Page 6 of His Cowboy Heart

“Don’t be late to the party,” she said. “I want you by my side all night. I want everyone to know you belong to me.”

She kissed me hard. I wanted to respond but there was something about her kiss that made me feel cornered. She was demanding, hot as hell and I enjoyed the way we fucked, but there were moments when I didn’t feel at ease. There were moments where I felt I was playing a part.

“Bye babe,” I said. “Love you.”

If I was playing a part, at least I knew my lines.

I grabbed a coffee to go in the kitchen and headed down the elevator.

“Mr. Van Rossum.” Felix, the doorman opened the door. “Your mother called. She wanted me to remind you that she’ll send a car for you . . .”

I walked past him. “Tell Marjorie I’ll be on time to her party and I’ll get myself there.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And thanks for the message,” I said, hoping my tone hadn’t been too biting. Felix was just the messenger. It wasn’t his fault my mother was a controlling bitch who made me feel like a marionette.

I walked down the street as the sun rose over Manhattan. My coffee cup in hand I refused to let my fight with Abigail the night before or my mother’s meddlesome nature put a damper on my mood.

I had just watched a beautiful woman come. She loved me. She’d agreed to be my wife.

Pull your head out of your ass, you have no real problems,I reminded myself.

Tonight was the engagement party. Up until today, my engagement to Abigail had felt private and tonight we were going wide. Mother was hosting. All of her friends would be there and some of mine.

From the moment I proposed to Abigail, I had this feeling that the wedding had become something larger than the two of us. I tried to tell myself it was okay.

Abigail didn’t seem concerned. In fact, she reveled in the attention. I wished we could just escape all of the flowers and toasts and find a chapel somewhere for just the two of us.

Or maybe a courthouse like before.

I froze on the sidewalk.

Shea was supposed to meet me at the courthouse.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and took out my wallet. I’m not even sure I knew what I was doing until I held her crumpled note in my hand.

I stood on the corner of 6th and 57th as the street light changed. Swarms of people passed me as I read Shea’s note one more time.

Troy,

I’m sorry I can’t bear to do this in person, but it’s over. I can’t marry you. It would destroy my family, destroy our lives. I have made my decision and I need you to let me go. Please don’t contact me. I know this is difficult but some things are for the best.

1+2+3—Shea

There was no real explanation but there was also no question about the finality of her message. It was over.

For ten years I had kept this note with me every day. I’d read it more times than I could remember, but I hadn’t pulled it out of my wallet in years. When I proposed to Abigail, I’d told myself it was time to throw Shea’s note away but I hadn’t, at least not yet.

Standing on that corner Shea’s words looked sharp to me. The pain had dulled over the years but it was still there, a cold ache of rejection, the pain of having your beloved say no.

I folded the note and put it back in my wallet. I took a breath and looked skyward before I headed to the subway. Ten years and nothing had changed. I kept the note to remind myself how easy it was to lose what you love in life. I kept the note to remind myself not to take true love for granted.

So, I’d had a dream last night, so what? It was the pressure of the engagement, a totally natural reaction to the fact that my life was changing. I needed to let go of the foolish young man who had wanted to be a cowboy. That dream had died.

Shea was my past. Abigail was my present and future. She loved me and tonight I would stand proudly by her side as her fiancé.

“Van Rossum,” Miguel said. He fell into line beside me at the office kitchen, a coffee cup raised to his lips. “The partners are all over this new project in Eastern Washington. You heard about it?”

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