“Umm… your eye is twitching.”
She shakes her head and peers down at me. “Never mind. Piper’s downfall will be on next month’s agenda. Right now, I need the account file for Parker’s Plaza. I have an idea.”
“Of course.” I stand, the key for the drawer in my hand, then pick up the note from my desk for her. “Your florist called while you were on the phone with Mr. Parker.”
She groans, grabbing the note. “What does she want? I swear, if she asks me what shade of pink I want, I’ll vomit. Did you know there are multiple options for blush? I thought it was its own single color.” Her eyes are wide with disbelief.
Giggling, I nod. “Blush, dusty pink, pink, something called vintage pink, and more.” I raise my finger. “Oh, and then there are so many different kinds of flowers that look similar too, but one is more expensive than the other. Be careful of that. Hydrangeas, for instance, are about three times the price of peonies. Peonies are pretty too, and you—I’m sorry. I’m blabbering on about flowers when you need a file. Be right back.” I start to turn, but she stops me.
“Wait, how do you know so much about flowers? I don’t remember reading you were a florist on your résumé.” She raises her eyebrows.
“I was married.” I shift from one foot to the other. “My divorce was actually finalized a little over a month ago. We were separated for a while, though, so it feels longer than that, to be honest.”
Standing up straighter, her arms fall to her sides. “I had no idea.”
“Yes, well, it’s not exactly the first thing I want to tell people about.” I give her a warm smile. “Anyway, if you want, I’m more than happy to help you with wedding planning. Just because my marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean I don’t want the best for yours, so I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“I appreciate it.”
My chest is heavy as I unlock the drawer of files and pull the one I need out.
What I said to her is nice and optimistic, and I meant it.
But the whole idea seems to be a lie.
For the last year, I’ve started to think true love doesn’t exist. That happily ever afters are saved for books and movies to exploit the idea and make money.
I wish I could believe otherwise, but after what happened with Dave and Aiden, it’s impossible to.
Aiden.
After I declined his offer for drinks, he answered with a simple, “Maybe next time.” My stomach fluttered—did he mean that? All night, I wondered if we might become friends again. If the universe throwing us together could be a second chance for us, but how?
So much happened between us. So much was left unsaid.
There’s still so much we haven’t shared.
By the time I finish everything on my list and get home, I’m exhausted, but I have to unpack the rest of my stuff. I’m tired of skirting around the mess while trying to get dressed in the mornings. There are only a couple boxes left now, anyway, and I open one with torn corners. It looks older than the rest.
And when I peek inside, I find notebooks I haven’t seen since college—I forgot I even had them.
My lips quiver as I run my fingers over the red cover of one.
I tentatively open the notebook like I’m opening the window to a messy past and flip to the first page of handwriting—my handwriting.
My head on the grass,
My heart in my throat,
The leaves of the trees stare back at me, yellow and orange for the season,
And I wait for them to fall as I wait for you to come.
But the longer I lie still,
the more distant you become.
The leaves—crumpled, torn, fragile—they’re my only company,
along with the wind grazing my cheek.
Covered in swirling specks of yellow and orange, I lie still,
and wait for you to come.
I turn page after page of poems, long and short. Many lines are crossed out and re-written. There are highlighted notes in the margins to tweak certain poems, but it looks like I never did.
I haven’t seen these in years. I haven’t even written anything new in that time. These poems feel like another lifetime. As if another me wrote them.
I stare at the words as the memories and overwhelming emotions come rushing back. Each line is etched into my notebook with a pen, but as I slowly remember writing them, I realize they were written with my tears.
Most of these poems were written when Aiden left.
After that, I lost my desire to write as I lost pieces of myself.
Of my heart.
The day before marrying Dave, I thought about Aiden. I sifted through our memories together, searching for the signs. Searching for answers. Grappling with the truth.
But the truth, no matter how much I denied it, was that Aiden didn’t want me—Dave did.
As for me, I… I was desperate.
I close the notebook and stare out the window. After all these years, all these forgotten moments, I’ve been forced to face the past more in the last couple weeks than I have since I married Dave.
The front door swings open, snapping me out of my trance, and I toss the book on my bed like it’s a bomb.
“Sage?” Naomi calls out, kicking the door shut behind her.
I step out of my bedroom, taking in the numerous colorful bags in her hands, and quirk my eyebrow. “You went shopping?”
I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Naomi isn’t the type to go shopping for anything other than scrubs. She says it’s a waste of time and money for her to buy street clothes since she rarely wears them.
She nods, setting the bags down with a thud like a few have bricks in them, which are probably only shoes. “I figured I should have other clothes in my closet in case we want to get drinks. Like tonight?”
“Tonight, what?”
“Maybe we can check out a cool bar?” One side of her lip barely tilts, and for her, that means she’s excited.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You never want to go out. What’s going on?”
She shrugs, dropping any hint of humor from her expression. “My last roommate always hung out with her boyfriend and never wanted to go out together, but you’re here now… I mean, it’s finally warming up enough to go outside without losing a toe to frostbite. You’ve been here for almost two months and haven’t experienced the fun side of this city.”
“I’ve done plenty of fun things.”
She places her hands on her hips. “You went to Central Park alone one afternoon and ate a hot dog. That doesn’t count.”
“It was a nice, cold day. I even got a hot coffee after.” I giggle as she rolls her eyes like I told her my top goal in life is to own a red sweater—boring. “Besides, you never want to hang out with me.”
She stands up straight, her teasing hint of a grin falling. “Sage, that’s not because of you.”
I bite my lip, fidgeting with my cuticles as the living room thickens with awkward tension. I didn’t mean to say it, but we’ve been dancing around the subject for so long, something was bound to slip.
“I work a million hours a week. New Yorkers know how to trample each other, especially cyclists. I’ve seen far too many injured cyclists in my life.” She sighs, lifting her neutral gaze to mine.
As an ER nurse, I’m sure she’s seen her fair share of traumas of various levels. What she’s saying sounds horrible and emotionally draining, but she’s good at remaining detached—too good, if I’m honest. And because of her guarded nature, I can’t read her to know where I stand.
“I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve been avoiding you. I’m really glad you’re here.”
I relax my shoulders. “Me too.”
“So? You in for going out tonight?” she asks, and I’m not surprised by how quickly we moved on. “Please?”
I could use a night out.
Dave rarely ever wanted to. He used to joke that he wanted me all to himself at home. I thought it was sweet, until he had too many
bourbons one night and confessed the real reason—he didn’t like drunk guys flirting with me.
I don’t have to think hard about Naomi’s offer. We’ve barely done more than cook and watch Netflix since I got here, and I think going out together will help us grow closer too. “Let’s do it. I think I know of a place too, but first”—I point to her bags—“you have to show me what you bought. I may need to borrow something.”
Again, one side of her lip tilts upward, and I start to feel the lightness of us already. Our apartment. Our life here.
I’m more and more giddy with every piece of clothing she pulls out of the bag, one at a time, and holds each up over her scrubs.
“Wait, wait.” I hold my hands up. “We need wine to do this fashion show right.”
“I like the way you think.”
With full wineglasses in our hands, she continues. I ooh and aah and laugh along to her story of the salesperson who insisted she buy a bright pink version of a dress because she bought so many in black or gray.
“Obviously, he didn’t sense my tone or notice the death glare I was giving him.” She rolls her eyes, which makes me laugh harder.
She’s always been the type to be on edge. Intense. Mysterious.
She’d be the perfect person to work for the police and go undercover—no one would ever catch on. I have yet to notice anything that excites her. Although, that’s likely what makes her a great nurse. She’s compassionate when needed, but she can also maintain a calm and detached façade under pressure.
She’s a different Naomi than I once knew.
When we were young, she’d parade me around like I was her doll. She’d be thrilled to dress me up and paint my nails. It was easy to pull a full-on laugh from her.
She was the big sister I never had.
Until we grew up and grew apart.
She and her family moved away for a while, and then she moved to New York for college. When they first moved, we tried to stay in touch, but she’s a few years older than I am. It was hard to keep track of thirteen-year-old me when Naomi was about to start college.
And being with Dave only added more tension to the mix.
But now, as two adults, we have the chance to redefine our relationship. The opportunity to become true friends.
“I think I’ll wear this with my leather jacket.” She holds up a black bodycon dress that reaches below her knees. “With my maroon booties.”
“Damn. I’ll be surprised if you come home alone tonight.” I wiggle my eyebrows as the slight buzz from my second glass of wine settles in.
“Wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace? For both of us.” She snorts, then sips the last of her wine. She picks up a low-cut, A-line black dress and shoves it toward me. “Wear this tonight, and we need to change stat. I’m so ready for a night out. I need to feel like I’m part of the regular world—it’s been too long.”
After we’re both changed, we reconvene in the living room. I hunch down as I run my hands down the sides of my dress. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve put on since my honeymoon, and I don’t feel like myself in it—it’s too much.
Naomi briefly assesses me and purses her lips. “Don’t try to hide. Wear that dress with the confidence I know you have. You look so great in it, I might even let you keep it. Might.” She holds her finger up, then heads to our coat rack for her leather jacket.
She’s stunning. Her hair is curly and loose, but she’s given it more volume. Her light brown skin, thanks to her dad, appears silky smooth. Coupled with her poised gait, I have no doubt she’ll make heads turn tonight.
Now, she’s certainly confident.
I’ve always been self-assured when it comes to my career, but with Dave, our lack of sex life the last couple years of our marriage took a toll on me personally.
I haven’t felt… hot in a while, but this bold dress is a good start to change that.
My chin high, I follow her out the door, grabbing my jacket on the way. In the cab ride to Hemingway House, she lends me her lipstick, and although it’s a darker shade than I normally wear, I like it. Using her compact mirror, I happily apply it as best I can in this shaky taxi.
When we arrive, we maneuver around the small crowd outside the door. A small puff of smoke surrounds a couple as they take a drag of their cigarettes, and another couple nudges each other, laughing. I get lost in the picture in front of me, soaking it all in, internally stringing together a few words like I used to.
Clouds of smoke… we hide behind them… but reality remains… one we have to face with…
Naomi grabs my hand, shaking me out of my thoughts, and pulls me inside.
“How did you find this place?” she asks. As we sit at the bar, she signals the bartender and orders two red wines for us.
“One of our clients mentioned it, and I thought it sounded cool.” I shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant and unaffected by the particular client I’m referring to. Shifting in my seat, I drag my gaze over the brown leather booths along the wall, to the small wooden tables of two in perfect rows on either side of the bar, and finally to the far corner where a small stage is set up with speakers and a microphone. Karaoke is about to start.
“Before the quality entertainment begins,” Naomi says with sarcasm and an eye roll, “I need to pee.” She slides her glass of wine toward me. “Watch my drink, please.”
Nodding, I slightly lift my leg to pull the flowy skirt of my dress down, then sip my wine. I swirl the liquid in my glass, watching the vortex it creates, letting it mesmerize me.
“Hey,” I hear over my shoulder.
I stiffen in my seat.
That voice.
Strong, deep, and gruff.
He’s the only person I know who can make a simple greeting sound so… powerful.
I may not know him anymore, but he has the same intensity about him that he used to.
Forcing the rich and oaky liquid down, I turn in my seat and find Aiden standing next to me. His hard, square jaw is clenched as he peers down at me.
“I thought you were hanging with your cousin tonight.”
“I was… I am,” I sputter, shocked to see him here. Even though I heard about this bar from him, I didn’t expect to run into him the first night I try it out. In New York City, I didn’t think it was possible to run into the same person twice in so little time. I clear my throat and point to the two wineglasses in front of me. “Naomi’s in the bathroom.”
His shoulders visibly relax. “For a second, I thought you were avoiding me.”
“Why would I do that?” I ask, straightening my posture.
He shrugs. “I expected you to call. To text. Something.”
“I didn’t want to intrude on your life.”
The corners of his lips twitch. “You could never intrude.”
Naomi returns, and I realize I have to introduce her to the one man I never expected to see again.
I clear my throat and point between them. “Naomi, this is Aiden. Aiden, Naomi.”
She jerks his hand up and down in a firm shake. “How do you two know each other?”
“We work together, and we…” I open and close my mouth, meeting Aiden’s gaze. Pain flits across his expression but quickly disappears. Before either of us can elaborate, Westin and another guy from their company walk up.
“Sage, hey. What a surprise.” Westin puts his hand out for me to shake. “You remember Jared? And Aiden said you two go way back.”
Naomi eyes me, her thick eyebrows raised in question.
I tuck my hair behind my ears and nod. “Yes, hello. Nice to see you all again.”
Westin signals for one of the two bartenders and orders beers for all three of them, then points to Naomi and me. “Next round for them is on me too.” He hands him a credit card and raps his knuckles on the bar. “We’ll start a tab, please.”
“Oh, that’s very generous, but you don’t have to.” I place my hand on his forearm to stop him.
Westin glances at me, his expression amus
ed. “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”
I drop my hand to my lap and settle back onto my barstool as he introduces himself to Naomi and shakes her hand as well.
I notice Aiden watching me, his lips twisted. His gaze is far away, like he’s not here at all. And if I stare long enough into his darkening hazel eyes, I might let him take me away with him.
Like I would have all those years ago.
If he would’ve given me the chance.
Someone taps the microphone, pulling our attention in the direction of the stage.
“Who’s ready for karaoke tonight?” A guy runs his hand over the side of his buzzed head, then waves from behind the microphone. He points to a girl standing in front of the stage and says, “We have our first volunteer. Everyone, give it up for Amy!”
I clap along with the rest of the crowd, my breath hitching as Aiden sidles up next to me. The first thing I notice is his radiating heat. The next is his minty breath on my cheek as he says, “You should sing Britney. For old time’s sake.” He smirks.
I shake my head, recalling our spring break trip my sophomore year. “I don’t think so.”
“Just as well. You probably don’t have the skills anymore.”
“Oh, I still have them. Don’t you worry about that.” I nudge his shoulder with mine.
“Prove it.” His eyes dance as we fall into our old ways so effortlessly.
“When did you karaoke before?” Naomi asks.
I turn my attention to her, tightening my grip on the glass in my hand, and explain, “Spring break. I had one fun night with everyone, then sat the rest of the week out because of a severe cold.”
“Bummer,” Westin responds.
“You took two sips of NyQuil and acted drunk.” Amused, Aiden’s lips curl around his bottle of beer before he takes a sip.
“That stuff almost killed me.” I stare at him wide-eyed.
“You’re right. You did jump out of a moving vehicle.”
“It wasn’t moving when I hopped out.”
Unbreakable: A Salvation Society Novel Page 5