Who was she? Girlfriend? Wife? The thought of it makes me feel like a cold hand has wrapped itself around my throat and started squeezing. Was he married that whole time at the lodge?
“PIPPA!”
It’s distant, but it’s him. Unmistakably him. My heart jumps into my throat and I stop dead in my tracks. This is fight or flight. Every ounce of my brain is telling me to move forward. Every piece of my heart is telling me to turn around and find him. I’m vaguely aware of the coffee cup slipping from my hand as I stand there, frozen to the spot.
Tick, tock.
Seconds roll by, but they feel like hours. The cup hits the floor in slow motion. A coin jumps out and rolls away, coming to rest between two cobblestones. Still-warm coffee splashes everywhere, spattering thick, dark droplets across the tailored pants and bare legs of the street revelers all around me.
“PIPPA!”
Closer now.
His voice finally spurs me to action, and flight wins out. I dive into the crowd ahead of me, gripping my backpack tighter, ducking and weaving as best I can to get away.
“Sorry,” I say, every few steps. “Coming through. Sorry!”
The end of the street is in sight, now. I can turn left, and if the road is less crowded than this one, I can be in the next back-alley in seconds. There has to be a dumpster or something I can hide behind.
There’s a gaggle of people outside one of the bars, taking a photo, and even in my current state I’m polite enough to stop and wait for them to take their picture. How much difference will a few seconds make?
“Pip.”
A lot of difference.
I’m frozen again. His voice came from right behind me. I could turn right now and look at his beautiful face, but how can I? What will I say? Every inch of my body is tingling with adrenaline, and there’s a lump rising in my throat. In all my twenty-four years, I’ve never been so thrilled and so scared at once.
“Pippa.”
There’s an edge to his voice this time, an insistence, and I know that he won’t take no for an answer. My eyes close, and I squeeze them hard before opening them and taking a deep breath. And then, of all the things I could say and all the things I could do—from slapping him across the face to falling into his arms—I choose the worst possible option.
Aiden
“Where did she go?” I demand of the man outside, who blows a thick plume of smoke and steam out of the side of his mouth. I must look frantic, swiveling my head around as I try to find her.
He stares at me, blankly.
“The girl!” My voice is louder and more insistent than strictly necessary. “She was here just a minute ago. Blue eyes, dark hair, pretty. About this tall,” I say, holding a hand up at the middle of my chest.
His eyes look glassy, like he’s had a couple too many at his office Christmas party, and I briefly consider strangling him. Finally, as my question seeps into his brain, he lifts his cigarette and jabs it toward the narrow street that runs down along the side of the restaurant.
Muttering my thanks, I take off after her. Long strides carrying me around the corner, but I have to skid to a stop almost immediately. It really is busy in this part of town tonight. There are Christmas bauble earrings and Santa hats on almost everyone I look at, and lights flash between fir branches in every window, making the narrow alley light up like one big dance floor.
“Pippa!” I call, but the voices of the revelers and the music piping out of the bars drown me out.
I move a bit faster, shoving people out of the way left and right, my eyes frantically scanning the crowd for her. A glance behind me and I’m already halfway down the street. If I reach the end without finding her, I’m only going to have a fifty-fifty chance of turning the right way.
“PIPPA!” I shout louder, desperate now. My voice carries and my pace is such that people have started to make way in front of me, parting like a booze-soaked Red Sea.
They all move, left and right, clearing a path down the middle of the alley and allowing me to pick up my pace until I’m running, closer and closer toward the end of the street, where I might lose her forever for the second time. The cold air is burning my throat and lungs with every breath, and my head is spinning from the wine and the running.
Just as I can feel myself beginning to lose hope, right at the very end of the street, the crowd parts and the way is suddenly clear. Clear of everything but one small figure in a thick coat, carrying a heavy backpack, and… muddy combat pants?
“Pip?” I say, barely a few feet behind her. She’s stopped dead.
“Pippa,” I say again, between heavy breaths. I hear my own voice and there’s something a little harsh in it this time, something that demands she face me now that I’ve caught her fair and square. She turns around, slowly. I don’t know what I’m expecting her to say or do... but I certainly don’t expect what happens next.
With feigned surprise, she glances to me and then looks off to the side, not meeting my eye. “Oh hey, Aiden,” she says nonchalantly, as though she hadn’t even seen me back at the restaurant. I stare at her in disbelief. Is she… trying to be casual? I might buy it, if it weren’t for that little quaver in her voice.
After all the adrenaline, the way she’s trying to act like an ice princess while I’m standing here feeling everything at once, infuriates me.
“Are you trying to act cool?” I demand, sounding a bit like an asshole.
I regret it immediately. I’ve never been so happy, just seconds after never having been so terrified, and it’s messing with my composure. She looks down toward my feet, then up to my face again. I search her features for emotion, and I’m horrified to see tears glittering along her lower lids. Her bottom lip trembles, and she blurts out, half sobbing: “Your pants!”
“What?” I ask, confused. I follow her gaze down. The pale gray material is covered in dark blotches of wine, but that can’t be why she’s crying, right?
“Oh God. Jesus. Shit,” she’s saying, dabbing furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. She looks ridiculous. And adorable. “I’m crying!” she exclaims.
The sudden urge to reach out and pull her into a hug is overwhelming, but given her reaction to seeing me again, running off and then… whatever this is—I’m not sure it’d be welcome. There’s a group of people just ahead of her who look like they’ve been taking photos, and they’re starting to pay more and more attention to us.
“You have no room to talk about pants, little Pip,” I say, moving a little closer. Thankfully, I’ve got my voice back under control. I sound as happy to see her as I feel, and nothing like the dick who spoke a moment ago.
She looks down at her own pants, then up at me. I smile at her, and her face just breaks open with laughter. She’s tearful and snotty and captivating, and still going to town with her sleeve, dabbing at her watery eyes.
“Stop,” I say quietly, gently taking her arm and pulling it away from her face. I want to see her—and I’m afraid she might rub her perfect little nose away if she keeps this up.
She looks at me again, her huge blue eyes framed with dark lashes that glisten with captured tears. I reach up and push a stray hair out of her face, and she drops her head, almost bashful.
“Oh, God. I’m such a mess,” she says.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, crooking a finger under her chin and lifting her head so I can see her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a strained whisper.
“I just moved here.” I watch her head snap sharply upward, as though she’s looking for the lie in my face. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. I suspect the answer already, and I can hear the smile in my voice.
“I… I live here, too,” Pippa says, with a watery smile.
So I kiss her. And the onlookers cheer.
Pippa
I can scarcely believe it when he says he just moved here. Something inside me lifts and I return the smile he’s giving me, almost forgetting how mu
ch of an absolute mess I look. Scruffy, clay-covered pants, a coat that makes me look like the Michelin man, fingerless gloves, a huge backpack—oh, and a puffy, red, teary face, just to top off the look.
“I… I live here, too.”
I stammer out my reply to him, and suddenly I am warm and safe, floating on air. His lips are on mine, and it’s as though not a second has passed since that wonderful week in March. His tongue probes my mouth, his finger and thumb keep their grip on my chin a moment, before his hand goes to my shoulder and slips the heavy pack off it, as though it were light as a feather.
He tastes of wine and smells of masculine, musky aftershave. I place my hands on his shoulders as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and he rests a hand gently on my jawline, probing my mouth with his tongue.
I surrender to him, just the way I did that first night in the resort, my body leaning into him as my mind floats elsewhere, on another plane, brimming with happiness. I’m peripherally aware of the cheering crowd around us, but I can’t bring myself to feel self-conscious. He is beautiful, and this, this kiss, the way he holds me, the way he gently coaxes me to respond and let my tongue dance with his, feels so good I never want to be anywhere else. Not in all the many nights I fantasized about this moment did I ever expect it to be this perfect. This... right.
“AIDEN!”
He groans into my mouth and pulls his head back. I feel instantly exposed, and briefly flash an embarrassed smile to the people who are still clapping. And then, I see her.
Her.
From the restaurant. Standing there in a tailored coat, looking stunning, holding another coat—a man’s coat. Aiden’s coat? As she walks around to his side, she notices me and looks me quickly up and down. Her gaze moves around, taking in the scene. Aiden’s hand still on my jaw, the flushed pink of my lips, my arms around his shoulders. And she looks… amused.
“Lexi,” says Aiden, finally removing his hand from my jaw and leaving me feeling bereft as the cold night air moves in to take its place. I’m slightly reassured when he slides his hand down and pushes his fingers between mine, turning so that he’s standing by my side, facing her. I’m not sure I’m ready for whatever showdown is about to happen, though.
“You forgot your coat, darling,” says the blonde, holding it out to him on one perfectly manicured finger. Amusement sparkles in her eyes. He takes the coat with his free hand.
The second she calls him “darling,” I tense. He must sense it, because he squeezes my hand reassuringly.
“Thanks. Hey, Lexi, meet Pippa,” he says, looking to me. I glance up from where I’ve been admiring her killer kitten heels and smile timidly. I’m surprised to see her big, brown Bambi eyes go wide as she stares at me.
“Pippa?” she splutters, looking from me to Aiden and back again. She glances down at my pants again, but there’s very little I can do now to stop myself standing out like a sore thumb.
“Pippa Pippa?” she asks Aiden, still looking shocked. “From the resort?”
He gives a quick nod, grinning.
“Oh my God!” she says. She looks… delighted. “I don’t believe it!”
“Me either,” says Aiden.
“Me either,” I say, and the two of them laugh. I still have no clue who she is, so I’m a bit guarded as this intimidatingly beautiful woman stands there looking at me like I’m some sort of long-lost friend. I start to wonder if I’m the butt of some joke in an open relationship. But then again, I do have a habit of letting my imagination run wild—so I push the thought to the back of my mind and just stand there, waiting for someone to explain what the hell is going on.
“Pippa,” says Aiden. “This is my sister, Lexi. She’s staying in my apartment for a couple of days to help me get settled in.”
The relief that washes over me is palpable. I swear my shoulders sag a couple of inches as my body unties itself from the knot of tension it had twisted into, and my lips melt from a forced grin to a genuine smile.
“Oh. Oh! Hey!” I manage, not really knowing what else to say—and not knowing why her reaction to me being “Pippa Pippa” was so enthusiastic. That has to be a good thing, right?
She looks from Aiden to me again, and then takes a step back, as though she suddenly feels like an intruder.
“Well I need to settle the check,” she says, still beaming. “It was great to meet you, Pippa. I hope we meet again.” She looks to Aiden. “Get her number this time, idiot.”
Aiden shoos her away, but she’s already heading down the street, taking the cobblestone with ease even in her three-inch heels, and the crowds are parting for her as she goes.
“She does make a good point,” says Aiden, turning back to me.
“Mhmm,” I grin. I’ve finally found a little equilibrium in the chaos. “But we have a tradition,” I say, and he lets out a half-laughing groan.
I had forgotten how gorgeous he was until I saw him again. He’d faded with time in my memory, but now that he’s here I can’t bear to look away from him.
“Tell you what,” I say, ducking down to my backpack. I take out a notepad and pen and start writing out my studio’s address. “I have to get home right now, because I’ve promised my roommate I’ll make a lasagne, and she’s been working crazy hours.
“Oh, Vicky, right? Something with a V?” he asks, looking amused.
“Something like that,” I say, recalling the moment in the cabin when I accidentally let slip that little snippet about life back home, and then demanded he forget it immediately. I finish scribbling the note and hand it to him.
“This is where I work. I’m there every day until at least five. Come by and see me.”
“You’re not giving me your number?” he asks, incredulous, as he scans the note and pockets it.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I ask. “And besides. I feel like you have to work for it now, after making me think you were dating some stunning blonde.”
Aiden looks puzzled for a moment, and then realization dawns on his face. “Oh! You thought…” he looks over his shoulder in the direction that Lexi disappeared. “Wow. Okay.” He looks back down at me, and he’s smirking a little. I can tell that my disappearing act and terrible attempt at an ice queen routine suddenly make a lot more sense to him.
“I can hardly be held accountable for your overactive imagination,” he says.
“Yes you can,” I correct him. “And you are. And besides, it’s more fun this way.”
“Pippa,” he says, seriously. All humor has gone from him as he takes my hand. I feel my heart beating hard inside my chest, and the casual air I’ve been trying to hold is faltering on my face. “Swear to me this is the right address, or so help me I will kidnap you from this very spot and chain you up in my new apartment. I can’t lose you again.”
He speaks so candidly and mirrors my own fears back at me in such high definition that it’s hard to keep looking at him. I want to jump in a cab with him and disappear into the sunset so badly that his offer of kidnap is almost tempting. But I have to take things slowly this time and not jump in head first. Living in the same city - maybe even the same neighborhood - is a very different deal than a week-long vacation fling.
I push up to the very tips of my toes and place my hand on the side of his face. He indulges me, leaning down, and I press a soft kiss to his lips
“I swear.”
“Fine,” he sighs, stealing a last kiss. “Can I get you a cab? Walk you somewhere?”
I shake my head, grinning stupidly. No. I want to savor this, and the walk home will let me mull over every precious detail. “Thanks, but I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or whenever. Right?” Grabbing my backpack, I heave it up over my shoulder.
“Not tomorrow,” he says, looking apologetic. “Sorry, Pip. First day at my new office. Wednesday? Dinner?” he asks. “Pick you up at this place,” he pats the pocket where he stashed the note. “Say, eight?”
“It’s a date!”
I turn around and start
walking, somehow resisting the urge to look back. Swollen as they are, I have to trust my feet to carry me home—because my head is already in the clouds.
Aiden
December 12, 2018
Yesterday, my first day in the office, did not go well. Not as well as I’d hoped it would, at least. I’m the newest equity partner, the existing partners having taken a chance on me based on the reputation and client base I managed to build up in Chicago, and these next few months are going to be crucial for me in making sure they don’t regret that decision. How the hell I’m going to pull that off is anyone’s guess, if yesterday is anything to go by.
Thank God for Valerie. She’s the associate whose job it is to bring me up to speed and merge my clients into the firm, and she’s smart as a whip. She’ll make partner in no time. She probably thinks I’m a moron, given how many times she’s caught me daydreaming in my office, staring out of the window. Pippa has been on my mind ever since I saw her face in the restaurant window on Monday evening, and I can barely think of anything else. I can’t wait to see her tonight.
Today, Wednesday, I’ve decided to be more proactive. Stepping out of my huge, open corner office, I stride down a short corridor and into the room that Valerie shares with another couple of associates. The door is open, and she’s on the phone with her back to me.
“How about that little black dress with the lace trim?” she says into her phone. “You can borrow my Louboutins if you like. They’re in my closet. Top shelf.” One of the other associates has looked up from her desk and noticed me standing in the doorway, and I can see her looking to Valerie, trying to tell her with wide eyes that the new boss just walked in.
Valerie doesn’t notice. There’s a pause, presumably as whoever is on the other end of the line responds, and then she speaks again. “Well you have a few hours. Just practice a bit in front of the mirror.” Another pause, and she sighs. “Alright, well there’s some Viviers there that are not too high. Just have a look and see what’s comfortable. Borrow whatever you like. But I want you to know you’d have looked killer in the Loubou—”
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