One Chance

by Best, Victoria J.

  It was my turn to shrug. “I think it’s the winter weather. I’m kind of over it,” I lied.

  She shot me a look filled with skepticism. “Are you sure it’s not Henry?”

  I let out a deep sigh. I didn’t want to be that friend. The downer. The one who was always complaining when their friends were happy. But I also knew that keeping things bottled up wouldn’t help me in any way. Dr. Harper would be proud of me.

  “Maybe. A little. It’s been different since he came home, but that’s mostly my fault.”

  Liza raised an eyebrow at me. “Your fault? How?”

  I followed her to the register as I mulled over how much to give away. But this was Liza, my best friend. I could tell her anything and she wouldn’t tell anyone.

  “I told him I didn’t want to be with him, that I only wanted to be friends,” I confessed as she set her dresses on the counter and the woman began to ring them up.

  “What? Why?” She said the words loudly and her eyes went wide as she spoke. The woman behind the register stopped and gave us a look.

  Liza leaned closer to me, turning her back on the woman and the register. “What happened, Nicolette?”

  I sighed again, trying to sort the words out in my head first. “I don’t want to be the reason he starts drinking again.”

  Liza squinted at me. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m worried it will be a co-dependent situation. You know, with my problems and his problems. His history with drinking and mine with—” I didn’t finish the sentence, because the cashier was looking at us again. Liza knew what I meant. “Besides, you aren’t supposed to start new relationships for a year when you’re in treatment. I’d only make it more difficult for him.”

  Liza made a face. “I don’t know, Nic. That sounds like excuses to me. It sounds like you’re scared.”

  “No, it’s not that.” I grew defensive, walking away from her because I knew she couldn’t follow me until she’d paid for her clothes.

  I kept going until I reached the escalators, debating whether I should go down and wait for her outside when she rounded the corner.

  “Why did you walk away from me?” Liza asked with irritation. “I was trying to help.”

  “Never mind. I’m sorry we brought up Henry. I don’t really want to talk about it,” I snapped at her, mounting the escalator so that she had no choice but to come with me if she wanted to continue to talk.

  “Why are you acting like this, Nicolette? I thought you wanted to talk it out?”

  I couldn’t see her face because she was behind me, but I could picture the aggravation on it in my head.

  “I didn’t. You did. And it doesn’t matter what you say, you won’t change my mind. I said what I said to Henry for his own good and mine. We would destroy each other, Liza. I just know it.”

  She shook her head, stepping off the escalator behind me as I tried to walk away from her. Her hand circled my arm, making me stop.

  Her face was serious, her voice low as she leaned in to speak. “You know that isn’t true, right? You know that, according to Jax, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to Henry.”

  I shook my head, unable to believe her. “I’m damaged. I have too much baggage. I’ve hid it from everyone for a really long time and pretended to be the innocent, perky socialite, but that’s not me, Liza. You remember what I told you?”

  I pivoted out of her grip, walking as fast as I could to the first exit I could find. I had to get out of there. By the time I exited the store, my face was burning, my eyes blurry with unshed tears.

  “Nicolette, please stop,” Liza called after me.

  I froze on the sidewalk, taking in my surroundings. I was on 34th street, looking towards the Empire State Building.

  “Nicolette!” She came up behind me as I looked down the street, willing a cab to materialize. “Please.”

  “Liza, these last two months have been so difficult for me. I’ve been trying to hold it together, but as we approach February twenty-fifth, which might I remind you, is the ten-year anniversary of my mom’s death, I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.” Tears streamed down my face.

  “No one is asking that of you, Nic. Especially not me. I want you to be who you need to be. So does your dad. So does Henry. You spend so much time worrying about what other people think, what other people need. You have to worry about what Nicolette needs for once.”

  Worry about what I need? What if I don’t know what that is?

  Before I could answer her, Liza pulled me into a tight hug. “I can’t leave for Italy next week if you aren’t okay. Do you want me to go with you to see Dr. Harper this week?” Liza searched my face for a reaction.

  I shook my head. “No. I have to do this on my own. You’re right. I have to stop worrying about how my dad will react if I talk about Mom. I have to stop worrying that Henry will relapse because of me. I have to do this on my own. It’s so strange to be on my own, living alone, taking care of myself. But I need to do this.”

  “Okay. At least let me go back to the apartment with you. We can order lunch and talk a little more.” Liza searched my face to make sure I was okay.

  I nodded. “Sure. I’ll call my dad and cancel lunch. I’m sure I’ll hear about it tomorrow.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry for running out on you,” I added, feeling my cheeks flush.

  Liza waved a hand at me as a cab stopped at the curb for us. “I was just worried about you. I don’t care about that.”

  We got into the cab and rode back uptown in silence. My mind raced, but this time it was racing with possibility. Liza was right, but until now I hadn’t wanted to take it seriously. Even Dr. Harper had told me that I was too much of a people-pleaser and that was where most of my anxiety stemmed from. What if I just let go and stopped worrying so much about everyone else?

  Chapter 26

  Henry

  “Congrats on the new job, cousin,” Jax said, patting me on the back as he walked into my parent’s elegant dining room.

  I looked up at him, flashing a smile. “Thanks. I’m eager to get started.”

  Behind him, Liza made her way to the table and sat down. She shot me a look, one I couldn’t identify, but didn’t say anything. I wondered what it was about, and opened my mouth to ask her when my parents entered the room. My mouth snapped shut, because as usual, my mother was a force, like a tornado or the eye of a hurricane. Everything surrounded her, bounced off her, and she sucked the energy from a room. I watched her as she glided to her chair, the Chanel pantsuit she wore all buttoned up without a hair out of place. My mother was the envy of all of the fashion world, second only to Coco Chanel herself, and it made so much sense why everyone revered and feared her.

  It made sense why I had such a hard time connecting with her.

  Mother air-kissed Jax and Liza before sashaying to her seat at the head of the table. My father took the other end, clapping both Jax and me on the back on his way to his seat.

  “I heard you start the new job on Monday?” Mother directed the question to the room, but I knew it was meant for me.

  “Yes. Mr. Walters seems like a nice guy,” I said to my mother but looked at my dad.

  Dad nodded. Mother pursed her lips.

  “He’s something, nice isn’t it. But he can get you ahead in the financial industry if that’s what you want to do,” she said.

  We all ignored her comment. Jax and Liza pretended to have their own conversation, my father filled his wine glass to the brim, and I took a long pull from my water glass. My mother sighed, loudly and dramatically, before standing to disappear into the kitchen.

  “Was anyone else waiting for her to leave the way I was?” my dad said.

  We all laughed, and I relaxed a little. It was my first family dinner since rehab, and I wasn’t going to let my mother set me back.

  Before I came home, my counselor asked if I was ready to face my mother, since she was the main trigger of my drinking. I told her it would be an exercise i
n control for sure, but that I was dedicated to maintaining my sobriety.

  But my mother could drive the sanest person to drink. I had my work cut out for me.

  “Is everyone ready for dinner? Randall has made us the most fabulous dinner tonight.” My mother swished back into the room, a cloud of perfume and elegance following her to make her declaration, hands gesturing wildly.

  “What are we having tonight, dear?” My father indulged her—always had—when moments ago he was tired of her antics. Their relationship resided in a tenuous balance.

  “Duck confit with a red beet salad. And a chocolate torte for dessert. I hope you brought your appetites!” My mother disappeared back into the kitchen to direct her kitchen staff as she had every night for the last twenty years.

  “No matter how many times I tell her, she always forgets that Liza doesn’t eat meat,” Jackson said from across the table, his brows furrowed with irritation.

  “‘Forgets?’” I asked, doing quotes with my fingers.

  Jax nodded. “It doesn’t suit Aunt Bea for Liza to be a vegetarian, so she won’t ever ‘remember.’”

  I shook my head. That was classic Mother. Always trying to rewrite history, or other people’s wants or needs to suit her own.

  “I’ll be fine, Jax. I can eat the salad,” Liza said, laying her hand on his arm to settle him.

  His face still wore a mask of frustration, but he nodded. Turning to my father, he changed the subject.

  “Uncle Hank, how is everything looking for the spring show? I was hoping everything would be financially figured out before Liza and I leave for Italy, but it seems that your department is holding us up.”

  My dad chuckled and held up his hands. “You can’t blame me for that. Those guys work at their own pace. I’ll try to light a fire under them on Monday, first thing.”

  Jax and my father fell into an easy conversation about the family business while Liza glanced at her phone which she had discreetly taken from her purse and placed in her lap. She shot me another look, trying to make it seem casual, but I could tell something was on her mind. Unlike the way she had been looking at me over a month ago that awful night at my mother’s benefit, her glances were furtive, almost questioning. It was like she wanted to tell me something or ask me something, but not in front of everyone else.

  Moments later, Mother returned from the kitchen with Gloria hot at her heels carrying a tray of food. I resisted rolling my eyes at her fanfare, knowing it would only set her off, by looking down at my hands where they rested on the table. Since Jax had begun bringing Liza to family dinners, Mother had been making more of a production of it than she had in recent years. I was hoping that once the novelty of trying to impress her wore off, we would be able to go back to our roast chicken dinners.

  Dinner was uneventful, with talk of my new job, the company, and Jax and Liza’s upcoming trip to Italy. Liza was giddy with an excitement that was visible to everyone at the table and somehow that lightened the mood. Not once did my mother bring up my stint in rehab, or throw it in my face in any way. I was grateful to Liza for the distraction.

  “So, are there any plans for a wedding in the near future?” my mother asked Jax and Liza with a sly smile on her face.

  Jax’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Liza, whose face had turned pink.

  “Not yet, Aunt Bea. We’ve only just started this relationship,” Jax answered her with more restraint than I thought he’d possessed.

  “We’re taking it slow and getting to know one another,” Liza added with a smile.

  “Well, let’s not wait too long or the tongues will be wagging,” Mother said, shaking her head.

  My father shot her a disapproving look and she shrugged.

  “I think it’s about time for dessert,” Dad said to break the tension that had begun to build.

  Mother hopped up from her seat. “Yes! I’ll have Gloria bring it to the sitting room.”

  As she walked away, I was unable to fight the eye-rolling urge any longer. The “sitting room” was our formal living room. For some reason, Mother had taken to calling it that after she and my father went on a trip to London about five years ago.

  It annoyed me on many levels.

  We all stood as she whisked away the plates to the kitchen, surprise on my father’s face that she was actually clearing the table for once. I was sure Gloria would get an earful about it.

  As we made our way to the living room, Liza gave me a look again, catching my eye. It was clear she wanted to talk to me about something.

  Or someone.

  Nicolette

  The look on her face from last Wednesday still lingered in my mind, haunting me at night. While she’d told me she only wanted to be friends, her eyes had given away something else. But I knew I couldn’t push her. I knew that with her mother’s suicide, her father’s overprotectiveness, and everything she had been through, that Nicolette needed to feel like she was in control of this situation. My roommate in rehab had lost his brother to suicide. In group therapy, they’d told him that a lot of his addiction stemmed from his need to control what was happening to him because he’d had no control over his brother’s fate.

  I saw that with Nicolette.

  It was the reason why she cared so deeply for others. Why she made herself crazy worrying that others were all right. I didn’t want her to worry about me. I wanted to show her that I was capable of maintaining my sobriety while also being there for her and being what she needed.

  But in order to do that, she would have to let me in.

  I leaned towards Liza as I sat down in the chair next to where she perched on the edge of the loveseat with Jax. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  Her eyes flicked to Jax, who was deep in conversation with my father about something work related, before she looked back at me.

  “I want to talk to you about Nicolette. Jax told me not to get involved, but I’ve never seen her like this and I’m worried.” There was an urgency in her gaze.

  I nodded. “I had a feeling that was it. What’s going on?”

  Liza shrugged, hesitating for a moment. “It’s not really anything specific, but you know Nicolette. She’s always so worried about everyone else that I think she’s getting lost in the hustle. She’s been seeing her therapist, and I see some changes in her, but since you came back from rehab, she’s been a little off.” Liza paused again, biting her lip as she appeared to weigh what she should and shouldn’t tell me.

  “What can I do to help?” I asked. I was desperate for any way to reconnect with Nicolette.

  With a sigh, she shrugged again. “I don’t want to betray her confidence, but I do know that Nicolette isn’t being truthful with you. She really likes you, Henry, and I think you two are good for each other. I see that now. But I think she needs help seeing it.

  “Give her something to work for, someone to help. Spend more time with her so that she can see that you are meant to be more than friends. That’s the only advice I can give you.” Liza sat back as Gloria and my mother burst into the room, coffee cups and plates of chocolate cake in their hands.

  “Hank, did you tell the kids about the benefit we are having for the foundation in March?” my mother said, interrupting everyone.

  But I was glad she did, because I’d gotten an idea.

  An idea to bring Nicolette back to me.

  Chapter 27

  Nicolette

  Monday came with another blast of arctic air and a headache. Winter was beginning to get me down, and I counted the days until the arrival of spring in New York. Not only for the warmer weather, but for the longer days and the lighter clothing.

  “Nicolette, you have a visitor.” The call from Rebecca, my assistant, came through the intercom just as I was tapping out two acetaminophen into my hand.

  “Who is it?” I asked as I swallowed them down with a swig of water.

  “Henry Radcliffe-Rogers,” she answered. “Should I send him back?”

  Henry?

>   I wavered a minute before I answered her, almost telling her I was too busy to see him. But that wasn’t the truth, and I did want to see him.

  “Sure, send him in,” I finally answered.

  My stomach somersaulted at the thought of seeing Henry after what had happened the last time we’d been together. Would I be able to maintain the distance I needed to keep him from getting too close again?

  A soft knock sounded on the door and I jumped, my head pounding. This was the third migraine in two days, and I wasn’t able to shake it. If it didn’t settle by tonight, I’d have to go see the doctor.

  “Come in,” I called, rubbing my temples but dropping my hands quickly as he opened the door.

  “Hey, Nic,” he said as he entered, his eyes drinking me in as he approached my desk.

  I did the same with him, taking in his appearance as my heart sped up. He looked sexy as hell, his hair growing back out to fall over his eyes and a light beard covering his face. He was wearing a gray suit with a tie that was almost the same shade of his eyes. I longed to run my fingers through his hair, to rub my face against his to feel the roughness as he kissed me.

  Where the hell were all these thoughts coming from? This was the opposite of maintaining distance.

  “Hi,” I croaked, clearing my throat. I motioned towards the chairs. “Please, sit down”

  He settled into a chair across from my desk, propping his foot on his knee.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, needing him to get straight to the point, so I could get back to work. So I could keep trying to force myself to forget about him.

  “I have something to ask you. I’ll completely understand if you don’t want to do it, but I could use your help,” he said, leaning towards my desk and placing his palms flat as he looked me in the eye.

  Those emerald orbs disarmed me, made my heart flutter, and my body heat in a way I was trying to avoid. I shifted in my seat, the headache becoming second to the discomfort I was feeling at his stare.