Slow Dancing on Price's Pier by Lisa Dale Read Free Book Online Page A

day with a glossary of coffee terms; Dani had been Thea’s friend since she’d wrestled a guy to the ground for trying to leave without paying; Claudine, in her thrift-store tank tops and thinning bandannas, offered provocative insight that Thea found fascinating; and Rochelle—she was still new, but like all of the baristas that Thea hired, she meant well.
    Thea supposed she should have known that filling her shop with such good-hearted people would mean they might be up to something, asking to stay late at work. And it wasn’t long before she understood the real reason they had decided to get together. Gradually the conversation came around to Thea, and the hints were clear: You seem to be working so much . And What are your plans for when Irina’s away with her dad? They were worried, all of them, about her.
    â€œAll right, let’s have it,” Thea said. “Come on. Tell me. What do you want to know?”
    For a moment, the little group went quiet.
    It was Claudine who broke the stalemate. “Well then, for starters, how did you find out about the affair?” she asked, her accent making the word affair sound much more romantic than it was.
    â€œDid you barge in on them?” Jules asked. “Catch them in the act?”
    â€œNo. Oh—no. I didn’t walk in on them,” Thea said. But already, her brain was building alternate histories, layering them up like scenes of a filmstrip. She hadn’t “walked in.” But she could have—maybe. She saw herself naively opening the door to her bedroom, white sheets, naked legs splayed, Jonathan’s head lifting in surprise, his mouth shiny, the scramble and fumbling as he said, Thea! What are you —
    â€œI did not walk in on anyone.” She pushed the images from her head. Her husband—sleeping with another woman. She was more repulsed than hurt.
    â€œThen how did you find out?” Lettie asked softly.
    â€œHe told me.”
    â€œJust like that. He told you.” Dani paused, her coffee in the air.
    â€œIs that so hard to believe? He felt guilty. He’s a good man.”
    â€œBut he told you because you had a suspicion, no?” Claudine asked.
    â€œNo idea at all,” Thea said. “I don’t think he’d planned it. It happened so fast.”
    â€œMaybe it’s not serious,” Rochelle said gently. A bit of whipped cream had dotted her chin, and Jules motioned for her to wipe it off.
    â€œRidiculous.” Claudine pursed her lips. “Of course it was serious. It’s not worth a man’s time to confess a one-night stand.”
    â€œMaybe not to you,” Jules said, and Claudine elbowed him.
    â€œDo you think it’s serious?” Lettie asked, her hand, cold and papery, pressed for a moment on Thea’s arm. “Because my first husband always said it wasn’t serious. But every Thursday night when I’d go off to orchestra, he’d have a different girl. And a whole bunch of little ‘not seriouses’ end up as one steaming heap of serious in my book.”
    Thea shook her head. “He says it didn’t mean anything. And I believe him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Thea looked down at her hands. “It’s hard to explain. But I trust him. Even now. If that makes any sense.”
    â€œThea.” Lettie’s voice was gentle. “Were you unhappy?”
    Thea felt them looking at her, waiting.
    She picked up her own drink, decaf coffee with a splash of milk and mint. She bought time by taking a sip. She and Jonathan had done everything right as husband and wife. There was a lot to love about the lifestyle they’d built together—a good house, a good income, a beautiful daughter. When Thea got an occasional case of the blues or the what-ifs, she’d written it off as commonplace. What woman didn’t doubt her job or her marriage from time to time? “No, I wasn’t unhappy. I don’t think I was,