One Moment at a Time

by K. S. Thomas

  My legs give out and I collapse to the floor. “No.”

  “This meth head went crazy, barreled his way inside the jewelers and started waving a gun around, screaming for money and how he was going to rob the place. People said he looked insane, he was so desperate for a fix. The manager tried to calm him down, told him he could have whatever he wanted, but the guy started freaking out. Next thing, they said he just started shooting. Seven people were shot. Two died. One of them jumped into the line of fire to save a man and his daughter.” Her voice gives out and I can hear her sniff repeatedly. “Ben died a hero. It was on the news. We all saw it. God, Ky. I wasn’t even going to tell you. I was just going to let you live in ignorant bliss. It seemed kinder somehow. But then...”

  I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t even think. Everything is operating on autopilot. It’s the only reason the next two words come out of my mouth. “Then what?”

  “His brother, Will, called me this morning. Said the jeweler got in touch with him and he didn’t know who else to call.” She sobs, and the pain of it rips my heart out of my chest in anticipation of the blow I know will follow in what she says next. “Ben didn’t have a chance to buy the ring before he was shot...but the jeweler wanted to see through what Ben started and make sure the ring wound up with the woman it was intended for. A woman, he said, Ben referred to only as... Ky.”

  Tears are streaming down my face, but I only notice because I can’t see when Geoff and Jess come hurrying in. I can hear them though. A muffled sound of noises. They’re concerned. One of them is rubbing my arms. Shaking me. Trying to get me to respond. But I can’t.

  I can’t do anything.

  It’s like I’m paralyzed by this moment, unable to escape it. Unable to move to the next. Because here in this moment, everything changes. My whole world is in ruins.

  Geoff’s voice gets quieter. Danelle’s voice has already disappeared.

  I blink until at last I can make out shapes again.

  “He’s dead,” I breathe.

  “Who’s dead?” Jess. She’s the one that’s been on the floor with me. “Babe, what’s going on. Talk to me.”

  “Ben.” I stare blankly across the room until they catch on a pair of shiny black loafers I know belong to Geoff. “He was killed. Shot in a robbery.”

  “Oh, honey.” Geoff’s voice travels as I watch his feet move closer to me. “What can we do?”

  “Let the moment pass,” I whisper. Because it will. Every moment does. Nothing lasts forever. Not even this pain. Not if I don’t hold onto it.

  Numb to everything, I stand up and move across the room to the table with the flowers. Red roses. A couple here to celebrate their anniversary gave them to me after the show.

  I pull a single one from the bouquet and get a pad of paper from my bag, along with a pen, and I go back to sit at my makeup station.

  I can hear Geoff and Jess in the distance, clearing the dressing room, asking the others to give me space. Everyone’s hissing and whispering and gasping in shock, but I don’t listen. I let it pass.

  Then, I take a breath.

  And I begin to write.

  Ben,

  I think it’s time we admitted some things. You and me, we’re soulmates. Or some shit. God, I can’t believe that was your opening line, any more than I can believe I was dumb enough to fall for it. Helped, of course, that I saw you the night before when I came in to see Danelle. One look at you and I was begging her to give me a job. Shocking, right? That it turns out, I’m the one that’s been chasing you all this time?

  Time to return the favor, Ben.

  Be the leaving sort, just this once. Take a chance. Follow me to France. Come find me.

  I know what you’re thinking, that’s a journey that could end up taking a lifetime. Or, I could be just a moment away.

  Find out, Ben.

  It’s the only way we’ll find the happy ever after we’ve both been looking for.

  Love, Ky

  epilogue

  KY

  “I’m Josh.” I hear a deep voice say, following the sound of someone pulling the chair out and having a seat across from me, all of which interrupt my thoughts and bring me back to the present moment. One I was busy escaping.

  I don’t even look up. “You know, Josh, nothing impresses me more than a man who knows his own name.”

  “If that’s the case, you should really consider raising your standards.”

  Officially amused, I raise my eyes to meet his. They’re pretty. Beautiful even. Dark brown with flecks of light that shine gold in the sun, framed by thick black lashes that curl at the ends. I’ve known women who paid big bucks for lashes like God gave him.

  Hell, I’ve known men, too.

  “What can I do for you today, Josh?” I ask, placing the cap on my pen and folding the paper I was about to write on.

  He grins. “You don’t recognize me, do you.”

  I frown. “Should I?”

  He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “You could. You’ve only seen me here every New Year’s Day for the last ten years.” He chuckles. “Or maybe you haven’t seen me. And I’ve just been seeing you all this time.”

  I sit up a little taller, letting my gaze shift uncomfortably around the coffee shop. I have been coming here every New Year’s Day for the last decade. The only day of the year I walk in here, sit at this table by the window, write my letter and drink my coffee. “I’m sorry, do you work here?” I ask, trying to understand why this man knows of a ritual I deem sacred.

  “I do not.” He points at the building across the street. “I work there.”

  It’s a nightclub. Has been for as long as I can remember. “You’re up early for a bartender.” But not so early that he’s still up either.

  “Not a bartender,” he corrects, sipping his coffee. Then he smirks. “You should go during daylight hours sometime. NaKiseLa is an art gallery by day.”

  “I did not know that.” I’m embarrassed to say. “So, you’re an artist? Curator?”

  “Owner.” He tips her head from shoulder to shoulder, grinning. “Which sounds more official than collector. Mostly, I just needed a legitimate reason to keep traveling and bringing home more cool stuff.”

  I study him for a moment. “Is that what brings you over to my table this morning? Your interests in collecting more cool stuff?”

  He gets unexpectedly serious. “I don’t collect women, if that’s what you’re implying.” He clears his throat. “I’m here because I’ve watched you sit here and stare out that window every January first for the last decade. And this time, is the very first, I haven’t had to watch you cry.”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip, feeling suddenly very exposed. “I didn’t realize anyone noticed.”

  “Hard not to.” He wraps both hands around his cup and rests them on the table, leaning forward as he lowers his voice a bit, I assume for my privacy’s sake. “Hard not to feel a bit helpless watching, too. I never wanted to intrude. Best I could come up with was to send you a chocolate chip cookie.” He grins sheepishly. “It’s what my mom did anytime I was upset as a kid. Always helped.”

  “Those cookies were from you?” The surprise of his gesture outweighs my discomfort over feeling so vulnerable. “I had no idea. All this time, I thought they were complimentary. Like a New Year’s special or something.”

  A smile dances in his eyes. “You didn’t notice you didn’t get one this year?”

  “I mean, I did.” I look away, unable to hold his gaze, and start to fiddle with my napkin instead. “I really liked those cookies.”

  “I could be persuaded to order you another,” he offers.

  “If?”

  “If you tell me your name.”

  I take a breath and calmly blow it out before I answer, “It’s Kylie. But everyone just calls me Ky.”

  His hand reaches across the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ky.”

  I move my palm to meet his and shake. “The pleasure is all mine.�
� I smile, releasing his grip. “Now about that cookie.”

  He laughs but gets up from the table just the same. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watch as he makes his way to the counter to order and I’m pleased to see he returns not only with one but an entire bag of assorted cookies.

  “You know, that really wasn’t necessary,” I say as I start to poke around inside the bag to explore my options.

  “Oh, but I think it was.” He waits for his turn then selects a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie for himself. “See, I had an ulterior motive here.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, breaking my chocolate peanut butter cup cookie in half.

  “To keep you talking. To me.” The corner of his mouth curves up in the most adorable half grin I’ve seen in a long while.

  “Cookies were a great course of action then,” I agree. “I am always happy to talk over cookies. Especially to men who know their own names.”

  “Again,” he teases, “raise your standards, woman, I have way more going for me than that.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I relax into my seat a little more. “Let’s hear it, big shot? What are you all about?”

  And he tells me. And I listen. And then, he insists on listening to me while I talk. And talk. Talking turns to laughing. Lots of laughing. Some crying. But mostly, it leads to a connection I haven’t felt with anyone new in years.

  “So, Ky, what are your plans beyond coffee today?” Josh asks, as we both begin to stand from the table, having demolished the cookies and coffee a while ago.

  “I’m not much for plans,” I admit, collecting my paper and pen and placing them back in my bag. Only now do I realize I never got around to writing my letter this morning. A first in years.

  “Maybe you’d like to join me for lunch then?” he asks, a hopeful brow arching up his forehead.

  I hesitate to answer, hitching my bag up over my shoulder before I get to my feet. Then, just as I go to open my mouth, I can feel it. The chain sliding down my stomach. A tiny clinking sound follows as the ring hits the tile floor at my feet. For a moment, I’m frozen in place, staring down at it.

  When Josh starts to crouch down to retrieve it, I snap out of my trance.

  “No.” I stop him. “Leave it.”

  He looks surprised, but slowly begins to stand upright again. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I take deep breath. “And, I’d love to join you for lunch.”

  Josh smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He holds his hand out for me to take.

  And, I do.

  “Wait,” Ben calls out from behind me. I’m almost shocked he followed me. It’s not his style.

  “No.” I keep my eyes cast forward and continue marching my way down the sidewalk as if nothing could sway me. Not even him. It’s a lie, of course. Ben can always sway me. He just doesn’t seem to know it yet.

  “What?” He sounds equally outraged as he does surprised.

  “I’m not waiting,” I call back. “The waiting portion of my life is over, Ben. I’ve moved on to the doing part. So, either get on with it or get out of it. Either way, I’m done waiting. Especially for you.”

  He catches up to my side and clasps my palm with his.

  “At least slow down a little,” he says softly, tugging me to a gentle stop. “I’m not always going to be as fast as you, Ky. Doesn’t mean I’m not coming.”

  I shake my head, desperate to keep from making eye contact for too long. “Never feels like you are.”

  “Ky,” he whispers, stepping in closer to me. “It’s New Year’s. You’re dressed in a ballgown. Just for a moment, can’t we just stop all the bullshit, and accept what is, even if it’s not perfect and even if it won’t last past midnight?”

  I can hear the chant of a countdown coming from inside NaKiseLa, an entire crowd of people counting back. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

  “Fine,” I breathe, my body moving closer to his. “Just for a moment. No games.”

  Six. Five. Four.

  “No games.”

  Three. Two. One.

  His lips meet mine and for one beautiful, sacred moment, everything is as it should be.

  Then...

  The moment passes.

  THE END

  Enjoyed One Moment at a Time? You may also enjoy Bittersweet ~

  Chapter One

  Esi

  My name is Esi Harper. Well, it’s Esidora Maelyn Harper, to be more specific. Over the years I’ve learned to be less specific and just sort of gloss over things. Like when people ask me what my mother does, I say, ‘she owns a quaint little gift shop downtown’. Or, when they want to know about my father, ‘he died in the line of duty’. When they ask about my job, ‘I’m a grief counselor’. Those answers are sufficient in satisfying most curiosities, and generally spare people the details they sometimes aren’t equipped to handle. Like my name. What a fucking mouthful.

  So, it was clear to me I’d found my match, when I came face to face with the man I was meant to marry and he introduced himself not as Jonathan James Carter, as was his name, specifically, but rather, simply said, ‘Carter’.

  In the seven years we’ve known each other, the only time we’ve ever called one another our entire names was earlier this morning when we exchanged our vows, which true to us had been simple, straightforward and frankly, lovely.

  “So, this is married Esi.” My sister, Lev, makes a face. And just because I know you’re wondering, it’s Levinora.

  “What, you don’t like married Esi?” I crinkle my nose, slightly confused by her distaste of my new marital status.

  “It’s not that. You just look so fucking happy.” She shakes her head at me in disgust. Then she grins.

  “You’re a jackass.” I give her a whack with my bouquet for good measure.

  “Hey, be gentle with that! I worked hard on it and I expect to win it back by the end of this little shindig.” Days like today it comes in handy having a florist for a sister. Thanks to her, exchanging vows felt like a brief moment of living a real-life fairy tale as I stood there with Carter underneath the most beautiful archway wrapped in jasmine and honeysuckle vines, adorned with roses, hydrangea, orchids, lisianthus and lilies.

  I cock my brow suspiciously. “You want to catch the bouquet? You do know what catching it implies, don’t you? It means you’re next in line for a trip down the aisle.” Settling down hasn’t actually popped up on my sister’s radar yet, as far as I know. Lev is barely a year older than me, and with the same dark brown hair that shines auburn in the sun, people have mistaken us for twins more than a few times over the years. It’s funny really. For all the ways we look the same, we are completely different in every other way imaginable. Especially regarding things such as men and marriage. Or, so I had thought anyway until just now.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Esi. You know damn well I don’t believe in stupid superstitions. I just want my bouquet back.” Scratch that. I was right the first time.

  I feel my brow crinkle, still a bit confused, but now for a very different reason. Lev certainly hasn’t ever lacked any confidence, but this is a bit of an ego maniac moment even for her. “That’s weird, by the way. I mean, I get it, you did an amazing job, but what are you going to do with it? Take it home and stare at it while reminding yourself over and over how awesome you are? Don’t you have those little post it notes stuck everywhere around your house for that?”

  She snorts. “Yeah. That’s what I’m going to do with it.” She gestures at something I can’t see because I’m facing in the wrong direction and right now can’t be bothered to turn and look at what I’m mentally dubbing ‘the wedding monster’. “This marriage business isn’t just making you annoyingly happy, it’s apparently making you stupid as well. Glad I found out now. That way I can be sure to avoid it.”

  Carter’s arms wrap around my waist as he comes up from behind me, clearly the target of Lev’s snotty expression and not the wedding monster like I’d thought. “What are you going to be sur
e to avoid?”

  I peek up at him over my shoulder. “Oh, you know, the usual. Love and all that other icky crap.”

  He nods, his face slowly lowering itself into the nape of my neck. “Of course. Yeah, definitely avoid it,” he mutters, gently tracing my skin with his lips in a way that makes me forget my sister is standing right next to me.

  “You guys are gross.” But she’s smiling at me when she walks away and disappears on the dance floor.

  “I like being gross with you,” Carter’s voice rumbles quietly in my ear. “In fact. I think we should get a lot grosser. Right now.” Considering how close he’s standing to me and the parts of him I can feel pressing to the parts of me, I don’t have to ask what he means by grosser.

  “Carter,” I scold dramatically. “Our reception isn’t even over. There’s people everywhere. And more importantly, we’re out in an open field.” A field we drove two hours out of the city for because it’s surrounded by nothing but more open green with mounting trees on one side and the river running alongside the other. It’s beyond stunning. No matter which way you turn, the view is uninhibited by a single man-made structure.

  “There’s always the car.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. Not the sexy way – is there a sexy way? Regardless, I’m laughing.

  “You’re nuts!”

  “So, that’s a yes then?”

  I glance around the crowd. Between the food and the live music, no one seems to be paying us any attention.

  I shrug and pick at the layers of satin and lace that make up my full-length ball gown dress. “If you can find my hoo-ha in all of this material, you’re welcome to it.”

  Carter smirks, that hot as hell sparkle of mischief blazing in his eyes. “Challenge accepted.”

  Clasping my hand tightly in his, he leads the way out of the wedding reception area and out toward the part of the field which has been deemed the parking lot. Having been among the first to arrive, our car is sitting unfortunately close to the party. However, if we manage to keep the volume level under wraps, there is a decent sized hedge acting as a barrier between the cars and the people, which should provide a reasonable amount of privacy.