He takes two wine glasses down from his cabinet, fills them with wine, and sets them and the bottle onto the counter. “Drink up,” he says. “Let me give Braeden a quick check. I’ll be right back.”
The wine is fragrant and not too sweet, exactly the way I like it. I’m halfway done by the time Calvin returns.
“Is he okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, he’s scrolling on his phone in bed. He desperately needs a therapist. We still have to wait another couple of weeks. Other than that, he’s sad, but I think all in all, he’s going to be fine.”
“And how are you?”
Calvin’s smile is small and tired. “I’m all right. The funeral was rough. Mostly, I’m worried about you.”
My face heats at his concern. “I’m better. It was scary, and I’ve had a couple of moments where I relived it. I only dated Leo for a few weeks, but it feels like an eternity after this weekend.”
“That fucking bastard hasn’t reached out to you, has he?”
I take a sip of wine and give him a brief smile. “Yeah, he’s tried several times, so I ended up blocking him.”
“Good. Have you talked to your friend about it yet?”
“Not yet. Soon. Edmundo’s going to feel terrible, but he needs to know.” I chuckle humorlessly. “I guess this will be a learning lesson not to set people up on dates.”
Calvin raises his glass and takes a sip. “Cheers to fucking that.”
We grow quiet, and I stare at the stone countertop, not knowing what else to say. I’m still rattled, but I also feel like I’m burdening Calvin. He’s got enough on his plate. Part of me wants to go home and give him space. The other part wants to hold on to him again.
When my eyes land on his, those olive-green orbs watch me closely. He looks at ease, relaxed, sitting on his barstool with his fingers playing with the stem of his glass.
“What?” I ask.
He leans forward and reaches for me. Those long fingers gently touch the bruises on my throat. My body tingles, and I break out in goosebumps, but for some reason, it makes my eyeswater. Jesus, I need to get my act together, especially before my kids return to me. I need to be strong for them.
I can’t take my eyes off Calvin as he keeps touching me. When I swallow, he watches the movement.
His thumb brushes against my skin, but then he abruptly coughs and drops his hand. He lifts his glass, chugs the wine, and sets his glass down. I watch him meander over to his living room, where he squats and fingers through his vinyl collection. Finding what he wants, he stands, places the record on the turntable, and turns it on.
A second later, the silence is filled with Frank Sinatra’s warm and velvety baritone as he sings ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’
Strangely, Calvin’s liking this type of music makes perfect sense. I can’t pinpoint why. It just does. He seems more of a Dean Martin type with the sass in his singing, but Frank works, too.
I smile when he places a hand on his stomach with his other arm raised, and does a little spin, swaying his hips as he goes, like he’s dancing with a ghost. He looks like a dork while looking so sexy. I have no idea how he pulls that off. I shouldn’t think about those things after everything. I feel like I’m not allowed to be turned on or attracted to another man, currently, but I can’t help it, yet I instantly feel better.
Calvin keeps dancing before he wiggles a finger my way, beckoning me to dance with him. He’s good at it. He has rhythm like he’s been dancing for his entire life.
I shake my head because my mind says no, I don’t want to dance, but I stand and amble his way because my body says yes.
He holds out his hand to me, and I rest my palm in his. His fingers curl around my hand, and his free hand wraps around my back, pulling me closer to him. I rest my other hand on his shoulder, and we begin to sway in circles.
“You’re a good dancer,” I tell him.
He gives me his signature smirk and winks. “I know.”
I shake my head and smile back. Before, his response would’ve annoyed me. Now that I know him better, I realize he’s hardly ever serious.
“Grant and I took some classes. He wanted to learn ballroom dancing, so I joined him.”
Calvin does a quick spin and dips me. My heart catches, not expecting the move. Right when I feel like I’m about to fall, he lifts me, and we resume our circular dancing.
“It wasn’t until much later that I found out he’d been sleeping with our instructor.”
