The Big One (Second Chance Romantic Comedy)

by Katherine Hastings

  “You guys have already done it once, so why not?” Nita prodded on.

  Flashes of that night on the sailboat shot back through my mind. I could still feel his sweaty skin beneath my palms while I clutched his back, hear his ragged breathing in my ear, and the sensations from the way his hands worked every inch of my body sent a shiver snaking down my spine. Seeing him today made me want to tear off his clothes and feel that high again, but I was so nervous... so unsure. A sliver of fragility lingered, that familiar way we had still hadn’t come back, and I didn’t want to force things and ruin this before it got started.

  “Because... I don’t want to rush right to sex. It’s still a little awkward because I don’t know what we are yet. We’re not those same two eighteen-year-olds, but we’re also not two strangers out on a first date, either. It’s complicated.”

  “Did you shave your lady bits just in case?” Louie asked matter-of-factly.

  “Oh my God, Louie!”

  “He’s got a point, Ellie,” Nita agreed.

  Before I could argue back the hotel phone buzzed, and I jumped at the loud ring.

  “It’s him! It’s him! He’s here!” Louie squealed.

  “Shhhhh!” I shushed them and reached over, picking up the old-fashioned corded phone. “Hello?”

  “Miss Anderson, Liam Jansen is here.”

  Just hearing his name sent a wave of heat through my body and it settled into the knot in my stomach. “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be right down, please.”

  I hung up the phone and turned back to the two sets of eyes staring expectantly out of the screen.

  “I’m freaking out,” I said.

  “Me too! Me too!” Louie answered, doing nothing to soothe my frazzled nerves.

  “You’re gonna be fine.” Nita’s calming tone brought me back down again. “Closure. You’re either going to find out he’s amazing or maybe it turns out you hate him. No matter what, you move on with your life... with or without him. No more living in limbo. You’ve got this. You look amazing. You are amazing, and he’d better remember that.”

  Biting my lip, I nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this. Oh my God you guys... I’m going on a grown-up date with Liam.”

  “Instagram, Ellie! Insta the shit outta tonight! I’ll be waiting for pics!”

  “Good luck, Ellie,” Nita said. “We love you.”

  “I love you guys, too.”

  As I turned the iPad to click off the screen, I heard Louie’s voice pop up just before it went black. “Shave those lady bits!”

  They faded to black before they could hear me burst out laughing. With the shake of my head I stood up and took one last glance in the mirror.

  “You’ve got this, Ellie,” I whispered to myself with a confidence I didn’t feel inside.

  Grabbing my purse and room keys, I headed out into the hallway and pushed the call button for the elevator. Time crawled by while I waited for it to arrive, each second feeling like an hour. Finally, the bell dinged, and the doors opened. I stepped inside the car, and as the elevator descended so did the feelings into the pit of my stomach. The same nerves I’d felt on my way to see him all came back again, and I struggled for breath when the movement stopped. The elevator doors opened, and I saw the outline of his broad shoulders beneath the fine grey suit. My eyes moved down his muscular body and peeked at the round ass I would recognize anywhere.

  A slow turn brought him to face me, and I struggled not to wobble on my stilettos at the sight of him in that suit that accentuated every impressive feature of his body. His smile grew when his eyes raked my body and then settled onto my own. Extending a hand, he stepped forward.

  “You look incredible, Ellie.”

  My nerves and the sight of him in that suit got the best of me. “As do you as well do you too,” I responded, and then cringed at my own awkwardness and the bizarre string of words I’d used. Hopefully he just thought it was a new English expression. Ignoring my strange comment, he continued toward me and I reached out and grabbed his open hand. A gentle lift brought it to his lips, and my breath hitched when they brushed across the back of it. Those azure eyes burned through mine while I felt his hot breath graze my skin.

  “Shall we?” he asked, offering me an elbow.

  “Absolutely.”

  I slid my hand through his arm, and we moved together through the lobby to the cab he had waiting at the curb. Opening the door, he placed his hand on my lower back and guided me inside. He slid in beside me and nodded to the cab driver who watched us in the rearview mirror. Without a word, the car took off, and we started down the dark road lined with the glow of city lights.

  “How was your meeting?” I asked, struggling to start conversation.

  “Good,” he answered. “Very good, in fact. I think we have a new investor and that means I can expand into a couple other areas my grandfather was trying to get into.”

  “That’s exciting. I’m sure he would be proud.” Talking business with Liam was odd. Our previous conversations were filled with musings about life, our desires, and all the plans we had for the lives that awaited us.

  “I hope so. I’m just trying to run the company the same way he would have. Did you get a nap?”

  I shook my head and glanced at his hand, noticing the absence of it on my own. He palmed his pant leg, and I wished he’d close the gap and touch me instead. “No nap. I got some sleep on the plane, though. I had to sleep off all the vodka that got me on it in the first place.”

  His smile grew, and I saw him glance at my hand before clearing his throat. I returned the smile and then smoothed the bottom of my dress. Anything to keep my hands busy. Sitting next to him and not touching him sent a throb of pain through me.

  A few more artificial questions and a couple more artificial answers, and we arrived at the restaurant. After he paid the driver, he hopped out and ran around to open the door for me.

  “Thank you.” I stepped out, and he gave me a formal nod. The stiff gesture surprised me as did the proper behavior of this new Liam, like an imposter had taken over his body. It only fanned my nerves and my own movements stiffened in response. Another offering of an elbow and another opening of the door and we stepped into the dark restaurant lit only by the soft glow of candles.

  “Good evening,” the maître d' in the formal tux said before bowing.

  “Jansen, party of two,” Liam answered.

  He responded with something in Italian and gestured for us to follow him. Liam stepped aside and waved me past. I dipped my head and moved through the tables after the little man until we arrived at a small table in the corner. One tall solitary candle burned on the white tablecloth. The maître d' pulled out my chair and I smoothed my dress under my butt before sitting down. He pushed my chair in and Liam stood rigid and waiting until I was settled. Only then did he sit down.

  “It’s supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Naples,” he said, his voice barely a whisper since the rest of the diners ate in total silence.

  Only the soft classical music cut through the stuffy environment and I felt more uncomfortable by the second trying to remember all my manners. I glanced down at the impressive display of silverware in front of me. Which fork is the salad fork? I’d only been to a restaurant this fancy once in my life and I’d hated every second of the pretentious evening. It surprised me that Liam enjoyed this kind of restaurant. The Liam I knew loved having subs on the beach and didn’t mind if a little sand got in the mayo.

  The server arrived and the Italian words flew out of his mouth faster than I could process them. Liam answered back with equal speed and accuracy and then turned to me.

  “Would you like champagne?” he asked.

  “Sure.” I shrugged, then scolded myself for not answering more ladylike. “Yes, please.”

  A few more Italian words and the server scampered off after setting two menus on the table.

  “Your English is perfect.”

  “Much easier to speak than write. I speak it ofte
n, but rarely write it.”

  “Actually, your writing is pretty impeccable as well.” I realized he still thought his inability to understand the first message I’d sent him was that his English writing skills were lacking, not that I had typed it with one eye closed. Too embarrassed to come clean, I pressed forward. “I can’t believe you can speak English, Dutch, and Italian. I knew about the first two when I met you, but three languages? Impressive. Americans can usually only speak one.”

  “I can speak four.” He smiled. The words were English, but his accent was still Dutch. When he spoke Italian, though, I couldn’t make out if he had a Dutch accent or not since I didn’t understand the language.

  “Four?” I asked too loudly and several heads turned to scold me with narrowed eyes. I grimaced and lowered my voice. “I never knew that.”

  “Everyone in Amsterdam speaks Dutch and English. I learned Italian as well from my mother, and also French. And a little German. So I suppose four and a half languages.”

  “I took three years of Spanish and only remember ‘Hola’.”

  He chuckled quietly and folded his napkin into his lap. I followed suit and put the red piece of cloth across my own lap, smoothing it before leaning on the table. The moment my elbows touched it I heard my grandmother in my head, “No elbows on the table!” and I jerked them off. The quick movement shook the table causing the tall candle to teeter and nearly fall. Liam caught it with a quick grab and steadied it, but not before a few drops of wax landed on the pristine white cloth.

  “Sorry!” I grimaced, glancing around to see a few more irritated eyes staring at me. I struggled to keep my internal groan from escalating to an external one. This was not going well. In fact, if this had happened back home, when the obligatory first date “emergency call” from Louie or Nita came in, I might have said I had to go. Even thinking I would have bailed on a date with Liam caused a sadness to flood through me. Was it possible after all these years of yearning for him and holding him as the standard all other men failed to meet, that I’d somehow created an imaginary image of perfect man that didn’t actually exist? One look across the table at those dimples and my fears quieted again. I convinced myself we were just off to a rough start and blew out a breath.

  “It’s all right,” he responded, and his soft smile reminded me what this night was really about. Liam.

  “I taught you a few sentences of Dutch. Do you remember?”

  “I remember.” I laughed. “Though I’m not sure this is the setting to utter those dirty words.”

  “Say one.” For a second the formal way he held himself tonight softened, and he leaned in, mirth sparkling in his eyes.

  I leaned forward, looking over both shoulders to make sure no judgmental gazes hovered over me. Our faces moved into the glow of the candle and I took one last peek to my left. “Opzouten.”

  “You do remember,” he said proudly. “Do you remember what it means?”

  “Fuck off,” I answered confidently.

  The server cleared his throat, and I jumped back in my seat and looked to my right. Scolding eyes peered down from above his pointed nose.

  “Your champagne,” he said, turning his nose back up and presenting us the bottle.

  “Very good.” Liam cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, that rigid posture returning.

  The server set two glasses on the table and popped the cork. I jumped at the sound of the pop that echoed through the quiet restaurant. The bottle glugged while the liquid poured out, and I had to consciously stop myself from grabbing it and slamming the whole glass to help dull the pain from the cloud of awkwardness raining on our table.

  “Are you ready to order?” the server asked, setting the bottle in the ice bucket. I hadn’t even had time to look at the menu, though it was in Italian so it wouldn’t have mattered anyways.

  Liam must have seen the concern on my face and said something in Italian which caused the man to bow and walk away.

  “I told him we need another minute. I suppose you can’t read the menu, can you?”

  “I have no idea what it says,” I whispered back.

  “I hear the filet is excellent. Do you like steak?”

  “Love it.”

  “Then we’ll do that. Sound good?”

  I nodded and tried again to shake off the nerves that this stuffy restaurant only inflamed. While he looked impossibly handsome in his suit and tie, seeing him so formal still threw me for a loop. That summer had been so hot, I’d never seen him in more than a tank top and board shorts. Shirtless was my preference, and lucky for me he spent most of our time together that way. Lying on the beach and watching him kick around a soccer ball and show off his skills while his tanned skin glistened in the sun was one of my most cherished memories. Tonight, it took all my restraint not to rip that suit off to see what was lying beneath the fine fabric. From the way it hugged his expansive chest and tapered down at the waist, I could only imagine those muscles I used to drool over were even bigger now.

  The silence settled over us again and I found my eyes darting everywhere but his. Steepling my fingers, I pushed back and cracked my knuckles, a nervous habit I’d inherited from my father. The loud pop drew his eyes and I jerked my hands back under the table, wringing them together while I looked up at him.

  “So,” I said.

  “So.”

  Another few moments of silence and I could almost hear my dreams shattering into a million pieces on the tiles below my feet. That spark... that incredible thing we had, was missing. We’d had it in the street today when we saw each other, so it must still be there? Right?

  “I’m sorry, Liam,” I said, finally acknowledging the awkwardness that replaced the chemistry usually palpable between us. “I’m so nervous. And I’m not good in fancy places, as you can see.” I pointed at the dried wax on the table.

  A breath of relief blew out between his lips and he slumped forward. “Thank God. I am freaking out over here, and I hate stuffy restaurants. I just thought I should do something special to impress you.”

  My heart fluttered, and I could feel my dreams screeching to a halt before they crashed into the floor. “Really? You hate this too?”

  “So much. I’m more of a meat-on-a-stick from the street vendor kind of guy. But I didn’t think that was appropriate for a first date after all these years.”

  “I love meat-on-a-stick!” I exclaimed, and the patrons shot me another irritated look. This time I didn’t care.

  He exhaled a deep sigh. “Do you want to get out of here? There’s a guy up the road who sells little deep-fried meatballs and cannoli that will change your life. Or the best pizza in Naples is usually just around the corner on this street cart. She serves it in a paper cone and you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  Those eyes lit up again and the boy I loved transformed the body of the man sitting across from me. My head nodded before I could speak. He was still there. That kiss on the street wasn’t a fluke and my Liam still existed.

  “Yes. So much yes!”

  His smile lit up the dark room, and he grabbed the bottle of champagne by the neck. “We’re taking this!”

  All eyes glared at us while we hopped up laughing. Liam tossed some money on the table and reached out. I glanced at his opened hand and smiled before taking it in my own. When his fingers folded around mine it felt like his hand had reached inside of me and squeezed my heart. Our smiles couldn’t have been wider while we shared the same look we’d had that night we jumped off the Anderson Dock with our clothes on and screamed until we plunged beneath the cold water. With the champagne in one hand and mine in the other, he pulled me out through the restaurant, our laughs mingling together as one.

  ****

  “Oh my God!” I moaned while I chomped on the pizza in the little paper cup. “It’s fucking delicious!”

  “Right?” He smiled, nodding his head. “I told you. Here, try this.”

  I followed his hand while he held out one of the little deep-frie
d meatballs on a stick we’d snagged from the cart around the corner. Holding his gaze, I leaned forward and slid a meatball off the skewer with my mouth. Expectant eyes sparkled with anticipation while I chewed, and my own closed in ecstasy.

  “Oh my GOD!” I said with my mouth full.

  “Right?” he said again, and when I opened my eyes his gleaming smile was the first thing I saw.

  “This is more my style.”

  “Mine, too. I’m so sorry about the fancy restaurant. It’s not who we are.”

  We. The word caused me to choke on the last bit of meatball in my mouth. Sputtering to swallow I finally forced it down, grateful I wouldn’t require another rescue from an onlooker.

  “Are you okay?” He stepped forward and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Yes, sorry. I liked it so much I guess I got a little too excited,” I lied. I’d been ‘we’d’ and the tiny word felt like the most powerful one in the world.

  “Here, drink this.” He hoisted up the champagne and I laughed before grabbing it and taking a swig from the bottle.

  “We’re so fancy,” I said after the last of the bubbles chased away any traces of my meatball.

  “Nothing but class.” His laugh shook his body and I basked for a moment under the warmth of his smile.

  “Standing on the side of the road, eating meatballs and drinking champagne from the bottle. My kind of date.”

  “I’m glad I got it right the second time. Here, follow me.”

  With one hand holding the champagne and the other a stick of meatballs, he offered me an elbow and I slid my free hand through. This time the gesture didn’t feel formal, it felt natural and I leaned into him a little harder before taking another bite of my pizza.

  We ate and walked, exchanging bites of our food until the last of it was gone. The smell of saltwater hit my nose and I listened, now hearing the crashing of the waves on the shore.

  “Are we at the beach?” I asked, searching the darkness that sprawled out at the end of the lit street we walked down.

  “Yep.” He saw a garbage can and walked over, tossing our little paper meal cups and skewer sticks in the trash. “Hold this.” He handed me the champagne and slid his suit coat off, followed by his tie that he shoved into the pocket. I swallowed hard while he unclasped a few buttons of his white shirt and silently cursed him when he stopped without unbuttoning it all the way. Just a little of his pecs peeked through the opening and I had to force myself not to lean up on my tiptoes to get a better look at those muscles giving me a peepshow. Next, he leaned down and rolled up his pants before pulling off his shoes and gathering them with his suitcoat, then turning to me.