Another One

by Aleatha Romig

“That’s it.”

  “Do you remember what you did after you told me that?” I ask, hoping he does.

  Trevor doesn’t answer; instead, he leans toward me until our lips touch.

  On a warm afternoon with people milling about, the world disappears. It’s not the fervent explosion of last night.

  It’s more.

  It’s sunshine and freshly cut grass, bicyclists and horse-drawn carriages. It’s a walk in the park and sharing a giant frozen hot chocolate. It is the careful tending of a fire, the diligent care that is needed to keep the flames burning, their intensity growing with each moment we’re together.

  When our kiss ends, we both stare into one another’s eyes. Finally, it’s Trevor who speaks.

  “That was what I did. Now, do you remember what happened next?”

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Can we please forget that part?”

  “Nope. Never. When it comes to you, I don’t want to ever forget a second. And I want to keep learning. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

  “I love New York pizza.”

  He shakes his head. “No way. Cop-out answer. Everyone loves New York pizza. It’s the best in the whole world. Tell me something else.”

  “Well, I have family in Illinois who would wholeheartedly disagree. Chicago has pretty good pizza, too.”

  “That age-old debate was obviously settled from your first answer. Chicago’s pizza is deep-dish. Real pizza comes from New York.”

  I grin as I take a second and decide to tell him something that even I’m unsure about, something I don’t want to admit. “I’m afraid that I messed up my chances to get the job in ladies’ lingerie. I don’t regret what I did, going onstage. The show had to go on. But now I am afraid.”

  “What’s the worst thing that can happen if you don’t get it?”

  I swallow, thinking about his question. It’s a good question. I like that his response isn’t false reassurance. Instead, he’s making me think about the possibilities. “I guess the worst thing is that I don’t get to move back here...and we will be apart again.” I don’t say the last part.

  “Don’t you like London?”

  “I do. I really do. I think I’m a little lonely.”

  “How can you be lonely with Stephen? He seems like when he’s not upset, he could be a lot of fun.”

  I scoff. “He’s even fun when he’s upset.”

  “Is he helpful?”

  “Yes. He’s the best at...well, most everything.”

  “I was wondering if he could help me with something.”

  “Stephen? My Stephen? What do you need help with?”

  “I was wondering if he could help decipher a text message I received last night.”

  “Oh my gosh!” I lean forward until my chest is flush with my knees and cover my head with my hands. My words are muffled against my skirt. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mention that.”

  “Can I take the funny symbols to mean you like my ass?”

  I peer up at him. “Seriously? You’re going to call me out on one drunken text?”

  His smile grows. “If it means you like my ass, you’re forgiven. I have a secret that shouldn’t be too secret.”

  I sit back up and look him in the eye. “I already know you’re not great with women. Which isn’t true, by the way. What other secret do you have?”

  “I like your ass.”

  I shake my head. “Is that all?”

  “Oh no. I like your ass and...” He takes his finger and traces my cheek. “Your eyes. Your smile.” His finger continues moving downward. “The way you shivered as I kissed your neck.”

  “I’m ticklish.”

  He keeps going, his touch moving along the side of my breasts. “Your tits.”

  “They’re not that impressive. Have you seen my best friend’s?”

  Trevor laughs. “I didn’t think Stephen’s were that remarkable. Yours are definitely more impressive.”

  His response makes me giggle.

  “I love your laugh. And in this dress and even in the jeans last night, you have shapely, sexy legs.” He looks back to me, our gazes set on one another. “There’s a part of you that I haven’t experienced, somewhere between your tits and legs, and believe me, I want to.”

  “Rather direct for a man not good around women.”

  “That’s why you scare the shit out of me. When I’m around you, I say things I’d never say. I want things, things I’m willing to do anything to get. I also want to be everything you deserve. That means that even though my first idea for this date was taking you to my apartment and getting to know that part of you that I’m missing, we drank frozen hot chocolate and are about to walk around Central Park.”

  I stand and hold out my hand to him. “Come on. Let’s walk. Remember, I’m free until work in the morning.”

  Trevor’s eyes sizzle, golden flakes exploding like fireworks as he reaches for my hand.

  Hand in hand, we walk along the main path, taking in the crowds of people, all most likely brought out by the nice weather. New Yorkers are a hardy bunch. Winter doesn’t stop them, but spring brings them out of the woodwork. Like rats in the subway, and yes, I mean that favorably, sunshine, flowers, and budding leaves awaken the masses.

  “Can I ask you about one other thing that’s been bugging me?” Trevor asks.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to steal cars or is there something about credit?”

  I twist and play punch his shoulder. “Stop. My autocorrect was having problems last night.”

  “Oh, we’re blaming autocorrect?”

  “Yes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  After nearly two hours of walking and one pedicab ride, we’re back to the entrance.

  “May we continue this date on to dinner?” Trevor asks.

  “I want to.” And I really do.

  “I sense something else.”

  “It’s Kimbra. Since I arrived in the city, I’ve only seen her last night, and as you know, I kind of left abruptly. She’s sent me a few hundred text messages this afternoon and wants me to come over to her apartment.”

  Trevor’s smile grows. “I think she’s setting you up.”

  “What? Why?”

  He pulls his phone from his pocket. When he shows me the screen, he too has multiple text messages from Kimbra and a few from Duncan.

  “When you came into the restaurant, I was talking to my brother. I mentioned that my date arrived. Since then, the two of them have been blowing up my phone. I had to put it on silent. Kimbra thinks she sensed something between us last night.”

  My eyes widen as I chew momentarily on my bottom lip. “You mean we aren’t as good of actors as we thought?”

  “Apparently, neither of us should give up our day jobs for Broadway.”

  “Well, there goes that backup plan.”

  “Right?” he asks. “All those voice lessons down the drain.”

  “You sing?”

  “Only in the shower.”

  My cheeks rise and heat as they undoubtedly fill with pink.

  Trevor reaches for my hand and hails a taxi. “That’s it. I’m taking you to my apartment to hear me sing.”

  “Trevor...”

  When the taxi stops, he gives the driver an address that right away I recognize.

  “Wait a minute. You don’t seriously think we should show up at Kimbra and Duncan’s together. Do you?”

  Before he answers, I willingly get into the back seat.

  “My lady, I’m tired of keeping our history a secret.” He turns my way as the taxi moves forward. “We can change our destination. We can go to my apartment or you back to your hotel. But no matter where we go, I’m not making the same mistake I made before. This will not be our only date. I want another one and another one. I think coming clean to Duncan and Kimbra is the first step.”

  “What if they’re upset?”

  “It won’t stop us. Nothing will stop us.” He lean
s close and kisses me.

  I’ve never wanted anyone to be more right about anything.

  Trevor

  Of course, my brother and his wife live in the penthouse, their apartment complete with an amazing view of the Empire State building. “Have you been here before?” I ask Shana as the elevator moves upward.

  “Once.”

  “Good.”

  Shana turns my way and smiles. Today’s walk in the sun and wind has left her cheeks pinkened. Her hair is pulled back in a long ponytail, the ends twisting into long curls and her eyes are wide. “Is there a reason we’re now talking in one-word sentences?”

  “I was just thinking that it was a dick move to bring you here before my apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Now, who’s using one word?”

  Thankfully we’re alone in the elevator as it continues its climb. To access the penthouse, you must first check in on the lobby floor and the doorman must enter a key, unless of course, it’s your penthouse and then you have a key.

  “Okay, why was it a dick move?” she asks, leaning back against the wall of the elevator.

  I look at the numbers changing above the door and know there’s no way I have time to explain that my apartment pales in comparison to Duncan’s. Instead, I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Because I would rather be back at my place serenading you.”

  Shana squeezes my hand. “If you can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  “No, my lady, when we’re together in my shower, I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  Shana takes her free hand and reaches out to the elevator’s control panel, her finger poised to push something.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking for the turn-around button.”

  “I don’t think—”

  We both still as the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slowly open.

  The entry before us is an expansive foyer with two large doors leading to one destination.

  “Once, before they were married,” Shana explains, “Duncan was out of town and I was in town. I stayed here with Kimbra for two nights.”

  Before I can respond, one of the grand doors opens and both Kimbra and Duncan are standing in the open frame. Their expressions are a mixture of emotions that seem to be waiting for us to comment.

  “Hi,” Shana says, stepping forward and hugging Kimbra. “Sorry about last night.”

  “Come on in,” Duncan says.

  Once the women are ahead of us, he pats my shoulder. “Sly, I like it.”

  It’s no secret that I’m not overly thrilled to get dating advice from my older brother.

  Their apartment is luxury at its finest—marble floors, fireplaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows. I think back to when Duncan first bought the penthouse. With his reputation as a lady’s man, I expected it to be the ultimate bachelor pad, a place with a revolving door where the doorman allowed only one woman up at a time—unless instructed differently.

  To his credit, as far as I know, it never was.

  With my experience in architecture, I could better describe the penthouse by assessing the square footage and mentioning the twelve-foot-high ceilings or custom woodwork and molding. While that’s all impressive, what really matters is that it’s fucking huge with a to-die-for wraparound balcony. And despite all of that, for years this beautiful apartment was simply the place where he slept.

  Kimbra really has changed his life.

  Looking around now, I see the subtle differences since they married: color and accents. If Max were here he might call them homey touches such as pictures of the two of them, as well as other photography of the city and artwork that was never here before.

  Through the years, my brother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. There’s the natural brotherly competition, and yet for some reason as I stand here at this second, I see him differently.

  With our history, this is a welcome revelation.

  “Wine?” Kimbra asks.

  “I’m fine,” Shana replies.

  The difference in Shana’s demeanor from the park to now makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to be the cause of any problem between her and her best friend, even if that best friend is my brother’s wife.

  Taking a deep breath, I jump in with both feet. “Wow, I bet the two of you…” speaking directly to Duncan and Kimbra, “…would never believe that Shana and I ran into one another in the lobby?” I look to Shana whose eyes are wide. “Actually, it was our taxis that arrived about the same time. Right?”

  “Umm,” Shana says, “we did arrive at the same time.”

  “Because?” Kimbra prompts, not letting us off the hook.

  Shana rushes toward Kimbra. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”

  I can’t help but notice Duncan’s large smile. Soon, his wife is smiling as widely. “That’s it,” Kimbra says. “Spill. I know darn well that you didn’t accidentally bump into one another in the lobby or sidewalk. I want all the juicy details.”

  As Kimbra speaks, Shana and I sit and our hands come together. From the strength of her grip, I know that she’s more nervous about this then she’s let on.

  “Oh my goodness, you’re holding hands.” Kimbra says, practically bouncing on the edge of the sofa facing us. “Last night...your lips!”

  “What?” Duncan asks.

  “It wasn’t an allergic reaction. Was it?”

  “We should have told you,” Shana confesses, blowing my well-contrived lie out of the water. “It’s that we didn’t want to complicate your wedding.”

  “Whoa, our wedding?” Duncan says.

  “That was nearly a year ago,” Kimbra remarks as if the wheels are turning in her head. “You two...this has been going on...for a year?”

  Shana’s big blue eyes turn my way and I begin our story. “Yes and no. You’re right. We arrived in the same taxi and how about before we give you all the details, we take you up on that offer of some wine?”

  “Only if Shana will help me find the glasses,” Kimbra says standing and beckoning Shana away from us.

  Before she goes, I give her hand one last squeeze.

  Instead of talking, Duncan leans back against the sofa and stares. I can’t tell if it’s his CEO look or just his cocky I’m better than you attitude. With each passing second, his grin grows until I find myself debating about yelling at him or jumping up from the sofa and punching him. Because that’s what brothers do or what being with my brother makes me think of doing.

  “Stop,” I finally say.

  “No way. I’m enjoying this.”

  “What?”

  “Seeing my little brother smitten.”

  “Smitten?” It seems like I’ve heard that recently. “What kind of word is that?”

  Duncan shrugs. “It’s what Kimbra calls it. I like it. It means—”

  “Bro, I’m the one with the master’s degree. I know what it means.”

  Instead of flinging back with a comment on how my education hasn’t given me the empire he’s built, Duncan stays calm, cool, and collected. “It looks good on you,” he says, moving his head up and down. “You know, better than that brooding loner thing.”

  I exhale. “You’re not mad?”

  “Fuck no. All I want is for you to be happy.”

  “Whatever this is,” I say, “started the night before your wedding. After that, I let her go, and I’ve regretted it for a year. I’m not letting her go again.”

  “Then don’t fuck this up. Kimbra loves Shana like the sister she never had. That makes the woman who was holding your hand like family.” His nose scrunches. “Okay, that seems weird, but whatever. Whatever you do, don’t piss off my wife.”

  “I’ve seen your wife pissed.”

  Duncan laughs. “Christmas last year. Who knew a delivery company could be persuaded to deliver on the holiday?”

  “She didn’t give them a choice.”

  We both laugh, rememberi
ng Kimbra’s persuasive technique.

  “Yeah, no one wants her upset.” I turn the direction of the kitchen. “They’re taking a while to get glasses.”

  Duncan tips his head toward the other side of the room. Nestled near the fireplace and built-in bookcases, there’s a small bar area with a large wine refrigerator and stemmed glasses hanging below the shelf above. “Especially since the glasses aren’t in the kitchen.”

  We both chuckle as the ladies come out of the kitchen empty-handed but thankfully, smiling from ear-to-ear.

  “No glasses?” I ask.

  “Actually,” Kimbra says with a smirk, “we were checking on dinner. It’s still baking but should be ready in a half hour. In the meantime...” she goes to the wine bar and reaches for the glasses. The crystal clinks as she brings four large round goblets and places them on the table between us. “Red or white?”

  Once we’re all properly equipped with our glasses, I begin.

  “The night before your wedding, at a small piano bar in the hotel in Indianapolis, I happened to go outside to the fire pits and saw the most beautiful woman—”

  “Wait,” Duncan interrupts, talking to Kimbra, “...the most beautiful...I thought you spent that night at your parents’?”

  Shana and I laugh as Kimbra slaps his chest. “I love you. Now, shut up and let Trevor talk. I just adore stories with happy endings.”

  My gaze meets Shana’s as she begins to speak.

  “The ending isn’t set, but right now, we want to see where this takes us.”

  I clear my throat. “Well, the strangest thing happened with that beautiful woman; I was instantly…” I think of the right word. “...smitten.”

  “Smitten?” Shana asks.

  Duncan smiles as Kimbra bounces and says, “See, I told you!”

  Two hours later, the four of us are laughing and talking as we finish the remainder of dessert. “Damn,” I say, “Kimbra, my brother definitely doesn’t deserve you. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re also an amazing cook.”

  Her cheeks grow pink. “Confession time.”

  “What?”

  “The chicken Marsala was mine and being from Indiana, I make a killer green-bean casserole; however, the cannoli, not so much. They came from that great little bakery on Mulberry Street.” She turns to Shana. “I had Duncan go pick them up for you.”