“Trust me.” He leaned close to her. “I’m a big boy.”
“I know you are. But who is she to you? That’s all we really want to know.”
If he knew, he’d probably tell her. At the moment, he didn’t know who Cheyenne was to him. He knew what the paper said. He knew the plan, but somehow it had changed.
Reese reached, touched the door and turned toward his sister. “I can take it from here.”
“Reese, we’re trying to...”
“I’m good.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Heather didn’t follow him. He smiled, because he knew he could count on her. She’d give him time. She’d wait for him. He took cautious steps forward, the cane swinging right to left. It hit a chair. He stopped to listen.
Then he heard a thump against the back wall.
“Cheyenne?” He took more careful steps.
Silence—and then the hammering he’d heard from across the street. It echoed inside the building. At the back of the room he heard footsteps. He smiled and laughed a little.
“I know it’s you.”
“Okay, it’s me.” The voice, soft and tremulous, drew closer. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. Funny thing, my family all seemed to know you were here. I’m the only one in the dark, so to speak.” He smiled and reached, finding a chair. He sat down. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit.”
“Go right ahead.”
“You’re still in town.” He folded the cane. “I thought you left.”
“I thought I would leave, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was sitting on the bench out front when your grandmother found me.”
“Be very careful of my grandmother. She loves matchmaking. It’s her gift.” He smiled and turned, trying to find her. She had moved. He heard soft footsteps getting closer.
“I’m not here to be matched to anyone. I’m here because I needed to know that you’re okay.”
“There’s more. I can hear it in your voice.”
“That’s your imagination.” She sat down next to him, lavender and vanilla. He leaned a little toward her because he couldn’t see her and he wanted some connection with her, some way to know she was there.
“No, it isn’t my imagination. I’m very good at voices. It’s because I can’t see. They say it enhances the other senses.”
“Really, and what does my voice tell you?”
“I hear strain. And you hesitate each time you tell me you’re fine. See. I’m very perceptive.”
“I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just don’t want you to think that I came here expecting more from you than you’ve already given me.”
“I want to help if I can.” He reached for her hand.
“You’ve helped so much, Reese.” She squeezed his hand. “You don’t owe me anything else.”
He stood because she had. “I have to disagree, Cheyenne. I think I owe you for better or worse, in sickness and in health.”
“Those are vows for real couples who have real weddings. That isn’t your promise to me. Your promise to me was your last name and life insurance if something happened to you. Because of you I have insurance and I had money for school.”
“What do you know? Something did happen to me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, and he felt like the creep Heather sometimes said he’d become. “I’m sorry that something horrible happened to you. But I’m going to have a baby. I don’t have a family I can turn to. And I want to stay here.”
“Cheyenne, you don’t have to leave.” He reached, found her hand and pulled her close, but she wouldn’t step into his arms.
“I have to make a life for myself and my son. I want to be somewhere safe. I want a community. A neighborhood where kids play and ride bikes.”
“You’ll do great here.” He backed up a step and put the distance between them she seemed to want—
distance he probably needed. “Do you need anything?”
“No, nothing. I’m good.”
“If you do need help, let me know.”
“I’ll let you know.” She walked him to the door. “Reese, I can be here for you, too. If you need anything at all. Even if it’s just a friend.”
“Thank you.” He shrugged as he reached for the door. “I’m still trying to figure out how to take care of myself.”
“You’re doing better than you think.”
He smiled at her optimism. “That’s good to know.”
“Reese, about the annulment. We should get that taken care of.”
“Soon.”
As he walked out the door, Heather waited for him. He heard her move, felt her hand on his arm. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, thanks for waiting.”
“Watch out. This sidewalk is pretty broken up in places.” She placed his hand on her arm, and they walked in the direction of the main road. “Step down, and we’ll cross the street.”
“Gotcha.”
“Reese, do you want to talk?”
“Not yet, but thanks. I’ve got to figure this one out on my own.”
It wasn’t simple because he wasn’t the man he used to be. He definitely wasn’t the man Cheyenne needed in her life. Cheyenne needed and deserved a man who could take care of her. She deserved a real marriage.
The plan to dissolve their marriage had seemed easy back in Vegas. Now that he knew her, knew the food she loved most, the colors that made her happy, the music she listened to when she was down—all of the things she’d shared in her letters—it didn’t feel like an easy in-and-out plan.
Chapter Three
A few days after Reese’s visit, Cheyenne sat down in the barber chair and looked at the shop, at her dream. She smiled and rested her hands on her belly. She’d cleaned and polished, and the only thing left to do was paint. She would wait until she talked to a doctor before she undertook that task. She wanted to make sure it would be safe for the baby.
She eased out of the chair and headed for the back room. What had once been a storeroom was now her little apartment. It held a bed, a chair, dorm-sized fridge and microwave. She even
