Waltz This Way (v1.1) (41 page)

Sitting at the edge of the bed, she gazed up at her husband. His handsome frame still took her breath away. Watching him dress was one of her favorite things to do. “Sherry’s going to be there, too …”

His face hardened momentarily, then eased. “She should be. She’s his mother.”

“She’s been sober five months, that’s longer than any period in her alcoholism. Nate’s so proud.” Inspired by Nate, who’d finally made the choice to not see his mother again until she was sober, Sherry hit rock bottom.

It had been an ugly night in the emergency room for Nate and Drew, when they’d gotten a call five months ago that she’d been in a serious auto accident. With Stan’s help, and his resources, Mel had convinced Drew that Sherry could be helped— if she’d just reach out.

She’d done just that, and now she was in a sober living facility, painting again, happier, and making plans to spend more time with her son.

Stan continued to make gestures, small and large, in order to prove he needed Mel’s forgiveness— like helping talk Sherry into rehab— a facility Stan knew well from the occasional dancer’s bout with addiction. And though she’d told him time and again, it wasn’t necessary, Drew had reminded her that this was Stan’s way of helping all the lives he’d turned upside down, sit right side up again. He was trying to earn her forgiveness, and there was something to be said for the amount of time and effort he was putting into it.

She hadn’t completely forgiven Stan. There were still moments when something reminded her of her old life, the things she’d never experience because she’d been wrapped up in Stan, and they still stung. But lately, she smiled more than frowned when she thought about him. And that was a huge leap from wanting to set him on fire.

Drew finally shot her a smile. “I’m glad for Nate. He deserves the best mother she can be.”

Nate poked his head around the doorway, hands over his eyes.

“Can I come in?”

“Wowww! Somebody looks pretty handsome.” Mel rose on tiptoe and sniffed. “And is that cologne I smell?” She whistled her appreciation.

“Whatever,” he drawled in his usual teenage disinterest. “Hurry it up, Dad. We have to go. Stan and Neil are downstairs with Grandpa Joe, and Grandma, Grandpa, and Aunt Myriam are already there.”

Drew gave Mel a wicked smile. “What’s the rush, pal?”

Nate gave them a dramatic sigh. “You know exactly what the rush is, Dad. I know you know about Mercedes, and do I have to explain the flux of hormones to you again?”

Mel’s snort was a sputter. “Okay, okay. We get it. I don’t need another speech on the species known as teenager. Go get Stan and Neil into the truck. We’ll be right there.” She gave him a peck on his cheek and watched him head down the hallway to the stairs.

She swatted her husband’s gorgeous backside. “You heard him. Hurry it up. Mercedes awaits. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for thwarting young love, would you?”

Throwing on his jacket, he nipped at her lips. “Oh, the horrors.”

Just as Mel rushed to their bedroom doorway, Drew grabbed her hand, dragging her close to him. “Hey, in all the chaos, find the time to save me a dance, would ya?”

She straightened his tie, yanking on it to pull him to her lips. “Did you really just say that to me, Drew McPhee?”

“Nate and I have been practicing at the studio. I think I finally nailed that running finish in the quickstep.”

Yeah. He’d nailed it— when he’d slid into the wall like he was sliding into home plate. “I can’t wait to see.”

“Just do me a favor.”

“Anything,” she cooed up at him, her eyes warm with love.

“Make sure you clear a path. I’m good at the starting. Not so much on the stopping.”

Mel laughed until tears stung her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands, loving that while he continued to be the worst dancer ever, he tried at every given opportunity to learn. “I love you, Drew. Crappy dancing and all.”

“You can tell me all about it tonight when I take those thigh highs off.” He wiggled his dark eyebrows suggestively at her.

Mel threw her leg around his hip. “Promise?” she purred.

He rubbed her chin with his thumb. “That’s a promise, Mrs. McPhee.

A promise she knew—as sure as she knew the steps to a cha-cha— was one he’d keep.

Forever.