Page 40 of The Cowboy Who Stayed

How any desire has been stripped away, almost like old times.

I’m back to battling cancer, in the throes of chemotherapy.

No desire and no sex drive and a husband that’s decided he won’t stick by my side.

“You alright?” Rhett asks. He’s noticed my lack of response and has cupped my face, courting my gaze up to his. “You seem distracted.”

“I guess I am. Just… you know, everything unexpected about tonight.”

“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?”

“I never said I did. He left me, Rhett.”

“Then I’m not sure I understand what’s rattled you,” he confesses. “I don’t know the guy, but if he decided he didn’t want to be with you anymore… then he’s an idiot.”

“It’s not that simple. We were married for almost two decades.”

“What’s not simple about it, doc? He fumbled an amazing woman. But his loss is my gain.”

I step back slightly with a shake of my head. “We’ve been over this, Rhett. I’m not trying to wind up sidetracked by a relationship. I’m not even sure if I’m ready for one… or ever will be again.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? We agreed we wouldn’t focus on labels. You’re a free woman. Which means you’re free to let me take you to dinner, and dance like this.”

It’s impossible not to release a small laugh as Rhett guides me back into a slow, swaying two-step. He then gives me another spin and pulls me close, as if about to kiss me again.

“Just because we don’t have a title doesn’t mean it’s not a net positive for me, Vivica,” he goes on, peering fondly down at me. “Being in your presence alone counts.”

I’m the one who initiates this time.

My hand slides into his hair, and I press a kiss to his lips. It’s sweet and short but full of affection.

“You’re a great guy, Rhett Dawson. How the other twenty-six-year-olds aren’t trying to snatch you up baffles me.”

“A twenty-six-year-old woman? Seems a little young for me. I’ve always liked a woman a little more experienced.”

I roll my eyes, unable to keep from smiling.

We wind up calling it, heading to the bedroom to turn in for the night. But as warm and affectionate as we’ve been, it doesn’t mean the night’s been saved.

That I’m still not a little frazzled by Craig.

Rhett’s correct that I shouldn’t feel guilty or wrong in any way, shape, or form.

Craig wanted a divorce, and I gave it to him. I’ve worked hard to move past the dissolution of my marriage and to get myself healthy—physically, mentally, emotionally.

But as we peel back the covers from the bed and climb in, I’m aware it’s more complicated than that. Craig spoke to me tonight as if he never fell out of love with me.

…as if we never divorced.

He looked at me like I was still the woman he was loyal to and wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

I’ve spent countless hours from the moment he told me our marriage was over grieving the death of it. Learning how to move on and get over him.

I thought I was. So over him I never wanted another relationship again.

As we switch off the light and darkness engulfs the room, I’m questioning if I’ve got it wrong. If my decision to never have another relationship was actually because my heart was still broken.

Not because it was healed.