Wasn’t that the question of the hour? That was exactly why he’d sent Jane away, so he could figure out just what the hell he wanted. And, more important, how he could have it.
And now, standing here with Adele, he realized that it wasn’t fucked up that he wanted. Needed, yes. Craved, absolutely. And maybe they’d have to go there if they were ever going to get clear of all the emotional shit that surrounded them.
But what he wanted went deeper. What he wanted was normal, pure and simple. Dinner. A movie. Dancing and hand-holding. Something to ground them, to hold them steady and prop them up when he and Jane inevitably careened toward the precipice. Something solid to pull them back if they went over.
But he didn’t tell Adele any of that. Instead, he nodded toward the front of the house. “I think I want to walk you to your car.”
He headed that way and she fell in step beside him. “So we’ll see both of you next week?” Adele said. “Jane agreed to come to dinner?”
“She did.”
“Lovely.” Her smile was overly bright. “I look forward to seeing the two of you together. It’s so much fun watching a man with blue balls.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a raving bitch, Adele?”
She laughed. “All the time.”
They’d reached her car, and she pulled her keys out of her bag. She was heading toward the driver’s door when Dallas reached out and caught her elbow. “Quick question. Who was Colin with between my mother and you?”
Lisa had divorced Colin when he and Jane were little kids. And Colin had married Adele when Dallas was in college. If it turned out that Colin was the Jailer, then somewhere in that gap, he met the Woman. And it was just possible that Adele had heard her name.
“What on earth makes you ask that?”
And wasn’t that a damn good question? “I was thinking about my mom. You two are so different. I was wondering if there was a progression or if Colin just went from Georgia belle to European vixen.”
“Vixen? Well, aren’t you sweet.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Honestly, I have no idea about his other women.” She seemed entirely uninterested. “I suppose you could ask him at dinner.”
“Maybe I will,” he said as Adele got in her car, even though he knew full well he wouldn’t. But he did have another idea, and as soon as he had the chance, he’d give his mom a call. With any luck, Lisa had kept an eye on Colin after the divorce.
With even more luck, she’d lead Dallas straight to the Woman.
He turned to head back toward the beach, then stopped cold, realizing the import of his words. Somewhere along the way, his thinking had shifted. He was truly seeing Colin as guilty now. As one half of a team.
The possibility made him queasy, not just because Colin had become a friend. But because he knew that if he was right, he’d end up putting a bullet through the head of the man that Jane once called Daddy.
Reality Bites
Despite the fact that I’ve parked myself in front of my computer, I am completely incapable of getting any work done.
I tell myself that I understand why Dallas wanted me to go. It isn’t my fault—not really. It’s not that I pushed too hard. Instead, it’s that he needs space to get his head around everything he’s feeling. To battle with everything he is fighting.
I tell myself all that, and maybe I even believe it. But that doesn’t soothe my hurt. For seventeen years we’d separately battled our past, and I’d let myself believe that we’d conquered the hard part. That we were together now, and whatever came next we would face as a couple, holding tight to each other and sharing our strength.
I was wrong. I didn’t really know what the hard part was. Not for Dallas, anyway. And now I’m here and Dallas is there, and I’m going crazy wondering what he’s doing, what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.
I sigh, wishing I could turn off my churning thoughts. I’d arrived back at my townhouse over an hour ago, and I’d thought that diving back into work would help, but clearly I’m insane. The scene on my computer screen is intense and full of action, and I think it’s one of the best scenes in the screenplay. It’s unfinished, however. All that drama and angst and roiling emotions coming to a dead stop because I don’t know what to do next.
Honestly, it’s a metaphor for my life.
I push back from the kitchen table where I’ve set up my laptop, and for what must be the hundredth time that morning, I pour myself another cup of coffee and start to pace the kitchen, back and forth in front of the table.
I’m antsy and out of sorts, and all I want is for things to be right between me and Dallas. I’d thought we were moving in that direction—hell, I’d thought we’d arrived—but then he’d sideswiped me, and now I feel as if he’d physically knocked me off the planet and I’m tumbling wild and out of control and off into space.
Out of control.