Page 7 of Even After This
His dark eyes light up in what appears to be recognition. “Prissy? Prissy Prestidge?”
I smile my affirmation. Can there be another person in the world named Prissy Prestidge?
We continue to sway to the music in Harlan’s head. That is to say, I’m clueless when each movement will happen. But we’re dancing without violence, which I count as a victory.
“How do you know Prissy?” I ask.
His shoes scuff the edges of mine. “I grew up outside of Colorado Springs. Prissy’s one of my mom’s best friends. You’re in good hands. She’s a legend in the real estate world.”
Harlan continues to drop breadcrumb details of his life. But I don’t know if they lead to a safe home or to a mean lady who wants to eat me alive.
He uses gentle pressure on my waist to guide me sideways in a motion resembling quintessential awkward junior high dance moves. “Why are you looking for property here?”
What I want to say is I fell in love with this place the first time my husband and I visited. But what’s the protocol for talking about your dead spouse to someone you’re dancing with? “I guess I thought it would be a good place to start.”
Harlan stills our movement, pulls back, and stares down at me. “A good place to start what?”
“I don’t know, exactly. Start over.” Shifting my gaze to his shoulder, I swallow. In the safe corner of a small dance floor in the heart of Colorado, I ask a complete stranger, “Do you ever wonder if there might be more to your life? A purpose? Something you’re missing, but it might be obtainable if you search hard enough?”
The squeeze he gives my waist feels like a reflex. “Most days.”
His gravelly words draw my eyes to his, and I search the face of the man in front of me. “Charlie mentioned he’s glad you’re back,” I say. “What did he mean?”
“I guess I got a little off course.”
His words don’t make sense to me. “You saved someone’s life. You couldn’t be that far off course.”
In spite of our close proximity, the shadow in his eyes makes him look far away. He clenches his jaw. “I guess being a hometown hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. We can get a little off course too.”
I tip my head. “Is that what you’re doing now? Getting your life back on track?”
He takes a sidelong glance across the room. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess it is.”
His confession moves something inside me, but I don’t have time to reply because he schools his face into a charming smile. “But for now, I need an outlet to show off my mad dancing skills.” With dramatic flair, he swoops us back to the center of the dance floor to finish the waiting waltz.
We dive back into the anti-Fred-and-Ginger show, concentration imperative so as not to send anyone around us to the emergency room.
Once the song ends, Harlan takes my hand and leads me to my table.
I might be wrong, but I think I detect a collective sigh of relief from the other dancers when we exit the dance floor.
As I scoot into my booth, the adrenaline rush from the precarious waltz drains from my body, and I’m stumped as to what to say to this man who stands before me, larger than life.
“Thank you for the dance, Meredith.” Harlan bows his head, his glittering eyes never leaving my gaze. “Maybe I’ll see you around the hotel this weekend. But if not, enjoy your time in Colorado. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
He turns to leave before I can respond with anything resembling the English language.
Trying to process the wide pendulum swing of the last thirty minutes, I bring the edge of my glass to my lips. A shocking thought occurs to me, and I almost spill the drink.
The most surprising detail of the evening isn’t the botched dinner reservation, my sister’s scheme, or the handsome man with two left feet and a broken metronome in his head. No, the most surprising part of the evening is, by far, my desire to know what it is Harlan Holcombe is looking for.
Or maybewhoit is Harlan Holcombe is looking for.
It’s unexpected and uncomfortable to be drawn to someone for the first time in four years.
But not altogether unwelcome.
A one-hour time change from Dallas, a five-course meal, and two life-threatening dances have zapped me of all energy. I enter my room hoping to drop into bed as soon as possible, but my phone buzzes with a text.
