I pray the guys will be gone by the time he arrives, but the three of them move deeper into the store to lift the skirt of the Little Red Riding Hood puppet.
Dean walks in the front door, his stride long and rapid. Tension lines every muscle in his body, and concern burns in his eyes.
I drop the phone with a clatter. He rounds the corner to where I’m standing and puts a firm hand on my shoulder.
“Sit down. You’re okay.” He glances to the back of the store when the sound of male laughter rings out. His expression hardens, but his voice remains steady as he turns to me. “I’m here. Breathe, Liv. Count of ten.”
I inhale on his count, then exhale. Again and again until finally I’m able to take an easier breath. My dizziness lessens a bit, and the room starts to steady into balance.
Dean rummages underneath the counter and finds a bottle of water. He cracks it open and holds it to my mouth. After I manage a few sips, he nods toward my hands.
“Flex your fingers.”
I stretch my fingers out and flex them a few times, the activity a distraction from the tightness in my chest and throbbing heartbeat.
The boys’ voices get closer. Dean steps in front of me, blocking them from my view.
“Hey, Professor West, what’re you doing here?” It’s the skinny guy’s voice. “I’m Scott Kenner. I took your class last semester. Cool stuff.”
“Thanks.” Dean’s tone is short and clipped. He tilts his head to the door. “You guys heading out now?”
“Yeah, we’re going to a Christmas party down by the lake.”
“Good.”
The guys hesitate, thrown by Dean’s unfriendly demeanor, but then they mumble a goodbye and shuffle out. When the door clicks shut, Dean turns back to me.
I take another swallow of water. The panic is subsiding, like a wave receding slowly from a beach. Exhaustion takes its place, draining my muscles of strength.
Dean reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from my forehead, his fingers lingering against my skin.
“Been a while,” he murmurs.
I nod and draw in another breath. I haven’t had a panic attack since long before we were married. My throat aches.
“You’re here alone?” Dean asks.
“Allie went out with a friend for a quick dinner.” I wipe a trickle of sweat from my temple. “She’ll be back any minute.”
The thought of Allie and Brent returning to find me a total mess is enough to get me to my feet. I go into the bathroom to splash water on my face and brush my hair, then emerge feeling calmer and more in control.
“Triple chocolate fudge cake.” Allie waves a cardboard container at me as she and Brent come through the door. “From Abernathy’s just around the corner. Oh, hi, Dean.”
Even with Brent there, Allie blushes when she looks at Dean. That makes me smile a little. The remnants of my panic fade, though I’m weary to the bone.
I take the sweet-smelling box, aware of Dean speaking to Allie in a low voice. She glances at me with concern.
“Go get some rest, Liv,” she says. “I didn’t know you have migraines.”
Grateful that Dean didn’t divulge the real reason for my sudden breakdown, I give Allie a weak smile. “I don’t… I don’t get them very often.”
“I’ll stay with Allie until the store closes,” Brent offers.
Allie gets my satchel and coat, then ushers us out the door with instructions for me to get a good night’s sleep. Although I’m exhausted, part of my brain is prickling with unease and fear.
I can’t look at Dean as we head home and go up the stairs to our apartment. All I want to do is throw myself into his arms and cling to him. But I no longer know if I have the right to do that.
I shed my coat and go into the living room. Everything looks the same as it did before I left. Christmas tree, holly-covered mantel, mistletoe. The curtains are open, the town lights shining, the lake an expanse of black in the distance.
“Liv.”
I turn. Dean is standing by the door, looking every inch the man I have loved for so long. Dark, rumpled hair, a thick rugby shirt, worn jeans torn at the knee. Those beautiful, gold-flecked eyes fixed on me.
Without a word, he holds out his arms.
A cry breaks loose from the dark pit in my soul. I fly across the room to him, my tears overflowing when his arms close tight around me. I press my face against his chest as sobs wrench my throat and my heart shatters with relief.
He sinks to the floor, never loosening his hold on me, and pulls me onto his lap. The low sound of his voice rumbles in my ear. Tears spill down my face in unending streams. I clutch a fistful of his shirt and cry and cry and cry until my whole body aches.
His arms tighten around me, strong as steel and warm as sunlight. My mind empties of thought, and there is only us again, my body fitting against his, his grip on me unbreakable. All the heartache and fear of the past few months pours out of me, the wrenching torrent of a broken dam, until finally my flood of tears begins to slow.