Page 48 of Letting Go at 40

“Actually, Ben and I never danced in the kitchen.” Or late at night. Or at all. My voice is quiet with the admission. Why didn’t Ben and I ever dance in the kitchen? I’ve heard of romantic moments like this, seen them in movies, too, but I had no experience with an impromptu moment of swaying without music.

Tonight’s rhythm was only heartbeats and the meter of two people attracted to one another.

Two people who shouldn’t be attracted to one another.

“Anna,” he whispers, holding my eyes with his. A thousand questions fill my name.

“You should probably leave.” The words are hardly more than a whisper. I want his next line to ask me if he can stay, but how would I answer him?

I wasn’t ready to admit the truth.

“Thanks for the wine.” His gratitude is louder. His tone a bit harder.

“Thank you for the dance.” I meet his eyes. The shade is one I once considered wrong, but now see the coloring is just different.

Because Mason is so much more than who I thought he was.

Chapter 18

2 Years Ago

May

Birthdays

[Anna]

“Happy almost birthday, beautiful,” Mason says into the phone, his voice chipper.

“Thanks. I think.” I’ll be forty-two in a matter of hours and where I am is not where I thought I’d be. Instead, I just feel older, worn down by the day to day of life. Kids. Work. Bills.

Calvin will start college in the fall. Thankfully, we had a college plan in place for him. Besides a small life insurance policy, I receive a dividend from Ben’s initial investment in Four Points, which is generous but feels wrong at times as he isn’t here, contributing to the overall company. Zack has assured me it’s very fair and completely legal that I receive a payout.

Still, the house is a lot with taxes and upkeep. I wish Archer were present. I received a message from him last year that he’d be home in the summer. The timeframe could be any month this coming season. Or next year. Or maybe he meant last summer. I just don’t have a clue where my brother is or where he’s been, and I am still angry that Autumn had a way to contact him.

Anger described me best on my birthday.

“What will you do to celebrate?”

Being that tomorrow is a Tuesday night, I won’t exactly go out and tear up the town. “Oh, you know. Just another frozen pizza and a glass of wine.” The kids have practices—softball for Mila, baseball for the boys. No one will be home during the dinner hour.

“Yikes. That’s . . . depressing,” Mason teases.

“Tell me about it,” I mumble as I lean back on the headboard in my bedroom. Reading was on my list of nightly activities, but even that felt depressing. I didn’t want to read about fictional love lives and people getting it on.

“What would you have done in the past?”

He means with Ben. “Probably dinner. Maybe a movie. Come home and have sex.” The final activity simply slips out.

“If you could do anything for your birthday this year, what would it be?” Mason asks as if I hadn’t just exposed myself.

I sigh and close my eyes, pushing out of my head the impossible. “It doesn’t feel right celebrating.”

“Anna,” Mason chastises. “You’re allowed to live.”

Silence falls between us, heavy and thick. He clears his throat eventually. “So, dinner?”

“Lou Malnetti’s pizza.”