***
“Hey, Harper.” She's sitting on the couch when I get home.
I move quickly to the pantry and deposit my restock. I'm not really hiding it, but I'd rather not advertise either.
“Go check your bedroom.” Harper turns on the sofa, hops onto her knees, and leans on the back of the couch.
I narrow my eyes and walk to my bedroom. Everything looks the same. And then I see what's on my bed.
I shake my head. No way.
“No way,” I yell to Harper.
She comes to my room and crosses her arms.
“I'm not taking no for an answer. First you went hiking and then you cooked. You're almost your old self again, and you loved Halloween, the chance to dress up and be someone else. Come on.”
Why does everyone want me to be my old self? I don't want to be that person. That stupid woman who didn’t wake up to her own feelings until it was too late. That ridiculous woman who broke Ethan’s heart over and over. Who would want that woman back?
Harper wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Say yes.”
A chance to be someone else for the night? If I put on the costume can I also pretend to have a heart? It sounds tempting.
I look down at the outfit on the bed. “I'm not wearing that.”
Harper smiles. She knows she's won. “Fine, put a cardigan over it. Just promise me you won't button it.”
I eye the sexy school girl costume. It's so unoriginal. “What are you wearing?”
“Sexy nurse.” Also unoriginal. I stop myself from rolling my eyes.
Harper removes the costume from the hanger and puts it in my arms. “Try this on. I'll make a quick dinner, and we can start getting ready.”
She leaves my room and I lay the costume back down on the bed. My eyes run over the plaid skirt and the white collared shirt that will knot above my belly button.
From the second I put on the skirt, I know it's too tight. It zips, but not without effort. The shirt fits okay, minus the fact that half my stomach is visible. I'm not trying on the knee-highs. I know what those look like.
“Dinner is rea…dy,” Harper stutters the last word. She cocks her head to the side, frowning. “We're having salad. Don't want to be bloated tonight.”
I cross my arms. “Just say it.”
“I wasn't going to say anything.”
I look down at the outfit and back up to her. “I can't wear this.”
She studies my mid-section. My hands crawl over my stomach to cover it.
“No, you cannot wear that.” Her lips pull to one side as she considers. “Use the white shirt you wear to work. Tuck it in, so it will look cuter.”
I do as she says. Harper puts her arm around my shoulders and turns me to the mirror. “If you stop drinking so much, you'll drop the weight. It's all that sugar in the wine.”
She removes her hand from my shoulder and starts walking. “Let's eat. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll be celebrating.”
I look in the mirror one more time before I follow her. I don't need this costume. I could go as a shell. A shell of a person who once housed a heart, a life, a personality. She had likes and dislikes. Feelings. And I wouldn't even have to change my clothes.
***
“This is going to be epic.” Harper grabs my hand and starts up the long driveway of the ludicrous house. I was expecting an incredible home, just based on the streets she was taking to get here, but not something this insane. Two giant iron gates are pulled back to allow for partygoers to enter, and once we’re through them I feel like maybe this party was a bad idea. The feeling grows with every step we take toward the stone house that never seems to end.
Harper sails past the line of bedecked people waiting to walk through the front door. Two men with a clipboard sit at a table outside.
“There’s a list to get into a house party?” My voice is bewildered.
Her smile is so excited it makes her eyes crinkle. “Crazy, right?”
She walks up to the table with authority. “Hey guys! What a turn-out.”
“Lookin' good, Harper,” one guy says.
“Oh, well, you know. Just a little something.” Harper shrugs and turns in a circle.
The guy who complimented her gets up from the table.
He opens the burnished metal front door and gestures us in. “Have fun.”
Harper stops in front of him and places a palm on his chest. “There's a third in my group.”
“He's already here.” The guy throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Anthony gave him shit about not being with you, but they got it figured out.”
Harper laughs. “Anthony's doing his job then.”
“Something like that.” The door closes.
“How do you know those guys? And who’s the third in your party?” I ask as I yank on the bottom of the skirt, trying to make it magically lengthen.
“I hire them for security for a lot of my events.” She takes my hand, and we snake our way through throngs of people. I open my mouth to ask my second question that she left unanswered, but she stops to wave at a guy across the room.
“I have to talk to Marc. Go find the bar. I'll catch up with you.” She disappears into the crowd.
I turn in a circle, trying to get my bearings. The house is huge and people are everywhere. I take a step and bump into someone. I look up and gasp. The person I've bumped has full skeleton make up and an intricate top hat. He grins, showing huge, crooked teeth, and keeps going.
I continue to jostle and be jostled until I reach the stairs. I climb to the fifth step. From there I see over people’s heads to the bar set up outside and a DJ on a platform in a different room.
I climb down the stairs and keep to the edges of the room, so I field fewer elbows than last time. I pass Harper, where she's engaging a man I've never seen before in a lively conversation. One hand is on his bicep and the other waves in the air while she speaks. He laughs, his attention rapt. The queen is on her throne. Here, Harper is in her element.
I make it to the bar and order a drink. When I pull out money to pay him, he points to a sign hanging from a large glass canister. All proceeds go to No Child Hungry.
“I didn't realize,” I say, but he's already moved on to someone else. I drop the money in the jar and walk away. Harper didn't mention this was a charity event.
At the back of the yard is a water sculpture that looks like a wall. I'm drawn to it, imagining it sounds peaceful and tranquil. Very different than the loud music being spun by the DJ. A set of chairs sits in front of the water. Nearby, a fire pit is surrounded by couches. I choose the water over the fire.
I sit on the edge of a chair and stare into the water as it slides over the multi-colored metal wall. As I sip my drink, I count the different shades I see in the metal. Mostly shades of green and blue, some yellow interspersed throughout the piece. I could never be that creative.
You used to be creative.
Ethan wanted me to write again. And my mom wants me to keep a journal. But it's been so long. I'm sure all the creativity in me was wrung from my body as I twisted and turned myself inside out to be the person my dad wanted me to be.
I sigh and shake my cup. The ice cubes in my glass tumble together.
Time for a refill.
“Can I get two of those?” I say to a different bartender. He's dressed like a sailor.
“Sure thing.” He winks at me. “I guess that means you're already here with someone?”
“She's here with me,” a deep voice says from behind.
I whip around to the owner of the voice.
My whole body stiffens, and I gasp.
23
Kate
Ethan.
No, not Ethan. Nick. Dressed in fatigues.
My fingers are at my throat, as if somehow that could help my body get more air.
“Are you following me?” I want to look away, but I can't tear my eyes off the uniform.
Nick squints, defining his cheekbones. He looks arrogant,
like that's something he would never do. “I'm not following you.”
My eyes narrow. “I already told you I don't need a caretaker.”
Nick tips up his beer, eyes on me the whole time. “Harper invited me.”
“You're the third person in Harper's group?”
He nods slowly.
I look away. “Original costume.”
“Yours is just as original.”
I wrinkle my nose. I hate what I'm wearing.
I take a deep breath and turn back to the bar. I smile my thanks at the bartender for the two vodka and sodas sitting in front of me. I toss my cash in the jar and pick up one drink. Nick watches me, and I keep my eyes on him as I drain the entire thing. It's stronger than the first one, and I want to grimace, but I refuse to let Nick see through my show of defiance.
He shakes his head and looks away. I swipe my second drink off the bar, some of it spills on my hand, and I stomp to the house.
I can do what I want, Nick Hunter. I don't have to make you happy. I don't have to make anybody happy.
Instead of going in the back doors, I stomp off to the side of the house, where it's darker and less populated. I pause beside a window. My brain feels fuzzy.
“Taking a break from wine?” The same deep voice comes up behind me again.
“Go to hell.” I lean up against the wall next to the window, hoping to get my bearings.
“You're out of control.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.” If I can just get drunk enough and drown myself in memories, Ethan will come back to me. I know he will.
Nick steps in front of me and places one hand on the wall next to my head. He leans in, his eyes intense, locking my gaze to his. “My mother was a drunk. I watched her tear her life apart with alcohol. That”—Nick points at my drink—“won't heal your pain.”
“That's not my objective,” I grumble.
Nick scrutinizes me. “If you were given the chance to have Ethan back for five minutes, what would you do?”
The question catches me off guard. Five minutes with Ethan… There's so much I want to do. To say. I set the cup down on the windowsill beside me.
“Only five minutes? How about ten?”
He shakes his head no. “Five.”
My eyes close and I think.
“Don't think,” I hear him say. “Just answer.”
I open my eyes. Nick's gaze bores into mine.
“I would kiss him like I knew it was going to be our last kiss.” My lips tremble, and I close my eyes. “I would touch his face and smell his skin.”
“Finally.” Nick breathes the word. “This is perfect, Kate. You're stoic all the time. Show some emotion. I know it's in there.”
I open my eyes. Nick's face is pained. The words pour out of him. “You're dying on the inside. Do something to revive your soul.”
I need Ethan. Only he can revive me. I reach for Nick's shoulders and pull. We’re so close I feel his chest expand with his surprised intake of breath.
Our faces are almost touching. My heart hammers in my chest.
He doesn't move.
I lift my mouth to his cheek, dragging my lips toward his. At the corner of his lips I hesitate. I’m drunk, but I know what I’m doing. Kind of. My mouth continues another inch, so our lips are touching only a fraction. It’s just enough for me to take a small portion of his lower lip and pull it between my teeth. He groans and turns into my face.
His mouth is on my mouth.
Ethan. This could be you.
Our lips mold and mesh, yielding to tongues and gasps for air. My fingers rake up his head and back down, running through his hair. My body presses against his. His uniform feels stiff where it touches my skin. I kiss down to his jaw, my face goes lower, and my nose presses into him. I inhale. The smell is wrong. Nick stiffens.
He backs away from me. My hands drop. When I look up, I see blue eyes.
Blue eyes.
Not Ethan.
“Who were you kissing just now?” Nick grabs for breath, his voice empty and thick at the same time.
I stare down at my hands. I'm too ashamed to look him in the eye. “Ethan,” I whisper.
Nick takes another big step away from me. “That's what I thought.”
“Hey!” A voice bellows. Harper sashay’s over in her nurses costume. Her chest is puffed out. Like anybody could miss the cleavage she’s displaying. “What are you two doing hiding over here?” She glances from me to Nick with suspicious eyes.
“Talking.” I pick up my cup and drink. What did I just do?
Nick's lips move to the side in disapproval. “Go easy, Kate.” Those disapproving lips were on my lips. My insides are a scary jumble. I want to scream, run, do something to shake up the utter humiliation and regret building in my chest.
Harper waves off his warning. “Don’t worry about her. She drinks every night.”
I sway, just a little.
“Is that right?” He directs the question at me.
Harper steps closer to Nick. “So, I heard Anthony gave you a hard time tonight. Tell me more about that.” She puts her arm through his and turns him toward her.
“I'm going to find the bathroom.” I walk away before they can stop me.
The line for the bathroom takes forever. There are probably ten more bathrooms in this massive place, but I'm not up for an expedition. I wait, listening to the laughing and talking from the girls in front of and behind me. Their conversations are carefree. Isn’t this place so crazy? What are we doing tomorrow? What classes are you taking this semester? When it’s my turn I hurry into the bathroom, eager to leave the carefree talk behind.
When I’m done, I exit with my head down, hoping to avoid overhearing any more jovial conversations. I pause when I’ve reached a corner of a room, and pull out my phone to order a ride.
“Excuse me?”
Irritation rides through me. I look up, ready to tell Nick to leave me and my pathetic self alone, but it's not Nick's face I'm looking at.
“Yes?” I look at the guy standing in front of me. I think he's dressed up as a tennis player. He has a white sweater tied around his shoulders. No racket though.
“Hi. My name is Michael.” He gestures to the DJ. “Do you want to dance?”
What? Me? No, I do not want to dance.
Nick and Harper come into sight behind the guy's head. Harper has her arm wrapped around Nick, and she's right up against his side.
Nick looks annoyed. Harper beams.
I look back at the guy to tell him no.
“Everything okay here?” Nick breaks in.
I glare at him. “Everything is fine.” My voice is harsh.
The guy puts his hands up. “I was just asking her to dance. I didn't realize she was with someone.” He looks nervously at Nick.
“She's not. She’ll dance with you.” Harper says excitedly. She lets go of Nick and hurries to my side, pushing me forward.
What the hell, Harper?
My hand comes up in frustration, but the guy mistakes it for my acceptance. He grabs my open palm and pulls me away. The crowd swallows me up immediately. I turn back just before I lose sight of my companions. Nick’s mouth is in a straight line, arms folded at his chest. Harper looks happy. She turns to him, and her mouth is moving, trying to get his attention.
Suddenly I feel angry. I'm mad at Nick for thinking he knows my personal hell. I’m mad at Harper for making this decision for me. And I'm furious with myself for letting her.
***
“I can make it up myself. Promise.”
But Michael won’t hear of it. He’s been a total gentleman since he pulled me to the dance floor. He’s continued to be a gentleman after he insisted he see me home. He barely touched me when we danced, which I appreciated. No bumping. No grinding.
I’m very, very drunk. Maybe that’s why Michael insisted on following me to my front door. He wasn’t positive I could actually make it up.
After some fumbling, I manage to
open the door and step inside. I’m vaguely aware Michael’s walking in behind me. Where is Harper? I lost track of her and Nick. Please don’t let them be here together. Please tell me Nick didn’t fall under her spell.
I need water. My mouth is dry. My head’s already starting to hurt. I grab two water bottles from the fridge and hand one to Michael.
“I’ll be right back.” I teeter off to my bathroom. I need my trusty Tylenol.
When I walk out of the bathroom, I find Michael standing in my dark bedroom. I might be drunk, but I know I told him I’d be right back.
The light from the living room filters in just enough that I can see his face. He smiles at me, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s cocky. Over-confident. “The cat-and-mouse game has been fun, Kate. But it’s time to be done with all this innocence crap.”
He grabs me and yanks my arm. I trip and fall into him. My head hits his shoulder. My palms come up to his chest, and I push off him. But I’m weak. Too drunk to be coordinated. Michael takes my chest palming as a sign of submission.
His hands are on my cheeks, and his face is coming toward me. No no no. I turn my face to the side, and Michael’s lips miss their target.
“What the hell? I've been buying your drinks for the last two hours. You owe me at least a kiss.”
He puts his hands on my cheeks again, this time squeezing, and forces my face to stay still.
He pulls back to look at me and grins. I feel sick inside. This is the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
Michael's face looms in my vision, inching his way to me. I brace myself for contact.
And then he’s gone. My cheeks tingle as the blood rushes back in. I hear grunting.
I can’t see anything well, just bulky shapes moving. My hand shoots out and smacks the wall switch.
Light floods the room.
Michael is pressed up against the wall opposite the one I’m leaning on. Nick’s forearm pushes against his throat. More grunting. Michael’s condescending smile is gone. His eyes bulge.
The Day He Went Away Page 17