t play that way, Bella. It never suited you. You’re much too smart.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I’m not interested in good or bad ideas. I’m interested in speaking with my wife.”

“Harry…”

“My name on your lips… Mm. Still has the same effect on me that it did the very first time you said it. I’ll give you two choices. One… You can leave with me right now and we can sort this out sooner rather than later. Two… We can join your friends and have a nice time like we used and put off the issues for a few more hours. Either way, Bella, you’re leaving with me tonight and I will be administering your birthday spankings the way I’ve been doing since you turned nineteen.”

She looked at him. “Oh.”

His smile was just shy of indulgent. “Of course, you didn’t receive them last year. That will be remedied.”

She could fight guilt, but she couldn’t fight the heat that crept up her neck or the inevitable blush that flooded her face. “Please don’t,” she said softly.

“Oh, pet,” he said just as soft, with a hint of tenderness. He leaned in close. “We haven’t even started.” He straightened. “Which choice will you make? One or two?”

The inflection in his tone hadn’t changed from conversational, yet intimate. No one would be the wiser if they were overheard. It was one of his hidden talents. He gave nothing away in his words. It was always in his eyes. His stance remained casual, relaxed. But the gray eyes that occasionally scanned the room behind her? They told her everything.

He was impatient, but not angry. Curious, but unwilling to push too hard. He’d wait for her decision and accept whatever it turned out to be.

Truth be told, now that he was in front of her, her interest in the small gathering of colleagues had again waned. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate on having fun or on any of them. Her mental focus would be on Harry. Always on Harry.

“I’ll beg off sitting with them, but we’ll stay, grab a booth and talk a bit. That’s all I’m offering.”

His gaze met hers. He didn’t blink, just stared until she fidgeted from one foot to the other. He smiled at the moment.

Damn him.

“I accept.”

“Good.”

“For now.”

He always had to have the last word. For some reason, she found comfort in the familiarity.

She nodded, understanding there was no use in arguing.

She took off her lightweight jacket under his unwavering scrutiny. She didn’t want to care what he thought when he looked at her, but she did. Did he really like her hair shorter? Did he like the minimal make-up? What about the jeans and boots?

She’d lost a little weight in the beginning but had gained it back along with a bit more as she’d settled into her new, albeit temporary life. Temporary because she knew, she always knew, she’d be with him again.

Did he find that appealing, too? He’d never had anything less than admiration for her curves. Did he still?

How important was any of that to her now? She didn’t want to know.

She hadn’t known how she would feel being near him after so long, but if she looked closely, she’d realize that how she felt was relief… He’d come for her.