Blake’s soft touch brought me back to reality. His hand on my shoulder, he said, “Claire, you’re free now.”
I thanked David and watched him leave the office room in a daze. As Blake hugged me, I repeated the words to myself: six months. Six months of fighting, and now it had finally come to an end. I was free of him.
“Are you okay?” Blake asked. He pulled out a chair that I flopped into.
I could only smile dumbly back at him. I was afraid if I started talking, I wouldn’t be able to stop; I’d blab on and on, about how I felt so light I could float through the ceiling right now, about how I wanted to kiss Blake and hug him and run with him, run through this old office building singing.
Blake pulled up a chair and sat across from me. “I planned to take you out for dinner afterward, but if you’re too tired…”
At the mention of food, I roused myself. “Not at all.” I clasped his hand and smiled. “I’m just so shocked and happy and… Just give me a minute, will you?”
Blake nodded. “Do you want me to go?”
I smiled shyly at him. “Yeah. Just for a minute, could you?”
He did, with an understanding nod and a supportive smile.
“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
The door shut behind him, and I stared at it. What was the point of that? Why did I need to be alone? My legs answered me immediately. I leaped up and skipped around the room. Not light, dainty skips either, but big, knee-bobbing, upward thrusts of my legs that sent me careening around the room, around and around the tidy rosewood table in the middle. Next thing I knew, I was on the table, dancing to some unheard beat, whooping with an abandon I hadn’t known I’d had in me.
A few seconds later, there was a sharp knock on the door.
Blake’s voice come through the hard wood: “You all right in there?”
“Yeah. I… You can come in.”
“Just wanted to be sure you’re okay. I heard voices and…” Blake’s voice died away when he saw me.
“Claire?” he asked.
Still standing on the table, looking down at him, I smiled guiltily.
“What are you doing up there?” he asked.
I couldn’t hold back my delighted grin any longer.
“Dancing,” I said.
He cocked his head at me, his own smile growing. Then, with a half shrug to himself, he got up on the table with me.
Clasping my hands, he began to dance. We moved back and forth and around. Blake spun me and dipped me. I laughed and he grinned.
“I wasn’t always a shut-in, you know,” he explained.
Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. He picked me up and carried me out of there, out of the office building, past the shocked lawyers and puzzled clients, to all of whom he explained: “She won her divorce.”
Our laughter was better than any response they could have given.
Blake carried me all the way to our green Ford pickup and put me in the passenger’s seat.
“The restaurant I’m taking you to is a congratulations present,” he said as he started the car.
The drive there was the 91.5 Rock O’Clock radio station, with some air guitar and steering wheel percussion by Blake. The walk up to the restaurant was anticipation; Blake wouldn’t tell me which one it was; all he’d divulge was that “it’s a new restaurant with a cool new concept.”
By the time we got there, I’d asked if it was just about every newish restaurant and cool concept I could think of, all of my guesses failing. Nothing, however, prepared me for what I found when I stepped inside the sleek, triangle-shaped restaurant called Noir.
Blindfolds. Our server was holding red satin blindfolds.
“Told you it was cool,” Blake said, nudging me.
I tried to smile back at him. Now was probably not the time to mention that I was afraid of the dark. Even now, sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night, having dreamed that Angelo was under the bed or in the closet, coming for me. Even though he was still locked up, I couldn’t quite believe I was safe.
“You trust me, don’t you?” Blake asked, taking my hand.
I kept my gaze on his hand and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Really, it was a neat idea after all. It was not long after being seated that neat became thrilling.
The waitress, a female voice named “Ellie,” rhymed off a whole list of meals. We decide on rabbit—“For old times’ sake,” Blake joked.
I squeezed his hand. “Though they probably won’t make it as good as you did.”