Love's Last Chance (19 page)

“Hi, Arch.” She moved farther away from the
gathering of performers nearby.

“How are you, my sweet?”

“Good. You?”

“Tip top. Is it two weeks yet?”

“Don’t give me that crap, Archer Canfield.
You’re the most organized man I know.” She smiled.

“Just pulling your leg, my dear. You’re
right, of course. Two weeks to the day.”

“So what did you decide?”

She heard him clear his throat. “Life isn’t
as simple as you might think.”

“Oh?” She chewed her lip.
Don’t think I’m
going to like this.

“I haven’t been completely honest about…my
life.”

I knew there was something about him I
didn’t know. Do I want to know? Guess I’m going to find out
anyway.
“Go ahead.”

“This isn’t easy.”

She lowered herself into a folding chair and
took a deep breath. “I’m ready. Shoot.”

“Before I met you, there was Alice.”

“Alice?”

“Long before I met you. Alice and I…we…well,
we got married.”

“Married?” She shot up.

“Calm down, darling.”

“Don’t you ‘darling’ me!” Heat rose in her
face, her heart rate spiraled.

“Please, Dorrie. Let me finish.”

She sank back down and tried to calm her
heart rate. “Continue.”

“Alice and I were married for three years
before she had a terrible car wreck.”

Dorrie was quiet, listening.

“She received a brain injury and hasn’t been
herself since. As time went on, her condition deteriorated…to the
point where I had to place her in a…facility.”

“Facility?”

“Think you call them nursing homes,
here?”

“Oh. Got it.”

“She can no longer say much, but she
recognizes me.”

“That’s where you disappear to on Sundays?”
Dorrie’s heart softened.

“That’s my day with Alice. She looks forward
to seeing me.”

“It must be hard for you.”

“Alice was the love of my life. We were very
close.” She heard a catch in his voice.

“Oh, Arch…I’m so sorry for you.” Tears stung
her eyes.

“I’ve been told by her doctors that her
deterioration continues. Lawyers have advised me to divorce her for
financial reasons. I cannot bring myself to do that.”

There was silence between them.

“I don’t know how much more time she has,”
he almost whispered. “But I need to keep my Sundays for her
until…that day comes. I know she’d do the same for me.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.
Oh my God!
Archer.

“I know I shouldn’t have taken you to dinner
or kissed you or anything. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been
dreaming about you since our last shoot. I hope you’re not
mad.”

“I’m not,” she said in a whisper.

“About your returning to New York. I’d be
head over heels about it, but cannot offer you marriage. Not now.
However, we could live together. Or…or I could set up an apartment
for you, but I’ve a feeling that’s not what you’re looking
for.”

Dorrie covered her face with her hand,
pushing her thumb in to stop the flow of tears. “Oh, Arch. You’re
right, I couldn’t do that. I want…what you can’t offer.”

“I’m so sorry, my darling. Another time,
another place…perhaps…”

“Perhaps.”

“I do love you, you know. Always have.”

“I know.” Her chin quivered.

“I’d take good care of you. Really.”

“Please. Don’t. It’s so tempting.” A sob
caught in her throat.

“Would you try it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“No harm in asking. You’ve no idea how sad
this makes me. It was hard for me when you went to L.A. the first
time. I was depressed for weeks after you left. This is worse.”

“Ours is the relationship that almost was,
Arch.” Dorrie pulled a tissue from her pocket.

“Damn. Life stinks.”

“Yep.” A heaviness settled in her chest.

“So this is goodbye?”

“I guess so.” She looked up at the ceiling,
blinking rapidly.

“Maybe not forever.”

“Please. That’s too gruesome even to
consider.”

“Of course. You’re right. Good luck, my
darling. I hope you find happiness.”

“I wish you the same.”

Dorrie closed her phone and stared into
space. Archer’s news was not what she expected at all. The shock of
his situation made her angry and sad at the same time. Her feelings
for him tumbled through her heart like they were in a clothes
dryer, round and round and round, but never solidified.
Would I
want to live with him? He loves me. I could do worse. But he’s
married. That’s so not okay. Do I still have feelings for him?
Probably.

So lost in thought was she that she didn’t
hear Gunther call to her. Finally, he hollered and she jumped.

“For God’s sake, Dorrie! What’s wrong with
you? You look like you just lost your best friend. Chop chop. The
new camera arrived. We’ll be ready to shoot in fifteen
minutes.”

She pushed up from the chair and looked
blankly at Gunther before his words penetrated her brain. “Right,
right. Evan, Stella, Damon…” She called the dancers by name and
made her way over to the set.
I’ll sort this out later.

The shoot lasted until eleven o’clock. A
limousine waited at the curb for Gunther. He offered her a ride
home.

“Where’s your fancy car?”

“In the shop.”

“What would I do with my car?”

“That poor excuse for a vehicle? Leave it
here. Pick it up in the morning.”

“How would I get back here?”

“If you stay the night with me, my limo will
bring you back in the morning.”

Exhaustion caused her to laugh so hard she
couldn’t catch her breath.

“Show up with you tomorrow? Showing everyone
I spent the night with you, while attempting to remain
professional? You’re joking.”

He stiffened.

“You’re not? I see. Stop trying to seduce
me, proposition me, kidnap me, dupe me, or anything with me. Okay?
I’ve told you I’m not interested.”

“Can’t blame me for trying.”

She stepped up to him and poked his firm
chest with her forefinger. “Oh, yeah? Can, too, blame you. And I
do! I’ve had a rough day. Leave me alone.” With that, she stalked
off to the parking lot, praying her rust bucket would start on the
first try. Fortunately, it did, and she drove home.

Her roommates were out when she reached the
tiny apartment. She poured a vodka and tonic, hoping it would help
her unwind. After plopping down on the sofa and putting her feet up
on the coffee table, she tried to sort out the information she’d
received from Rick and Archer.

Rick wants a
weekday
girlfriend.
Archer wants a mistress. I want neither. There’s still Johnny.
She smiled to herself.
Johnny.
She sank back into the sofa
cushions and closed her eyes. Visions of their time together at the
reunion flashed through her mind. The volleyball game, him carrying
her home, making love.

A warm sensation crept into her heart. Her
fingers tingled at the memory of touching his chest, his back, and
other parts. She licked her lips.
Johnny loves me. He already
asked me to move in.
Her confidence surged. A text from Gracie
drew her attention.

Dorrie dialed her friend.

“Who’s the winner? I’m dying to know.”

“No one yet.”

“Anyone at least eliminated?”

“Oh, yeah. Archer and…maybe Rick.”

“Two, already?”

“I’m kind of tired, Gracie. I hope you
understand if I hang up and go to bed. Early day tomorrow,
too.”

“Sure. Call if you want to talk. Love
you.”

“Love you, too.”

Dorrie washed her glass and put it in the
drainer to dry. She peeled off her clothes and slipped into her
narrow bed.
Ah, to stretch out in a big bed with the man of my
dreams. Maybe Johnny
?
I get that Rick wants his cake and eat
it, too. He’s not ready for a relationship. Won’t even say he won’t
date other women on weekends he’s away. Won’t take me with him. I
can’t go back for that. I’m sorry, Rick, you’re half a loaf, and
it’s not enough.

She rolled over, turning her furrowed brow
to stare at the moon, shrinking each day. Before she could ask it
any questions, she was asleep.

Two weeks turned into three and no word from
Johnny. Dorrie worked harder than ever. Each night, she soaked her
ankle and wrapped it in a fresh
Ace
bandage. She grew
sensitive to the limitations forced on her by her weak joint, and
stopped dancing before it gave out.

Each day, there were more rehearsals. Many
times she and her troupe would simply sit and watch shots being set
up or filmed. It seemed to take forever to reach the point where
the last dance routine would be in the can.

Finally, it appeared on the schedule. Two
more weeks until the final shot. Dorrie tried not to think about
Johnny, but he crept into her thoughts. The afternoon after the new
schedule was posted, she received a text.

Sorry I didn’t contact you sooner, but I’ve
been out of town on business. I’ll be home all night tonight.
Alone. Take off your clothes and call me. Lol. John.

Johnny being Johnny.
She grinned and
the heaviness in her chest lifted.
Maybe this is it. Perfect
timing. The movie is almost done, and I can go back to New York.
There’s been no more discussion about a series pilot, so maybe this
is all there is. I’d love to go back and move in with Johnny. Maybe
even something more.

Dorrie snapped her cell closed and put it in
her pocket.

“We’re ready to set up, Dorrie,” the
assistant director said.

She rose and gathered the dancers, placing
them in their spots for the second to last dance routine. Slips,
one fall, and missed timing delayed the shoot. Dorrie got home at
eleven o’clock, exhausted.
But if I don’t call Johnny, he’ll
think I’m blowing him off.
She toed off her shoes, poured a
glass of Moscato wine, and stretched out on her bed before dialing
the phone. Lightness filled her heart in anticipation of a loving
conversation.

“Hey, West Coast. How are you?”

“Fine, Johnny. Not really. Wiped out.
You?”

“I’m good. So, this is the two week mark, or
sort of.”

“Sort of.”

“I would’ve called sooner, but I was away on
business.”

“How is business?”

“Great! I’ve been put in charge of a new
expansion plan.”

“Good for you.”

“You called to get the two week update,
right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Here goes. I think you know how I
feel about you. I’m not good with words, you know that. Actions are
more my style.” He snickered.

“Go on.” She rolled her eyes.

“My opinion? Because I care about you, I’d
say you should stay in L.A. Take the job working on the pilot, and
hopefully the series.”

“What?” She bolted upright.

“Yeah. That’s the best thing for you…your
career. Coming back to New York, even though I’d love to have you
with me, wouldn’t be good for you. You’d always wonder what
would’ve happened if you’d gone for the big deal, the big cheese.
You know?”

Dorrie sucked on her lower lip. “You don’t
want me to come back and be with you?”

“Did I say that? No. Were you listening?
Obviously not! I just said I’d sacrifice your company so you could
have your dream. If the show flopped, then you could come back to
New York.”

“You don’t want me?”

“Dorrie!” He hollered. “Of course I want
you. It’s because I love you that I’m willing to give you up, so
you can have what you really want.”

“What if I really wanted you?”

There was silence. Johnny broke it using a
softer voice. “Do you…want me?”

“What do you think?” She rested her hand on
her hip.

“I need to hear it from you.”

“This conversation is about you wanting me
to come back to New York. Obviously, there’s nothing to discuss.”
She set her jaw.

“Wait! Don’t hang up!”

She put the phone back to her ear. “Why
not?”

“I haven’t talked to you in a while. Are you
dating anyone?”

“I’m dating Three-hundred and fifty
different men, all named Robert.” She couldn’t suppress a
giggle.

He laughed. “Figures. Seriously.”

“No one special. Actually, no time to date
at all.”

“If I said I thought that was too bad, I’d
be a liar.” He chuckled.

“And you?”

“Living the life of a nun…a priest, rather.
Also too busy working to date.”

Good. Maybe you’re growing up.

“Wish you were here, babe.”

Is that loneliness I hear? John Flanagan,
lonely? Nah.

“Me, too.” She brushed her hand through her
hair.

“Please try to understand what I’m telling
you, Dorrie.”

She sat up. “I’m trying, Johnny. But all I
get is you don’t care.”

“I do. More than you’ll ever know.” Then he
sighed. “Verbal communication was never our strong point, was
it?”

She smiled. “Guess not.”

“But we’re killers playing on the same
team.”

“Undefeated.”

“Think about what I said. It’s getting late,
and I have an early morning meeting.”

“Okay.”

“Love you, Dorrie.”

“Yeah, right.”

With emotion barely concealed in his voice,
he signed off, “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

“Night.”

She closed her phone and fell back on the
bed.
Great. No one wants me to come back to New York, and I’ve
no job here.
Tears stung her eyes, and she let them flow.
Burying her face in her pillow, Dorrie sobbed her heart out.
Exhaustion stemmed the flow and forced her to dry her cheeks and
shut out the light. Sleep came quickly.

When the alarm went off at five, she was
barely able to move. Lots of cold water couldn’t erase all the
puffiness from her eyes. Gloom settled over her spirits.
Hustle
and Dance
was almost finished. Only one more short dance
routine to film. She had plans to celebrate with Meg and Chaz when
the movie wrapped. But drinking champagne and laughing with her
friends held no appeal.