The Do-Over

by Julie A. Richman

  “Sounds perfect.” And I knew exactly what I was bringing.

  Laynie and Jill had watched and laughed as I tried on half my closet. I ended up in a pair of white jeans shorts, a turquoise tank top and a white boat neck sweater with thin turquoise horizontal stripes.

  “You look very Ralph Lauren,” Laynie commented as I tied the straps from my turquoise espadrilles around my lower shin.

  “Love the shoes.” Jill gave me the nod of approval. “Anything that ties around your leg like that is sexy in a totally casual way.”

  “Do not forget the perfume,” Laynie marched into my bathroom, coming out with the Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue in hand. “He’s recreating the boat thing, so you’re going to help him fill in any memory gaps.”

  It was fun having friends over to help me get ready for my date and cheer me on.

  “How is his evil friend?” Jill raised her brows.

  “From what I’ve heard, he’s over in the Far East for like a month. Wes didn’t want to go out of town with Stacy undergoing chemo.”

  “Ugh, he’s still on the planet. Too close for comfort.” Laynie stretched out on my comforter.

  “He’s like this black cloud hanging over me. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell Wes what happened and Wes to want to have nothing to do with me.” I could feel my nausea rise to a fevered pitch just verbalizing it. Rationally, I knew it was before Wes came back into my world, but the emotional part of me told me that Wes would not be happy hearing about it. I wanted to tell him, so that he would hear it from me. But I also just wanted to ignore it and maybe it would just go away.

  “You guys, I have to tell him. Or it’s always going to be there weighing on me. Choking me. Plus, I’d rather he hears it from me and know I wasn’t hiding it.” I didn’t realize I’d been wringing my hands, until I noticed Jill staring at them. “And Lord knows how Julien would spin it. He could make it even worse, just to be a bastard.”

  I was not in an enviable spot and I needed to come clean with Wes and accept whatever consequences ensued.

  Julien. Julien. Julien. Oh, how I wish I’d never met you.

  Chapter 15

  With a map in hand, I navigated past gorgeous sailboats and yachts in search of Wes’ berth. Trying to walk with confidence, big purse slung over one shoulder filled with everything I might need – or not, weighty freezer bag firmly planted on the other arm, I was beyond nervous, as if the world were riding on this, a date with a man I’d waited half my life to date. Why did the stakes feel so high?

  And there it was. I was wondering what the name would be. Named for his lost wife? His company? Some obscure reference? And then I was upon her. Second Wind. And I immediately loved the hope and freedom it implied. There was an optimism and that really spoke to Wes and his entrepreneurial spirit – taking his heartache and turning it into something that brought brightness into others’ lives. The possibilities were endless when you were given a second chance. A do-over, per se.

  “Hey Wes,” I called out, stepping onto the deck.

  He bounded up from below, full smile. “You found me.”

  Oh yes I did. Again. “This boat is beautiful.” I took in the teak deck and navy blue appointments.

  Laden with bags on my shoulder, I pulled off the freezer bag, thrusting it toward Wes instead of approaching him with any kind of hug.

  With eyes widened, as did his surprised smile, he relieved me of the pouch. “Damn that’s heavy. A new boat anchor?” he kidded, taking it over to a built in wooden table. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out the huge, oversized pitcher of slushy frozen rum and somethings and laughed at the plastic cups I’d brought for us to drink them.

  “Most excellent,” he exclaimed, that smile stealing my heart yet again. “I’ll try not to spill them on you this time.”

  Biting my tongue, I just wanted to tell him to spill away as long as he licked them off my toes. But I just laughed.

  Pulling out two thick royal blue reclining seat cushions, Wes placed them side-by-side on the deck, with the rum pitcher and cups between them. “Be right back.” He bounded down the stairs with lithe grace, returning a moment later with a platter of cheese, crackers, fresh fruit and dip.

  Easing onto the comfortable pad chair, I fiddled with the back to get the right recline.

  “Here, let me get that for you,” he offered, positioning it perfectly for relaxation while still a safe angle for eating and drinking.

  With our first rum whatevers safely in plastic cups, we clinked too hard, both spilling and laughed.

  “You know we had to do that,” I couldn’t contain my smile. “For old times’ sake.”

  Raising his glass, his eyes crinkled, “For new times’ sake.”

  New times. I liked that. A lot.

  Both taking big swigs of the mixture I know I put way too much rum in, I had the feeling that we both needed a little shot of confidence. While I’d kept thinking about it as one bridge dividing us, there were multiple and we needed to cross them one by one.

  “So when did you come back to New York?”

  “It was probably less than a year after the windjammer trip.”

  “Really. I would have thought you would have stayed out there. I think you’re one of those rare personalities that can adapt to both coasts and really thrive.”

  He smiled and I could tell there were memories flooding in. “Actually, you kinda ruined that for me.”

  “Me?” I choked on my drink. “How did I do that?” Sitting up in my chair, I faced him, untying the silk straps on my espadrilles and setting the shoes aside.

  “Honestly?” His brows were raised and I knew he was asking if I were ready to really talk.

  “Yes. Of course.” I picked up the pitcher and refilled both our glasses. We clinked again and laughed at the need for liquid confidence.

  “Okay, so I went back to L.A.”

  “We never said goodbye.” It was out of my mouth, not meaning to interrupt him, but I could feel the desperation in my gut that I had that morning. I had missed the chance.

  “I know,” he whispered.

  “I looked for you. You were down the gangplank, entering the terminal. I called out, but it was so loud. And then you disappeared and by the time I made it into the terminal, you were gone.”

  “You did?”

  I nodded and he reached forward, squeezing my hand, the revelation of a moment he’d missed over a decade before sinking in, aided into his blood stream by our rum redux. There was a warmth in his eyes when he looked at me.

  “That makes me feel really good.” Taking a deep breath, he continued. “So, I went back and at first things felt okay. I was happy to be home, probably just happy to be away from Stacy, who you know was miserable that trip. But my contentment didn’t last very long and I was feeling like a fish out of water, in a pond I no longer was sure I wanted to be in. I felt like I was trying to fit in and it was work, as opposed to just being and everyone getting you and still liking you.”

  “Well, there’s a lot to be said for shared history with people,” I interjected.

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that. Shared sensibilities. Shared goals. Shared ethos.”

  Smiling, “Okay, so I get that. But how did I ruin things?”

  Wes’ melodious laugh was hearty as he gave me a Really, Tara look. “That freaking night, Tara. How do you have a night like that and then sit amongst people who seriously don’t get you?” Pausing, he took a sip. “Especially one you are sleeping with and really doesn’t understand the fundamentals of what makes you tick. So, that night became this comparison point for me and although that probably was not fair to my girlfriend, it really shone a light on things that were missing.” Wes took another sip of the drink. “I remember thinking all that glitters might not be gold and this kind of false California reality began to look decayed in the bright sunshine.”

  I remained silent because I could see his mind going a mile a minute as memories were plowing in fast and I w
anted to hear every word he had to say, experience every thought, all the feelings I’d wondered about for so very long as I questioned for years, in the back of my mind, was that real?

  “There were a group of us out to dinner one night. Some vegetarian place, of course,” he laughed. “It was fall and I just wanted it to feel like fall. I wanted to put on a sweater, sleep with the windows open and no one even understood that. So, that night when we got home, I said to Alicia, my girlfriend, I’m booking us two tickets for a long weekend back east, we’ll try and hit peak foliage, check out some apple orchards, get cider.”

  I know my smile was huge just listening to him as he described the wonderfully simple things nature brought to us that were a timeless gift. Those perfect few weeks of Indian Summer when the northeast was a magical tapestry of color, smells and crunches of bright leaves underfoot.

  “What happened?”

  “There was not a damn fucking thing she liked about fall in the northeast.”

  “What? How is that possible?” I truly was shocked. Just listening to Wes, all my senses were filled with the splendor of autumn. Apple cider. I could taste iced cold apple cider in my mind.

  “Right? How is that possible. She literally counted down the hours till we got back to Los Angeles.”

  “Wow.” I was speechless, so I continued to drink as if the rum whatever was going to give me some insightful answer to impart.

  “I couldn’t figure it out, so being a glutton for punishment, I said, okay let’s try a Christmas trip to New York. Rockefeller Center, store windows, the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. Quintessential Christmas in New York.”

  “And?”

  “It was like I was torturing the poor girl.”

  “I don’t understand.” I just shook my head and reached for a chunk of cheddar cheese. “I mean, it might not be what she grew up with, but people come from all over the world. The energy is magical here from the fall through the holidays. The weather is generally beautiful and everything is so festive. I can’t think of a more feel good time or place to spend that time of year.”

  “It was hard to go back to L.A. after that and feel good about things. I tried for a long time to convince myself that the lifestyle made me happy, but I really felt alone.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And Tara, you popped into my head often because I knew, because you showed me, that there are people who are naturally on the same wavelength you are on. You don’t have to try. It’s natural and organic and it is there. And I remember being angry at my own circumstance. That when I met you, I wasn’t free to explore a relationship with you. And I hated that our timing was off. I hated that we just walked out of one another’s lives. Although our time together had been short, I felt like I’d lost a best friend. Now, had it been today, I would have Facebooked you or something when I moved back. But it wasn’t. And a year had gone by. But I knew as soon as I was back, that it was right. This was where I belonged and if I could have a relationship with someone who got me the way you got me, that I could be happy.”

  “And you did.” I was thinking about his wife.

  “Yes. I did.” Wes smiled at me. “You two would have liked each other a lot.”

  Reaching out, I took Wes’ hand. “Of that, I have no doubt. And I’m really glad you think so.”

  Squeezing my hand back. “Are you as nervous as I am, Tara?”

  Nodding, I felt instant relief hearing him verbalize that. “We set a memory bar very high. And we have a work relationship, which does complicate things.” And then there is Julien. The ghost hanging over me. Which I regret because he shouldn’t be marring us. But he was before you came back… I wondered what he knew. If anything. Julien was a 220-pound gorilla sitting on my chest, choking the joy out of me. I didn’t want to give him that power, but I just couldn’t push all his negative juju far enough away, even though he was currently on the other side of the world.

  “Wes, we’ve had a connection from the second we met. And I think we both get how special that is. That night we met was like meeting my best friend for the first time and that doesn’t ever happen. I make friends slowly and have a small circle that are close to me. You have this big personality – I don’t think you’ve ever met a stranger, and that is an amazing talent. So, I never really knew if that night was just a normal night for you, just the way you relate to people or if our connection was different.”

  I was shocked to see the stricken look in his eyes and the deep crevasse form between his brows. “Tara, seriously?”

  I nodded, “Seriously.” I needed to hear him tell me.

  Moving the food tray and pitcher from between us, he shifted his seat over, adjacent to mine, slinging his arm over my shoulder and pulling my head close, and in that moment, it felt right to settle in there. Bridge one had just been crossed. It took over fifteen years.

  His voice was gruff when he spoke. “I met my best friend for the first time. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. You were there, and as every minute flowed effortlessly into the next hour, you were inextricably more a part of my life, immediately – both past and present, as if there had never been a moment without you. Our crazy one degree of separation was uncanny and it was clear we were supposed to meet. It had been like we’d been playing this parallel game of hopscotch our entire lives. We were always so close, yet one step away. So no Tara, the level of instant connect that I had with you, is not the level I get to with most people – at least not for a very long time,” he paused, then added, “if ever. Never. Just once.” He took a sip from his drink. “I really didn’t know what to do with it. I knew what I wanted to do with it. And I couldn’t and I was so at odds because of that. I’m not a cheater. That’s not who I am. But I also knew, on some deep, cellular level that letting you walk out of my life was a tremendous loss that shouldn’t happen. I never should have left that ship without a way to stay in touch. And I regretted that. I regretted it deeply. And that stayed with me.”

  Lifting my head from his shoulder, I shifted in my chair to face him. I needed to see his eyes. “We weren’t ready. Our paths weren’t ready yet. We both had other destinies to fulfill.”

  “Ready now?” He raised his brows, questioningly.

  “Almost.” Taking a deep breath, I gathered courage I prayed I possessed. Please don’t let this be the end, I prayed.

  “Almost?”

  “There’s something we need to talk about.”

  Wes shook his head. “No, Tara. We don’t.”

  “We do. We can’t have this between us,” I implored, sick to speak the words about to come out of my mouth.

  Adamantly, Wes continued to shake his head. “Trust me. What you think you need to tell me, you do not need to tell me. It is a conversation we should not have.”

  Could he possibly be talking about the same thing? Had Julien already said something to him.

  “We have to. You have to hear this from me.”

  “No, Tara. Trust me on this. I do not. It is best not to have the conversation you think we need to have. Trust me. I know me and I’m telling you. You do not need to verbalize this.”

  “I don’t want it between us.”

  “It’s not going to be between us.”

  “Are you sure?” I searched his eyes. He had to be talking about me and Julien.

  “I’m positive and it is nothing I ever want to discuss. Please trust me on this one.”

  Looking down in my lap, I studied the shade of pink on my fingernails. “Okay, I’m going to honor that. I just want to say one thing.” I looked up at him. “I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. And I hope you know that I think the world of you and I consider our paths crossing again to be a huge, huge gift. One that I really cherish. I hope you know that.”

  “I do know that, Tara and that is exactly why the conversation you think needs to take place really does not need to take place and would actually be detrimental. This is about moving forward. From here. Now. Not the past
.”

  He knew. He knew. And he still wanted to move forward with me. I closed my eyes and let the relief wash over me. What Wes and I felt for one another. The potential of what we could be was so much greater than Julien’s toxic energy and games. I let the power of that wash over me as if cleansing my soul, which hit rock bottom that Sunday morning when I mistakenly and naively believed that Julien Matthews actually had a heart, foolishly allowing him to use and disregard me in his sick and misguided quest to prove his manhood. I had momentarily given him power, which yes, I did regret, but I had cut it off before that day even ended. Something he made very clear to me that he resented. The man did not like having his power usurped.

  Picking up the pitcher of rum and somethings, I filled both our glasses with the slushy concoction.

  “To exploring us. And really getting to know one another. Finally.” We clinked glasses, both taking a sip and laughing.

  “I’ve never felt more right about anything.” Wes’ smile had the effect on me it had had fifteen years before.

  “I’m so nervous.”

  He laughed. “I know.”

  “Like I don’t know how to do this. I don’t want to mess this up.”

  “No pressure. As much time as you need for things to feel right.”

  I nodded, glad he wasn’t pushing me into the physical aspects, even though I’d yearned for that from the night I met him. Here I had jumped into things with men around him, but with Wes, I needed to do this right.

  “I appreciate that. But there is one thing.”

  “What is that?” he asked, his smile warm.

  “Your lips. I’ve always been a bit obsessed with them. They look so soft.” Leaning forward on my knees, I raised my right hand to his cheek as I brought my lips to his. I could feel his smile as I softly tasted his rum sweetened lips beneath mine and he began to kiss me back, a soft exploration that grew in intensity, leaving me breathless, as I always knew it would.

  Taking my face in both his hands, he covered my lips in kisses. Strong kisses with his full lips, kisses that clearly told me his intentions to make me his lover. Claiming kisses. Now that I’d tasted his lips, he left no question in my mind. Wes Bergman knew exactly what he had just done.