Hell on Heels(51)

Kevin and I laughed, but we toasted again.

My turn.

“May 2017 be the year I let go.” I didn’t yell mine; instead, I simply said it out loud.

“I’ll cheers to that, babe.” Leighton clinked her glass on mine.

Kevin rested his head on my shoulder. “Me too.”

The classic tune of Auld Lang Syne gave way to a newer beat and the dance floor was flooded with bubbles. The elated crowd started to pulse again, as the New Year had been officially rung in.

My hips swayed and my hands twisted their way into the air.

There was something powerful about not being able to hear your own thoughts over the music. You had nothing to do but move.

Get lost in the rhythm and enjoy a natural high.

My face was red and my hair was wet by the time we moved back to the bar.

“I’ll have a slippery nipple.” Kevin winked at the very good-looking, very straight bartender and I shook my head.

“Get me one too!” Leighton shoved his arm.

I leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. “I’m really hot. I’m just going to go down to the beach for a few minutes.” I had to practically yell it over the noise.

She frowned. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come with you?”

“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Just hot from dancing. Keep an eye on Casanova.”

I motioned to Kevin with a chin tilt and she nodded. “Okay, we’ll be here or back at the little podium thingy.”

“Okay.”

Turning my back to them, I moved through the crowd. It was easy. Everyone was moving towards the dance floor, but I was moving away from it. Finally, the heat of the crowd lifted as I took the stairs down to the beach.

The breeze picked up and felt refreshing on the warmth of my skin.

I loved the beach.

Wandering not too far from the resort, I walked closer to the ocean and sat down in the sand.

It was cool from the night air and I fisted my fingers into it.

Life had a funny way of testing you.

My test was grief.

Grief was like a freight train. It runs you down, and after, you do the best you can to pick up the pieces of what’s left and put yourself back together again.

In nearly a decade, I hadn’t found all my pieces.

Maybe that meant I failed my test, or maybe it didn’t.

The more aware I became of who I was, the more I was sure that life’s tests didn’t have an expiration date. Some people passed or failed theirs right away, while others took years just to know they were being tested.

That was me.

I’d had more in common with the beach than I’d ever really known. Just like it, I’d kept my head buried and let the souls of thousands of others walk through me.

I didn’t want to be like the sand anymore. I wanted to be like the ocean.

I wanted to be my own.

I wanted people to love me, but fear me, simply because who I was demanded that respect from them.

The ebb and flow of the tide would be my sanctuary, where my grief and acceptance would come to pass.

Yes, I was a lot like the beach.

My past was in the sand and my future was in the waves themselves.

“Char! Is that you?”

I turned my head to see Leighton and Kevin stumbling towards me in the dark.

“It’s me!” I called back.

They ran, plopping down, one on each side of me.

“I’m exhausted.” Kevin rested his head on my shoulder.

Leighton sighed and placed her head on my other shoulder. “I’m getting too old to party.”

I laughed.

“You good, Char?” Kevin asked.

Leighton wrapped her arms around one of mine.

“I’m getting there.”

We sat there for hours, watching the tide roll in before we dragged ourselves to our villa, to bed.

“Happy New Year, Charlie bear,” Henry whispered in my dreams.

I was happy.

I was still wounded, but I was happy.

And the first four days of 2017 were spent in the sunshine eating everything that wasn’t good for us.

All killer, no filler, as Henry used to say.




Valentine’s Day, the Hallmark holiday, the holiday that women everywhere seemed to either love or hate, no in-between.

I was spending mine with Beau Callaway, so that ought to tell you what side I fell on for this particular year.

After I returned home from Mexico, life resumed its usual hectic lullaby. January was consumed with a last minute event for shotgun nuptials, and thus, I hadn’t seen much of any of The Charleston Three, as Kevin had so dubbed them.

They no doubt lived lives that didn’t entirely revolve around me, or I them, and that was okay.

Doctor Colby said it was a healthy integration of lives.

I was so inclined to believe her.

So, when Beau called last week and asked if he could take me out for Valentine’s Day, I’d eagerly accepted his invitation to spend some time together.

He was picking me up at my office.

“You look like a heartbreaker, Char,” Kevin drawled from his position in my desk chair.

He helped me decide between three dresses, eventually settling on a slightly above the knee blood red dress that was low cut in the front, with a crisscross lace up to keep the ladies in their assigned seating.