by Ali Parker
“Absolutely.”
Vanny sat cross-legged in the middle of my sofa. I’d asked her my final question of the night, which was if she had any birthmarks, and she’d taken both her socks off to show me a small one on the bottom of her left foot and another on the back of her right ankle. She had red toes.
“And what about you?” she asked. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair a bit disheveled from constantly running her fingers through it, and her lips puffy from the drink. We’d switched to water at my insistence, even though she claimed to still be enjoying the moonshine.
She wouldn’t be enjoying it when it came up in the morning if she kept going.
I lifted the hem of my shirt to show her my birthmark, a peanut-shaped beige blemish on the lowest rib on my right side. “Just this one,” I said, pressing my index finger to my skin.
Vanny swallowed. I wasn’t stupid. She was staring at my stomach. I left my shirt up a moment longer. I didn’t work hard for my abs for nothing. If someone wanted to appreciate them, especially her, she could stare all she wanted.
She tore her gaze away and I let my shirt fall. “You have one more question, Vanny.”
“Hmm.” She drummed her fingers on each knee. The smile that stretched her cheeks instantly made me worried. “Do you actually want to get married one day? Like for real?”
I hesitated intentionally. The answer was an easy one. “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Does that surprise you?”
She shrugged. “A little. When you have all this.” She gestured around my loft. The motion was a little unsteady from the drinks. “It might be hard to wrap your mind around sharing it with someone else. I don’t know.”
“I was prepared to share it all with my ex.”
“Trish?”
I frowned. Had I told her about Trish at some point? I couldn’t recall the conversation. Maybe Chris had told her about her and how things fell apart.
Vanny hiccupped and picked up her glass of water. “Sorry. That was intrusive. You don’t have to talk about her.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I loved her. Or I thought I did. And I thought she was the one. But then I found her fucking her ex on my kitchen floor. That was three weeks ago. Seems longer. I was pissed at first. I couldn’t believe she’d do that to me. But then I began to realize she’d done me a favor.”
“Oh?”
“She showed me her true colors before she became Mrs. Daniels. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.”
“That’s true.”
“Do you want to get married one day?”
Vanny smiled thoughtfully. God, she was beautiful. And soft. And so feminine. She looked good cuddled up in the middle of my couch, flanked by cushions, hair messy, feet bare. Better than good. She looked like she belonged there.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “But I think that day is probably very far away.”
“Not necessarily. Life has a funny way of surprising us.”
Vanny went quiet. Her brows drew together. When she spoke, there was a hardness to her voice I hadn’t heard before. A bitterness. Pain. “I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like I’m too much. Too many opinions. Too loud.” She clenched her jaw, and for a moment, I thought she might cry when she stared right into my eyes. “That I take up too much space.”
“You don’t—”
“I know.” The words were sharp. She swallowed and took a breath. “I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Rhys. But I’m not used to this. I’m used to people treating me like I’m less than because I don’t fit into their idea of what a pretty girl looks like. Like that’s the most important thing to be. I’m so… I’m so fucked up about this stuff and I know it. I just don’t know how to fix it.”
I was out of my depth here. It would be so easy to say the wrong thing and I didn’t want to hurt her more than other people already had. But I wanted to help, and I needed to say something, so I chose my words carefully and inched closer to her on the sofa to rest a hand on her knee. “Vanny, I don’t think people treat you less than because they don’t think you’re pretty. I think you treat yourself like you’re less than because you believe them. And they’re wrong. Plain and simple. But I understand. When you hear the same thing over and over for years upon years, it becomes what you are.”
Vanny searched my eyes. Her glare softened. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I like you. And I see you.”
“You see me?”
I nodded.
Vanny turned bright red. Then suddenly, she was unfolding her legs and getting to her feet. She swayed, but only slightly, and let out a delighted little giggle that lit a spark inside me. “I’m feeling pretty good. This moonshine of yours is top-notch stuff.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I stood too.
She gazed out onto my balcony off the kitchen. Her face lit up and she spun toward me. “Is that a hot tub out there?”
“Erm. Yes.”
“We should go in.”
I laughed. “Do you have a swimsuit?”
“Oh. Right. No, I don’t.” Her shoulders slumped. “Shoot.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head. She watched it hit the floor. “Underwear, it is.” I undid my belt and dropped my jeans.
Vanny gasped. “Rhys!”
“What? They’re just boxers. Same as swim trunks. Right? Don’t be such a prude.”
“I’m not a prude.”
“Oh no?”
“No.”
“Prove it.”
I thought she might stomp her foot, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned and marched to the sliding doors, stormed out onto the patio, and began stripping outside by the hot tub.
“Jesus,” I breathed. Then I hurried to catch up with her and get the cover off the hot tub so she wouldn’t freeze her ass off out there.
It was hard to get the job done when her clothes were hitting the patio stones. The girl had a lot of layers on. First her sweater came off. Then her jeans. She stood in her tank top and panties, a bikini-cut black pair with little pink flowers on them, with her arms wrapped so tightly around herself that her boobs threatened to spill right up over them.
I managed to get the cover off. Then I turned on the multicolored lights that lit up the ten-person hot tub. Go big or go home, right?
Vanny peered into the tub.
“Second thoughts?” I asked before pulling myself up onto the edge, swinging my legs over, and slipping them into the hot water.
“Is this crazy?”
“Crazy?” I laughed and sank into the water up to my shoulders. “Vanny, it’s a hot tub. It’s about as far from crazy as you can get when it comes to water.”
She giggled nervously. Then with her lip between her teeth and her gaze downcast, she hooked her fingers in the bottom of her undershirt and worked it off over her head, exposing a bra that matched her panties, cleavage I wanted to suffocate in, and a body made for worshipping. She didn’t give me much time to admire her. She plunged into the hot tub. The water lapped at the edges as she pulled her knees up to her chest, hiding herself from me under the water.
Wordlessly, I turned on the jets so she’d be more comfortable.
She tilted her head back and gazed up at the stars decorating Nashville’s sky. “You have a beautiful view.”
I was still looking at her. “Sure do.”
“I used to lay on the grass with my dad when I was a girl and look at the stars. He told me they were fairies.”
“Fairies?”
Vanny smiled wistfully. When she looked at me, all the lines of tension in her face were gone. She was no longer caught up in thinking about how she looked. “Yeah. Space used to freak me out as a kid. All those stars. All that empty black space. There was nothing scarier.”
“Other than your Nannie.”
She laughed. Hard. So hard she snorted a little. And that only made her laugh harder until we were both in stitches and she was sucking in gulps of air
through her teeth. “Yes. Except for my Nannie.”
I pushed away from my side of the hot tub to take the spot beside her. She watched me come to her.
“Why is your Nannie the way she is?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I think she came out of the womb insulting the doctors and nurses.”
I chuckled. “Do you think it’s a defense mechanism?”
“Are you trying to therapize my family?”
“Good God no.”
“I don’t think anyone could, to be fair. Nannie is just… Nannie.”
I spotted a mark on the back of her shoulder and leaned back to peer at it. Then I pressed my index finger to her skin. Her shoulder was cold to the touch. She let out a little gasp.
I smiled. “You have another birthmark. Cheater. You never told me about this one.”
She pulled away. “I didn’t know it was there.”
“What? How could you not—”
Vanny was suddenly neon pink. She scooted across the hot tub, stood up, and got out. “I think I should go home.”
“Wait. Hold on. Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I just… I had too much to drink and I want to go home. Can you call me a cab?”
“I… yeah. Sure.”
Somewhere along the way, I’d said or done the wrong thing. Was it the birthmark? If so, why? It didn’t add up.
Vanny didn’t give me time to get my thoughts together. She gathered her clothes from the patio stones and hurried inside, leaving wet footprints across my floor from the kitchen down the hall to the bathroom, where she locked herself away to dry off and change.
Damn it.
Chapter 24
Vanessa
Dr. Langford crossed one leg over the other and made herself comfortable in her plush velvet armchair while I propped myself up on some pillows on her sofa. They were a matching set, the sofa and the chair, and they were lined in flat silver studs that I had a habit of running my fingers over when the topic of conversation got a little too personal.
Which was all the time. Therapy. Duh.
My therapist watched me settle into my seat, a process that always took me at least five minutes, and then she cleared her throat softly. “How have you been this week, Vanessa?”
“Overwhelmed.”
“I’m sorry. Can you explain why you’re overwhelmed? Do you know the why?”
Of course, I knew the why. The why was a six-foot-three hunk of a man with the most godly physique I’d ever set eyes on—and that included the male cast of all the superhero movies hitting the box offices lately. All I’d been able to think about while I was in the hot tub with Rhys was that he had big hands. Very big hands. Hands that would be able to handle my tits in all their glory.
“There’s a guy,” I said.
Dr. Langford smiled. I never knew with her if it was genuine or rehearsed. Either way, it made me feel heard as she shifted in her seat. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s dreamy.”
“Aren’t they always?”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s like dreamy. Guys like this have no right to exist. He’s—he’s—” I considered lying, but this was a safe place. A safe place I paid for. And I needed guidance which I would not get if I was holding the most crucial piece of information from the woman who was here to help me. “He’s Rhys Daniels.”
Her thin silvery eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Rhys fucking Daniels. And get this. He’s also the mystery caller who was always calling into the station.”
She blinked. “Mr. No Name.”
“You got it. Mr. No Name himself. He’s also my big brother’s best friend since high school. And he and I had the bright idea to team up and go to my high school reunion together. So we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and last night, things looked like they were going to heat up for real, and I panicked.”
“What did you do?”
“We were in his hot tub. I sat in there with him for maybe five minutes. It was nice. I felt so at ease that I talked to him about my dad and fond memories I have with him that I haven’t told anyone. Not even my best friend. It was so easy to talk to him but confusing all at the same time. And then he touched me. Not in a sexy way. Or an unwanted way. He literally just put his finger on my shoulder to point out a birthmark and I freaked out like a fourteen-year-old virgin.”
Dr. Langford smiled again. “Do you think it’s because you’re not ready for that kind of intimacy?”
I stared blankly at her. “Does putting a finger on someone’s shoulder count as intimacy?”
“You were in a hot tub together. I assume just the two of you?”
“Yes.”
“Intimacy was implied.”
“Okay fine. Yeah. I knew things were getting a little steamy. I didn’t want to leave. But it was like my body had a mind of its own and I had to get out of there. I can’t understand it.”
“You’re protecting yourself.”
“From what?” I asked desperately.
“Well, it could be a lot of things. Maybe you’re protecting yourself from disappointment and pain. Getting close to someone can be a really scary thing, especially when you don’t know the outcome. It is completely normal to fear the unknown and rejection and the kind of hurt our heart endures when someone we start to have romantic feelings for does not feel the same way. Or maybe you’re conflicted.”
“About what?”
“About withholding certain parts of yourself from him. He knows you as Nessa Night as well as Vanny Hampton. Do you think you might feel a little guilty about this? You know very personal things about him because of his calls into the station. You know things about him he has never intentionally shared with you.”
My stomach did a little twisty dance move. “That might have something to do with it.”
Dr. Langford smiled again. This time, it truly looked genuine as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and clasp her thin fingers together. Her nails were rounded and painted nearly the same color as the furniture we sat upon, and she wore several rings, including a sparkling wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand that I’d always envied. “Maybe you should tell him who Nessa Night really is.”
I could feel my face cooling as the blood rushed away from my cheeks. “No. It’s too soon.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He’d run for the hills.”
“Or he wouldn’t.”
Both options seemed equally terrifying. Where was the happy medium? “I need more time.”
She nodded. “You know I don’t like to tell people what to do, Vanessa. But I feel compelled to say this. Secrets serve no one. You may be right. It may be too soon. But as soon as it’s not, you should seriously consider being honest with him. And if you start to think this could be something real between the two of you?” She searched my eyes in that unnerving way only trained professionals could do. “You owe it to yourself to be honest with him. Otherwise, it isn’t real at all.”
Maybe that was what I wanted. It was so much easier to keep one foot in and one foot out. But last night, something changed.
I was beginning to believe that maybe, just maybe, Rhys liked me for me after all. And that was a truly terrifying prospect.
My shift at the dress shop was hard to endure after my early morning appointment with Dr. Langford. Our conversation played over and over again in my mind as I ran through customers purchasing dresses for family weddings, birthdays, and all sorts of special occasions, as well as more casual garments for everyday life. I spent half an hour cleaning glass displays and the mirrors of the fitting rooms after one mother with a toddler with grubby little hands spent over an hour in the shop, and then I swept, dusted, and straightened hangers, desperate for the last hour of my shift to end.
When the bell above the door chimed at fifteen minutes to close, I groaned. There was always someone who wanted to come in and shop just as I was shutting down for the day. I lifted my
head to greet them and was relieved to see Kim standing at the entrance. In one hand, she held a bag of pastries from our favorite cafe down the road, and in the other, she had a tray holding two coffees.
“Hey, babe,” she said. “Feel like a snack?”
“What did I do to deserve you?”
Kim strode into the shop and met me at the sales counter. She set the goodies down, and we dug in, and she proceeded to walk a lap of the store, looking for new merchandise. She seemed uninspired by the selection and came back to me. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. And you?”
Kim shrugged. “All right. I let Jackson set me up on yet another dismal date. I don’t know why I keep letting him talk me into these things. The last guy—no word of a lie—told me within the first fifteen minutes that he’d checked out all my socials and only agreed to go on the date because, and I quote, ‘you look like the sort of girl who takes care of herself.’”
“Barf.”
“Right?” Kim asked, eyes wide. “He was the worst. As soon as I got out of there, I called Jackson and told him he was officially fired from helping me with my search for love.”
“At the very worst, you got some good stories out of it.”
Kim sighed and popped open the pastry bag to help herself to a cream puff. “I don’t want good stories. I want my someone. You know?”
“He’s out there, Kim. You just have to be patient.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” What about me? What was she asking? Was she asking about Rhys?
Play it cool, Vanny, play it cool.
“Yeah. You still been spending a lot of time with Rhys?”
“Erm.”
Kim pointed an accusing finger at me. “You have, haven’t you?!”
“He’s coming to my reunion with me. Of course I have. We’re getting to know each other.”
“Please. There is no way any woman on the face of this earth could spend time with a man like him and not catch feelings.”