by Erin Zak
I want Francesca to know me, to understand where I was coming from, where I am going, and why everything that happened frightened me to the point of pushing her away. I close my eyes and take a quick breath as I try to pump myself up. I can do this. I can explain this to her. “Losing you was hard,” I say, and my voice sounds almost foreign to me. Emotion starts to bubble in my throat and causes an ache in my chest. “I know what heartbreak is, and I knew I didn’t want to go through it or put you through it, but I was scared. The only thing I could do was run. And when I finally figured out that fear caused me to act the way I did, I knew I needed to be true to myself, no matter the cost.”
“Shocking how we figure things out when faced with fear and sadness.”
“It really is.”
Even though her eye makeup is slightly smeared from her long night bartending, she looks incredible. Ever since I kicked her out of the suite six months ago, I have thought about her eyes and her smile. Everything about her makes me weak, but those gorgeous eyes are so hard to handle. “I want to kiss you so badly right now.”
The sharp intake of breath from her worries me. What does it mean? Is she feeling the same thing, or is her heart holding her back? I would understand if it is… She needs to stay guarded for her own sanity. I’m sad if that’s the case, but I completely get it. Coming back from a broken heart isn’t easy. The only reason my heart was damaged was from my inability to trust her and be honest with everyone else at the same time. Either way, finding a way back from that heartache has been ridiculously difficult. I’ve often wondered how anyone can survive heartbreak. I don’t know how Francesca survived two. The first seemed bad enough, and then I came along and did just as much damage. If not more. The thought, as conceited as it sounds, causes me to cringe.
I pull my gaze from her. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.”
“I never stopped loving you, Cecily.”
Her voice is shaky. I don’t look at her for fear of seeing her cry. I’ve learned quickly that seeing her cry is the perfect way for me to cry. I don’t want to seem weak now, even though weakness in this moment wouldn’t be a bad thing. I fear her seeing it would make her think I don’t sympathize, that I don’t get the damage me not trusting her caused. I do get it, and I do know what her apprehension means. She’s not going to fall back into things with me until she knows without a shadow of a doubt that I am not going to hurt her again.
Once was too many times.
Twice would probably break us both.
“I love you,” I say softly. And I realize it’s the first time I’ve actually said those words to her. “I loved you then. And I never said it. I felt like it was too soon. Too fast. Too much was riding on those three words. But I felt it…in my stomach, in my heart, in my soul. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. I was so stupid and much more broken than I realized. Not because of you.” I pause, roll my lips together, and gather my words. “Not because of you…I put myself through hell for years because I was so afraid of being honest with myself. And then I found you. And…it was like finding you made me see how much easier it is to breathe using both lungs. You make me feel whole.” I take a deep breath. “And then I fucked everything up.”
Her eyes widen. “Did you just use the word you hate? Without me asking you to?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
She places her arm around me, across my back, and pulls herself closer. “I promise you, I’ll let you know when I’m ready. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Please don’t think I don’t want to,” she whispers against my ear. “I want nothing more than to fall back into you as hard as I did the first time.”
I nod.
“I need you to understand, though, that I’m not going to stop falling this time. So, please, please, please don’t hurt me again.”
I turn my head to look at her, and she smiles and lays her head down. I lean forward and kiss her forehead. The scent of her hair products brings back a flood of memories.
The chair…the window…the bed…everything in Vegas reminds me of how easy everything had always been with her. The sex, which was fun and freeing. And laughter came easily. And baring my soul was just as natural as breathing. She became part of me without trying, and I want her back, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure I never screw things up again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cecily
Francesca left around four in the morning. I asked her to stay, but she declined, saying it was probably best if we didn’t fall right back into each other’s arms quite yet.
I agreed.
Even though everything in me told me to disagree.
Holding her last night felt so amazing. I didn’t want to say good-bye to her again, but she was right. We have both been through a lot in the past, leading up to where we are now. I was ready to jump right back into her headfirst. I knew it was slightly reckless. Seeing her, smelling her, feeling her, all of it was hard to say no to…I wondered how she was able to stay so strong.
While her ability to stand firm was a little irritating, it was also very impressive. She said she didn’t want to screw this up again. She didn’t want us to jump back into this if we weren’t ready. I know I’m ready, but maybe she’s not. After all, she did get her heart broken by Willow and by me.
The thought of me breaking her heart makes me want to vomit. I can’t believe how careless I was. My stupid insecurities always get the best of me. The idea of her falling for me without an ulterior motive was something I couldn’t wrap my mind around. So my stupid brain jumped at the fact that she had to have known about me. That it was all made up. That everything we shared was built on lies.
When my times with Francesca were some of the most real and intimate moments I had ever experienced. My relationship with her was authentic. It was built on raw honesty, which was hard to believe then. Now I can see how wonderful and perfect it really was. I wish I hadn’t been so dumb, but I still had so much to learn about myself and who I really was. This Cecily is not at all the same as my former self. I am stronger, more self-confident, and definitely ready for whatever life brings me. And I’m thrilled that the next portion of my life has started with mending things with Francesca.
I just hope she feels the same way about me.
“So she’s meeting us for breakfast here?”
I look over at Brenda. We’re sitting at a table at Mon Ami Gabi, the restaurant in the Paris casino. “Yes, and I still need to talk to you about what you did.”
“Wait a second. You cannot be angry at me. I did all of that because for the past six months, you’ve been a hot mess, and she is the reason.”
I reach across the table and place my hand on hers. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Oh.” She takes a breath and laughs. “I thought you were going to read me the riot act.”
“No,” I say softly. “I want to thank you for…well, for sticking your neck out there for me. Judging by her reacting to us being there last night, your encounter with her really could have gone either way.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m serious, Bren. Thank you.”
“So your conversation went okay?”
I nod and pull my hand away so I can pick up my coffee. I blow on the hot liquid before sipping it. “I think so. I mean, we spent most of the night talking.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You just talked?” She rolls her eyes. “I was hoping for more juicy details.”
“Brenda!” I laugh. “No, we didn’t do anything else. I mean, I wanted to, but—”
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.”
“So what’s on our agenda tonight?”
As she asks, I spot Francesca maneuvering through the tables toward us on the outside seating area. She waves when she sees me, and I smile and wave back. When she gets to the table, she leans down and kisses me on the lips. She pulls away, and her eyes are wide. “I’m so sorry,” she whispe
rs. “I don’t know…Wow. I’m sorry.” She is adorable.
“Stop. You don’t have to be sorry.”
“Do I get a kiss? Geez.” Brenda laughs along as she tries to break the tension.
“Sure,” Francesca says as she leans down and kisses Brenda on the cheek. “I didn’t mean to leave you out.” As Francesca sits, the server swoops over and takes her order of a Bloody Mary, a coffee, and a water. “I’m tired, thirsty, and it’s New Year’s Eve.” She shrugs. “Better start drinking now.”
“That’s a great idea, actually. I’ll take a mimosa.”
“So will I.” I smile when the server chuckles.
“Now we’re talking, ladies,” he says as he rushes away.
“Sorry I’m late. I was trying to figure out logistics with Max and Armando for meeting up later.” She smiles at me. “Do you two have plans for this evening?”
“We were literally just going to discuss that.” I smile.
She places her hand on the back of my chair. “Will you come with us?”
I glance at Brenda. She’s smiling ear to ear and gives me a nod. When I look back to Francesca, I smile. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to twist your arm,” she says while chuckling.
“Well, I mean, I guess we’ll go with you.”
“You guess, hmm?” Francesca leans back and shakes her head. “I guess I can find someone else to spend my evening with if you don’t want to.” We all laugh together as our drinks are delivered. I watch Francesca over the rim of my mimosa. She winks at me, and I know she’s teasing.
“We’re going with you,” Brenda says quickly. “No questions asked.”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what I thought.”
After we place our order, we fall into an easy conversation about work and how busy the casino bartending life has been. She tells me about her promotion, about the increased responsibility. She jokes about how maybe now she can retire by the time she’s seventy. We all laugh, but I can see a thread of truth behind her words.
I find myself wanting to help her, to take care of her. I know that sentiment will go over like a lead balloon, so I keep those thoughts to myself. Who knows what our future holds? This relationship may never go beyond the city limits of Las Vegas. We may never have more than these two weekends. And the stolen moments when I come here for work. I don’t want that. I want more. I want a life with her, I want to introduce her to my friends, I want her to meet my parents, even though they’ll flip out and hate that I’m with a woman. I want her to see the beauty of Chicago in the spring, the amazing way the city feels in the summer, the weird warmth of the first blanket of lake-effect snow as we hunker down and watch the freezing Lake Michigan from behind double-paned glass.
The way my heart swells when I think about a future with her is scary. I was with Luke since high school, and I never once got excited about a night in with homemade popcorn and a bottle of wine. And now all I can think about is how do I get Francesca to fall back in love with me so hard that she wants to come home with me?
Is that even an option for her?
Would she leave her life with the lights and sparkles and night shifts with beer spilled on her Manolo Blahniks?
“So are you even going to ask me how Willow got fired?”
I’m drinking when she asks that question, and I breathe in so fast, I choke on mimosa. I’m covering my mouth, and she’s chuckling at me as I cough. Brenda has joined in on the laughter, and I flip both of them off for not caring. “Y’know, I could have died,” I say between coughs. “You two are the worst.”
“I never said I was an EMT.” Brenda laughs again as she high-fives Francesca.
“Oh my God, you are going to gang up on me now? Not cool.”
“I am going to side with Francesca on this one, Cecily. Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Brenda shows off an awkward smile and shrugs. “I, for one, am super excited to hear how she got canned.”
Francesca laughs after she finishes her Bloody Mary. The server rushes over before she can start her story, and she orders another. She shrugs after he leaves. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”
We all raise our glasses and clink them as we laugh. “You’ve very right,” I say with a laugh. “Okay, so spill the beans.”
“Well, in true Willow style, she was caught having sex with one of her new recruits. In the bathroom.”
“The bathroom?” I gasp. “That’s awful.”
“Oh, please, don’t act like she never got you in the bathroom.” Francesca squints at me, waiting for me to crack as she points at me while she holds her freshly delivered drink. “Come on.” She smiles as I feel myself beginning to crack. “Aha!”
I let out a low chuckle before I down the rest of my mimosa. “So? Is it a crime?”
“Well, here it is.” Francesca shrugs.
“Jesus. How many people did she bang since she’s been here?” Brenda asks as she leans forward, intrigue written all over her face. I hate to admit it, but I’m also intrigued. I don’t really want to know. What if it’s a big number? I already feel less than special because of how quickly she moved on to Francesca…how not special am I going to feel when I find out it was—
“I think six since me, maybe seven.”
I can feel my mouth hanging open, so I close it before either of them can comment. “Wow.” I am staring at my empty flute. I want another. Now. But I don’t want to be that customer who needs something so I don’t have a breakdown. I lean back and clench my fists as my hands lie in my lap. I think I might start crying if I’m spoken to. Or maybe I’ll scream or punch someone or something or pick up a plate and throw it across the room.
“Cecily?”
Or maybe I will just send Willow a text and tell her what a fucking piece of shit she is for wrecking my life, for ruining my marriage, for making me question everything about myself and who I am and who I love and who I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“Cecily?”
I glance up from my empty glass at Brenda. “Huh?”
“You okay?”
I feel her hand on my knee. She squeezes lightly. She knows me so well. I am sure my cheeks are red from anger. It’s the first thing that happens when I’m mad or upset. My cheeks. Then if I allow myself, I will start hyperventilating…and then the vomit. I nod. “I’m good.”
Francesca places a hand on my forearm and pulls my arm gently until she has my hand in hers. “You’re the prettiest one of them all.”
I snap my head to her and realize as soon as my eyes land on hers that she’s joking. I feel my shoulders relax. “You’re a jerk.”
She smiles at me as she brings my hand to her lips. She kisses my knuckles, never taking her eyes from mine. “Don’t let her ruin you again,” she whispers against my hand and then kisses the same spot again.
I blink the tears away and force myself to breathe. I don’t want to lose control, but I have questions. Inconsequential questions, but I need to know. “I really wasn’t special, was I?”
Francesca’s shoulders slump, and she tilts her head as she looks at me. She glances at Brenda before she leans closer to me. “You are incredible and so much more than special. You are the reason I’m okay, why I’m not sitting in my condo with the curtains drawn watching reruns of Frasier.”
“Seriously? Frasier?” Brenda whispers, and we all laugh.
“I love Roz. Shut up.” Francesca squeezes my hand. “Willow Carmichael deserves every single thing that comes her way. Including the firing. Including you leaving before she could fuck you up even more. Including me finally being able to say I survived her. We survived all of it. Maybe not together, but hey, we made it.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
“Fuck yeah, she is. Willow is not good enough for either of you two amazing women.” Brenda sits a little straighter. “I never liked her anyway.”
“Oh, really?” Francesca asks as she adjusts herself so she’s facing Brenda more. “And how do you feel about me?”
�
��Well, considering I begged you to please give my beautiful sister a chance to explain, something she is not good at doing, I think it’s safe to say I think you’re pretty awesome. I mean, I hardly know you, but you at least have lips, which Willow did not.”
Francesca lets out a laugh, and I can’t help but join in. “Brenda!”
“Well?” She shrugs. “I mean, I’m not wrong.”
“She’s not wrong at all.” Francesca takes my hand one last time and squeezes. “Let’s have a good day together. No more Willow.”
“Ever again,” Brenda says under her breath.
I laugh as I raise the mimosa the server brought to me without being asked. I smile at him, and he winks as he rushes away. “Ever again.”
Later, in the safety of my suite, I’ll allow myself to cry over the loss of Willow. I loved her for four years. I know the hurt went both ways. She waited for me for so long, and I would never have left Luke for her. And when I finally made the move, it was too late. But it was too late for good reason. As much as Willow might have been one of the great loves of my life, I simply wasn’t meant to spend forever with her. And I guarantee she feels the same way about me. Or at least I hope she does…either way, I feel my heart close the door to Willow Carmichael, and for the first time in years, I feel a weight lift from my shoulders that was always too heavy to carry.
Francesca
“Do you ever gamble when you’re here?” I ask.
“I mean, aside from going for drinks with you the first time we met?”
I glance over at Cecily as we walk up and down the rows of table games on the Paris casino floor. “Well played. Very well played,” I say with a smile. “I’m impressed.”
She laughs as she rounds a corner to a row of slot machines and sits at one called Blazing Sevens. She slips a twenty in and hits max bet. “This is only the second time I’ve been here by myself. The first couple were with Luke and then Brenda.” She motions to Brenda, who has found herself a slot machine a few rows over.