Page 10 of Always Been Mine

“I’ve never seen you this way, Beatrice.” Doug’s eyes flashed angrily. “Whatever happened broke you. I don’t like it.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Maybe tonight was the closure I needed.”

Doug looked at her dubiously. “He doesn’t seem like a guy who’d give up easy.”

Her heart pinched. “Wrong, Doug. He gave me up easily once before.”

When he kinda promised her an eternity.

She remembered that night, three days before he had left her.

Beatrice liked clubbing; Gabe did not.

They had gone out to dinner, and then at her insistence, to a dance club afterward.

Beatrice had to drag his ass out of the chair more than once to dance with her.

Even then, he was as stiff as a board and clearly uncomfortable.

Fed up, she called it a night and decided to go home.

“You need to loosen up, Gabe,” Beatrice groused on their way back to her row house.

“I told you when we got together I’m not dancing.”

“I know, but I thought that was just macho-man speak.”

Gabe shot her an annoyed look, but didn’t say anything.

She remained quiet on the way home and heard Gabe exhale a resigned breath.

When they entered the house, he gripped her hand and led her to the study.

“What’re you up to, Gabe?”

He grinned and shushed her. Letting go of her hand, he walked to the antique cabinet that held a vintage turntable and old records.

“Can’t let your mom’s collection go to waste,” Gabe said, rummaging through the records. He picked one and loaded it on the sound player.

Strains of Etta James’s “At Last” filled the study.

Beatrice started shaking her head. A silly grin formed on her lips as her frustration with Gabe melted away. He opened the French doors that led to the patio.

“Shall we?” He held out his hand.

“Gabe, you don’t have to.” For some strange reason, a lump formed in her throat.

Their hands linked, Gabe pulled her close and whispered, “Anything for you, poppy.”

They slow-danced on the stone patio to the tune of Etta James’s haunting voice, her head on Gabe’s chest, his chin against her temple. When the music ended, she looked up at him and asked, “Why do you call me poppy? Is it because of my hair?”

Gabe nodded. “Yes. Also, in some cultures, the poppy is a symbol of eternal love.”

His eyes were intense as they stared into hers. Unable to speak, shehid her face on his chest, contemplating what he just revealed. They swayed together in silence.

Eternal love, Beatrice fumed as she snapped back to the present.

Fool me once, Gabe. Only once.

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