Carson gently grasps my shoulders to steady me. “Austin,” he whispers breathlessly before audibly swallowing, making his Adam’s apple bob in the most shockingly erotic way. “What are you doing here?”
I stare up into his ocean eyes and get lost for a moment.
“Dakota? What happened?” Aaron asks, and I’ve got to give him credit, he even sounds genuinely concerned. Carson’s hands drop to his sides instantly.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.
“Excuse me, I’m such a clutz.” Taking a step back, I try to sound lighthearted despite the panic that’s causing my pulse to beat at a thunderous rate. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” I say, holding my hand out to Carson. “I’m Dakota, and this is my husband, Aaron Ackerman.”
Carson stares back at me with a puzzled expression that he quickly schools. He must sense my need for him to play along. The moment his hand connects with mine, the feeling of warmth I get any time he touches me floods my system. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman. I’m Carson Wilder.” Hearing him greet me as Mrs. Ackerman sounds like nails on a chalkboard. It sounds all wrong coming from his lips.
“Ah, right. You’re Theodore and Elizabeth’s son.” Who? Oh, right. I’ve come to know them as Liz and Teddy, or Gaga and Papa, as McKenna calls them around Cadence.
“The one and only,” Carson replies, holding his hand out for Aaron to shake. I don’t miss the clench of his clean-shaven jaw.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you please find your assigned seats. The dinner service will begin shortly,” the emcee for the evening announces. With that, Aaron drags me toward our table, which is, thankfully, a few tables away from Carson’s.
But that doesn’t stop his gaze from being fixed on me anytime I look up during dinner. Each time my eyes connect with his, he looks a little more vexed. His posture is rigid, jaw clenched, and his eyes discerning the truth behind my shriveling front.
The bar and another associate kept Aaron occupied for a good portion of the evening, giving me a reprieve from his suffocating presence. He just came to tell me he’d been asked to have a cigar with some of the partners. I’m hoping that will keep him occupied until he’s ready to leave.
I’m just about to make an escape to hide away in the restroom when an outstretched hand appears before me.
“May I have this dance, Austin?” Carson literally bows down before me with his hand still outstretched. The sincerity in the question shining in his ocean eyes when he lifts his head has me throwing all of my good sense out the window.
His gaze is so intense that I’m left speechless. He must take my silence as reluctance.
Still unable to form any words, I place my hand in his outstretched one and nod. Nerves fill my belly as he guides us out onto the dance floor.
The opening notes of Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight” begin to play as Carson spins me toward him. He places one hand on the small of my back, his other holding mine, and we start to sway to the classic melody.
Even with my four-inch heels, Carson still towers over me. He brings his head down, and for one foolish, reckless moment, I wonder if he will kiss me. Instead, he brings his lips to my ear and softly says, “You look absolutely stunning, Dakota. The shade of your dress makes your emerald eyes even more captivating. I didn’t think that was possible, yet here you are, looking like a true vision.”
What a stark difference his compliment about my appearance is from what Aaron told me before we left. Carson’s tone is full of wonderment. As they seem to always do in his presence, my cheeks burn under his attention.
“I promise I don’t mean any disrespect when I ask this, but I have to know. Are you happy with him?” As the question leaves his lips, Carson pulls back and stares so deeply into my eyes I fear he knows the answer without me having to say a thing.
Clearing the tightness from my throat, I reply, “I assure you, Carson, my happiness isn’t anything you need to worry about. Happiness is a fleeting emotion. It comes and goes. It changes meaning based on the circumstance.”
He sees right through me. And his next words only prove that. “Why do I get the sense that you’re avoiding answering my question because you know the truth will set you free?”
If only answering him truthfully could really set me free from the shackles my marriage has imprisoned me with.
The hope shining in Carson’s eyes scares me. What is his motive? Why does he want to know?
I don’t like the way he pulls reluctant smiles from me. I don’t like the way my heart races when he’s near. I don’t like the way I’ve started looking forward to seeing him while I’m at work. And I don’t like the look of yearning in his eyes I see right now. I need to put an end to this.
“Not all of us have lived such a privileged life as you, Golden Boy. Some of us can’t be set free by merely answering a prying question.”
Carson rears back as if he’s been struck. Sadness etches his features, and I curse myself for causing this man an ounce of pain.
I need to get out of here. Knowing what’s done is done, I don’t bother with an apology. Instead, I run out of the ballroom. As far away from Carson Wilder as I can get.
8
January
It’s after one in the morning on New Year’s when my doorbell rings for the second time. I roll myself out of bed and throw on a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt before heading down the stairs.
