Dixon smiles, and he leans forward, brushing away a runaway tear. “Good, ’cause you’re the only woman I want, angelo.”

We’re no longer in a room full of people, it’s only Dixon and me, and as he returns my gaze, I realize something I’ve been trying to avoid for a very long time. I’m falling head over heels for Dr. Mathews. I don’t throw the word “love” around loosely, but with Dixon, this feels something like it. The connection between us was instant, and no matter how hard I try to fight it, it only seems to get stronger and stronger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real treat for you this evening,” the emcee announces. “Please welcome to the stage, the brilliant and well-loved genius, Dr. Maxwell Wellington.”

At the mention of Dr. Wellington’s name, both Dixon and I seem to snap out of our daze, bringing home the fact we’re sitting in a room full of people, and not alone.

“Thank you for that kind introduction,” he says, looking over at the emcee. “I’ll make sure to pay you later tonight.” The room erupts in laughter.

Once the cackles die down, Dr. Wellington gets serious and puts on his glasses. “So, I was asked to talk about my experiences and share with you lovely people my thoughts about psychiatry today. I had an entire speech prepared, and after many rehearsals, I was ready to deliver my ‘wisdom’ and hope my insight came across as that, and not incoherent babble.”

The room once again chuckles. Dr. Wellington owns the room as he continues.

“But something occurred a few days ago and, well, this particular occurrence really opened up a can of worms.”

I gulp as Dr. Wellington looks my way with a cheeky grin.

“If easily offended, I suggest you turn away now because my topic is one that may be considered a little taboo.”

The room breaks out into tiny whispers, people wondering what this unthinkable topic is all about.

Dr. Wellington gestures with his wrinkled hands for silence, and smiles. “I’m going to talk about…women.”

Twenty minutes later, Dr. Wellington has the entire room at his mercy and eagerly awaiting his punch line. His speech has touched on the topic of men and women and why after so many years of civilization, we just can’t seem to understand how the other half of the species operates.

“It’s no secret that men and women are very different. And us scientists, we generally study four primary areas of difference in male and female brains. Now, I could go on and bore you with the details of what each component entails. But if I may, can I kindly ask you to look at the person beside you?”

The room does as he asks.

“Do you see that?” he questions after the room quiets down. “Whether we’re male or female, at the end of the day…we’re all just human beings.”

When Dr. Wellington looks our way, I know that without a doubt, Dixon and I were the inspiration behind his brilliant talk. And Dixon knows it too as he turns to look at me with a mischievous smile on his handsome face.

“So, what’s the answer to this riddle we call relationships?” Dr. Wellington asks, rubbing his chin in thought.

The room is silent, waiting.

He smiles, his crinkled face turning up in amusement. “Who damn well knows?” he says lightheartedly. “But after fifty years of marriage, I’ve learned one thing.” He pauses, adding to the anticipation. “Life and love isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…it’s about learning to dance in the rain. Thank you.”

The room erupts into a thunderous applause and everyone stands, clapping loudly as Dr. Wellington shuffles down the stairs. He stops by our table and gently pats me on the shoulder. “I feel a storm brewing,” he cheekily says, winking at Dixon, who smirks.

The band starts playing and everyone uses this interlude to visit the restrooms or talk to guests.

“I’m just sneaking out for a smoke,” Dixon confesses into my ear. “But shh, don’t tell anyone. Half of these guests would have a coronary if they knew.”

I laugh and nod, loving the fact that under his smart tie and sophisticated looks, Dr. Mathews is a rebel at heart.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises as he stands, placing a light kiss on my cheek.

The moment he walks away, Rebecca takes his seat.

“You two are soooo cute together,” she sarcastically quips, not meaning a word.

But I play along. “Thanks.”

There is an uncomfortable silence, which I prefer over Rebecca’s harassment.

“I bet he’s a real stud in the sack.”

My cheeks flush, as nothing good can come from this conversation. “Um, yeah, he sure is,” I unconvincingly reply as I nervously toy with the pendant around my neck.

“With looks like that, I bet he could get any woman he wanted. You’re real lucky he chose you. I mean, you must be dynamite in bed,” she casually says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not like that,” I pathetically reply. “Yes, the sexual chemistry is off tap, but there’s something more. Something deeper.”

“Oh yeah, I bet there’s something deeper,” Rebecca crudely adds, and I turn my nose up at her vulgarity.

She takes a moment to look at me, and whatever she sees must reveal the truth. “Holy shit, you’re not fucking him, are you? Oh my God.”She covers her mouth, attempting to mask her laugh.

Her ridicule over a touchy topic for me has my cheeks reddening further, and I lower my face, ashamed. Why does everything have to be about sex?

“Sweetheart, from one girl to another, men like that ain’t gonna stick around if you’re not putting out. I mean, look at him, and well, look at you,” she cruelly states. “A man like Dixon wants to fuck, not talk, and if you don’t give him what he wants, he’ll find it elsewhere. Honey, I’m sure you can see there are many willing participants who would happily cheat on their spouses to tend to his needs. Me included. You wanna keep a man like that? Well, you better give up the goods.”

“What are you talking about?” I defensively ask, the walls closing in around me.

“I’m saying you gotta rock his world before someone else does it for you. This innocent, virginal gig is only going to last for so long.”

I gasp, stunned she can read me so easily.

“Gosh, don’t look so disgusted. Most women would kill to be in your shoes. Sex is power, and that power best be in your hands, not his. If you want to keep him, you’ll do whatever it takes,” she states, but I’m no longer listening to her.

I begin to feel sick, her words stirring up unwanted memories, memories I promised to deal with once I got back to New York. But hearing Rebecca say the words I know to be true sends my past torpedoing into me, and I’m going to hurl.

“Excuse me,” I say, standing quickly and making a mad dash through the room.

The moment I reach the restrooms, I crouch over the toilet bowl and heave up the entire contents of my stomach. I vomit until there is nothing left, but I continue to purge until I’m gagging on my tears and regret. My loud sobs echo off the bowl, and I thump the cold tiles underneath me, wishing I wasn’t so fucked up and vulnerable to my past.

The dizziness kicks in and I cover my ears, his words on a cruel repetitive loop, one I’ve been trying to silence for thirteen years.

“You’ll do this, Sunny. If you love me, you’ll do this.”

31

Skeletons in the Closet

DIXON

I have no idea where she is. I’ve searched this entire hotel for Madison, but she has vanished without a trace. The concierge has checked her room, but she’s not in there, and I’ve tried her cell, but it goes straight to voicemail.