“Excuse me?” Michelle says, stepping close enough to my side so that our bodies touch. I take the opportunity to wrap my free arm around her waist.
“Putting on such a display in public. And with this man. What would Stuart say?”
“Are you…” Michelle sputters. “Are you serious?”
“Quite serious. What’s happened to you?” She looks at Michelle as if she’s a despicable person.
“What’s happened to me? What happened is I’m learning to live my life again.”
“And this is how you honor Stuart’s memory?” She begins waving her hand toward me which brings even more attention to her, suddenly uncaring whether this encounter becomes a spectacle. “By cavorting with, with a—”
“Priscilla,” Henrik says in warning.
She rounds on the man who I assume is her husband. “What? She’s practically making out in public with a man who looks like a bum!”
“That’s enough!” Michelle says briskly, causing eyes to snap on her. “You don’t even know this man, whose name happens to be Xander. He’s a friend, and not that it’s any of your business, but yes, he’s also my lover.” Priscilla gasps but Michelle charges forward. “I’m not ashamed of that or of him because he’s a wonderful man. As for Stuart, my husband is gone, Priscilla. Gone. And while I had a great marriage, I think Stuart would’ve wanted me to be happy. I’d want the same for him. It’s taken me until now—nearly sixteen months after his death—to have any sort of attraction to another man. So don’t you dare stand there and speak about honoring Stuart’s memory. You knew nothing of our relationship beyond what you saw with our appearances at the club. I don’t have to justify my life to anyone other than myself, and certainly not to you. So, you can take your high-and-mighty attitude and stuff it up that tight ass of yours.”
Priscilla gapes like a starving fish while her husband narrows his eyes.
“That was certainly uncalled for,” Henrik says.
“Oh, believe me, it wasn’t,” Michelle counters. “There’s plenty more I could say, but unlike your wife, I’m actually a nice person.” She turns to me, the silent behemoth, and grasps my hand. “I think it’s time to get some fresh air. It’s rather stuffy in here.”
Michelle and I walk to the exit as every other patron in the shop follows our movement. Another couple actually applauds as we pass them. Michelle simply nods while giving a tentative smile. Once we make it outside, she hurries down the street, forgetting all about her ice cream as it drips down her hand.
Chapter Eight
Michelle
“Hey now, whoa up,” Xander says, pulling my hand so I have no choice but to stop. I whirl around, my temper still flaring. But not for him. Not for this remarkable man. I close my eyes, displacing the welling tears. I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself as he relieves me of the dripping cone and wipes my face with a napkin.
“Open your eyes, beautiful,” he says softly.
When I do, Xander has bent down to meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” I manage.
He shakes his head while leading me into the storefront where we stopped. Without so much as a word to anyone, he marches us to the back and takes me into the ladies’ restroom, locking the door behind him.
“Xander, we can’t—”
“Yes, we can. Now come here.”
He guides me to the sink where he proceeds to push my clutch up my arm before washing our hands. He then grabs paper towels to dry. After throwing the towels in the trash, he turns to me, cupping my face.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. And you sure as hell didn’t embarrass me. Those uptight asshats should be embarrassed about their actions and what that woman said to you. Who the hell are they, anyway?”
“Acquaintances. Henrik is a surgeon and a colleague of Stuart’s. Well, they were, you know, they worked together.” I shake my head and Xander’s hands fall to clasp mine. “I never had a problem with him. In all our social events, he was rather quiet, spoke only when he absolutely had to. Priscilla, on the other hand had to comment on any topic being discussed. I never cared for her.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” he quips, making me smile.
“I still can’t believe what she said.”
He caresses my cheek with his knuckles. “Forget them. You said everything that needed saying and you don’t answer to them. You answer to you.” I absently nod, still trying to process the incident. “You ready to get outta here? We’ll find another ice cream shop and—”
“No, I’ve lost my mood for ice cream.”
“What?” He rears back, feigning shock.
