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And if Ali was being honest, even though she had thought she was craving it weeks ago, she wasn’t so sure she had been ready after all.
“I guess I realized I can’t be with him like that with a cloud over us,”she told Linda, smoothing down her trousers.
“What’s the cloud, Ali?” Linda asked. “Vulnerability?”
Ali sighed. “No. I don’t think I can get much more vulnerable with him.” She paused. “Graham. Graham is the cloud. He has no place between us.”
Linda sat back in her chair. “When a person in a relationship is sexually assaulted, it can be like bringing an uninvited third party to the table.”
“How do I kick him out?”
“You can’t. And you can’t ignore him either, or you’ll be back to square one. But you can acknowledge him and talk louder. Together.”
It was growing increasingly more difficult to stay silent when Ali’s body had begun to develop a mind of its own. She caught herself sneaking a peek here and there while Cornell dressed, pressing herself a little closer to him while they lay in bed, wondering when he might initiate it. Because Ali couldn’t be the one to do so again.
Even though Cornell’s rejection wasn’t an actual rejection, it was hard to convince her mind what her heart already knew to be true. Cornell loved her endlessly and fiercely in a way that meant so much more than everything that brought them together in the first place.
Cornell’s hand slid from her waist and gave her ass a squeeze. “You just haven’t been paying attention.”
Ali leaned into him as they walked to the building. “But seriously, what are we doing here?”
“You want to move your body, so let’s make some good memories doing it,” Cornell said, opening the door for her. “Aren’t you going to laugh at me when I get stuck halfway up and am too scared to keep going or come down?”
She gasped. “I would never.”
“Well then, consider it fun for you and therapy for me. Two birds, one stone.”
“Therapy for you?”
“Today’s a day for facing my fears,” he told Ali, reaching for her hand. “You shouldn’t be the only one putting in the hard work.”
* * *
“Ali, there might be traffic, it’s Saturday,” Cornell called from the living room.
“Just a second!”
She grabbed the lipstick from her dresser and looked in the mirror. A gala certainly called for the whole nine yards—which she had nearly done with the eye makeup and updo that took eighteen views of a YouTube tutorial and far too many bobby pins. But Ali never liked the feel of lipstick. She reached for the lip balm instead. Why start now?
“I’m coming,” she said, nearly tripping on the rug in the hallway. The strapless gown she ordered had arrived two days ago, not leaving enough time to get it hemmed, so she also had to buy a pair of far-too-high heels to keep the beautiful navy blue velvet from dragging on the ground.
Cornell was sitting on the couch, watching TV. His eyes drifted to her, back to the TV, and then immediately back to her, widening.
Ali went to the table in the entry, taking out her ID and cash from her wallet. “What?”
“Have you been hiding that from me this whole time?”
“I was saving it for one of your playoff games,” Ali quipped, turning to face him with a smile. Cornell stood and stepped around the couch. His hands went into the pockets of the black, slim-fit tuxedo, and Ali let out a small gasp. “You look so handsome.”
Every now and then, Ali would get a glimpse of Cornell outside of his normal uniform—joggers and sneakers—but seeing him in a tuxedo, complete with bow tie, took her breath away. What is it about a man in a well-tailored suit?
Cornell let out a nervous laugh, his arm raising to scratch his head. The jacket and shirt pulled back, and Ali caught a glimpse of the edge of his tattooed sleeve, and she bit her lip, thankful she made the choice to ditch the lipstick that she already would have gotten on her teeth before they left the house.
She redacted her thought. What is it about tattooed guys in well-tailored suits?
They stood feet apart, drinking each other in, and Ali felt silly that Cornell looking at her—like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—made her cheeks flush.
“I feel like we’re going to prom,” she laughed awkwardly, not telling him it was less about the tux and the gown and more to do with the many teenage-like hormones rushing through her body.
