Unwritten

by Kiki Hamilton

  I got out of the chair and leaned on one of the silver bars along the bed. “Say, you want me to go get you a popsicle?” My dad loved popsicles. Especially the blue ones. “I think they’ve got a frig full of them down the hall.”

  “Phillie said you’re bringing a date.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Is it that French model you mentioned?”

  I blinked in surprise. I’d forgotten I’d told him about Simone. A twinge of guilt shot through me. “No. Somebody else.”

  “A new girlfriend?”

  I forced a laugh. “No Dad, just a friend.” But somehow my words felt like a lie.

  “You’re almost twenty-five—a quarter of a century—you ever think of getting married? Starting a family?”

  “Nope. Haven’t met the right girl yet, Dad. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time.” But against my will, I had the clearest image of a little blond girl with crazy hair named Lili.

  ON MY WAY home Simone called.

  “Oliver, my darling, what are you doing? I miss you so much. When can I see you again?”

  “It’s going to be four or five weeks, Simone. I’ll have to wait and see how my dad does after the surgery.”

  “But I don’t want to wait that long. Your father’s surgery isn’t until next week. What are you doing this weekend? Could you fly to New York?” She lowered her voice. “I will make you glad you did.”

  I let out a long sigh like I was disappointed. “I’d love to, bebe, but I can’t. I have a family dinner on Saturday that I can’t miss. I wish I could.”

  Simone’s voice changed and I could tell she was angry. But then, she always was when she didn’t get her way. “Then I will ask Laurent to take me to a fancy restaurant this weekend so I am not alone.”

  In the past, that threat might have made me—what? Not jealous, but more unsure of my relationship with Simone—what I felt for her, what I needed to be for her. It would have forced me to choose if I was ready to give her up. If I were honest, I enjoyed going to the hottest nightclubs and restaurants with a supermodel on my arm, but tonight, her comment only brought me relief.

  “That sounds like a great idea, Simone. You always have fun with Laurent.” I thought about saying ‘take him to Antoine’s on Madison—maybe the manager will remember you and comp your meal without having to put your own hair in it’ but luckily my self-restraint won that battle.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I was waiting by the front door when Oliver came to pick me up for lunch on Friday. Nobody was home and I wanted to escape before my family or the new son they’d adopted returned and peppered us with questions. I wasn’t ready to share whatever was happening between Oliver and I with my overly inquisitive family. There would be plenty of time for that later. If there was a later.

  Oliver was dressed casually again in jeans and a black jacket. His cheeks were ruddy as if he’d been out in the cold air. To my surprise, he handed me a thick leather jacket when I answered the door.

  “Here—put this on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to need it.”

  Like an obedient child I slid my arms into the sleeves of the jacket that was clearly too big for me. It was very warm, though, with a thick lining under the leather. It was much too big for me, and I held my arms out from my sides to demonstrate how the sleeves hung past my hands.

  “Uh…Houston…we have a problem.”

  “It’s no problem. You’re going to be glad for those long sleeves in a few minutes.” He stepped close and to my surprise, gathered the ends of the jacket and matched up the bottom section of the zipper. Once he got one side threaded, he zipped the jacket up, slowing as he went over my chest. In one of those ironic twists, as he zipped the jacket and covered me, I’d never felt more exposed in my life.

  My breath came out in jagged little huffs and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his beautiful face: the contours that his cheekbones created, the dark lashes that concealed his startling blue eyes as he concentrated on the zipper. All I knew was that his fingers were on my breasts (even through there were two layers of clothes and a coat between our skin) and my heart had stopped beating.

  “There you go.” He dropped his hands and glanced up, seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to me. “Ready?”

  “I guess.” I pushed the sleeves back so I could sling the strap of my purse over my neck and followed him out the door. “Where are we going?” I asked, inexplicably happy, even though the sleeves had slid down over my hands again and I looked like I was wearing his jacket. Had I not been wearing a walking cast I might have considered skipping but instead I thumped behind Oliver along the curving path from our front door to the driveway. I looked around his shoulders to see if we were driving the Porsche again and stopped in my tracks.

  “What’s that?”

  Parked in the driveway, leaning slightly to the left, stood a mean-looking charcoal and black Ducati. Two helmets sat on the seat.

  Oliver grinned at me over his shoulder. “This one’s mine.”

  He picked up one of the helmets and held it out to me. “C’mere, I’ll help you.” He slid the helmet over my head and fastened the chin strap like an expert. I liked how close he stood to me, and I longed to reach out and touch him.

  “Not too tight?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good.” He slid the face shield down then in a swift movement strapped on his own helmet. He climbed on the bike first, then held his hand out to steady me as I threw my leg over.

  He pointed. “See the pegs for your feet?” Once I had my feet positioned correctly he said, “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold tight.”

  He didn’t have to ask twice. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his trim waist. There was no way not to press my chest against his back so I finally relaxed and enjoyed the feel of his muscular body against mine. He started the bike and a deep rumbling vibrated through my entire body in a completely satisfying way—as if I had suddenly had become powerful like a superhero.

  Oliver goosed the throttle and I jerked back with a shriek before I reflexively tightened my grip around his waist. I could hear him chuckling.

  “Hold tight,” And with a roar, we were off.

  I’D NEVER BEEN on a motorcycle before but I loved it. (Though the driver might have had a little something to do with it, too.) To ride was to fly. The speed, the wind, the freedom—total exhilaration. It didn’t take long to be thankful that my hands were covered inside the sleeves of the jacket, because the air was already cool and with the speed of the bike, the wind had a real bite to it.

  It took me a while to have enough confidence to lean with Oliver when we turned corners, as my instinct was to lean the opposite way, but he finally convinced me that I was throwing off the balance of the bike and increasing the chance we might fall.

  “Trust me,” he said over his shoulder.

  I wondered if this adventure was a metaphor for my life.

  OLIVER HANDLED THE bike like he seemed to handle everything in life: with skill and ease. We soared over the I-90 floating bridge toward the Eastside, then wove through traffic like we were invincible. In no time we were out on some country lane surrounded by giant evergreens, that made me feel small and hidden from the rest of the world. He wove back and forth around the white stripes on the road in a wavy pattern; he gunned the engine and we flew; We were going nowhere and somewhere—wherever the road led us. It was wonderful. Oliver finally pulled into the gravel parking lot of a small burger stand and cut the engine.

  He held his hand out to steady me as I climbed off then threw a leg over and stood next to me. He was six foot-three to my five foot-three and in that moment I felt like he was the stalwart prince who had stolen me away on his stallion to a hidden hideaway. That is, if one could consider a roadside burger joint to be a hidden hideaway.

  “Ever been to Big Tom’s before?” He ran his fingers through his hair and the dark strands stood up in beautiful little waves as if they’d just be
en styled. “Best burgers in Washington. I came here all the time when I was growing up. My mom and dad and my brothers and I would go fishing nearby and we’d stop and get a burger every trip.” He looked around. “This place hasn’t changed in twenty years. That’s why I wanted to bring you. There are good memories here.”

  “It smells delicious.” The wafting aroma of the grill made my mouth water and reminded me of my own summers growing up. Oliver grabbed my hand and pulled me up to the window where he pointed at the menu that was painted on a board and affixed to the side of the small building. “The cheeseburgers are the best. You game?”

  I nodded, more focused on the fact he was holding my hand then whatever was written on the menu.

  He nodded to the girl in the window. “Two deluxe cheeseburgers, large order of fries with goop and two chocolate milkshakes.” He glanced at me for confirmation, then dropped my hand to reach into his back pocket for his wallet. After he paid, I followed him over to a picnic bench painted bright red and set in a grassy area.

  “Get ready for the best meal you’ve had in a long time.”

  “Is this where you take all your special dates?” I asked with a smile.

  Something flickered in his expression. “Actually, Alexis, you’re the first.”

  I raised my eyebrows and gave him a teasing smile. “Oh. I’m honored. That must mean I’m really special. Or else you’re afraid to be seen in public with me.”

  He laughed. “There is always that possibility.”

  I made a face at him, but the truth of the matter was in that moment I understood what his flaw was. It wasn’t that he wanted another career, or a flashy girlfriend to show off—his flaw was that he was afraid of being hurt. Because in my heart, I knew that this was the real Oliver—not the New York attorney, date a supermodel, drive the Carrera Oliver—this was where my Oliver lived—the artist, the boy who missed his mother, the man with the candy heart—and whether he knew it or not—it meant something that he had chosen to bring me here, to the place he considered special.

  It was only a few minutes before they brought our food and we dug in.

  “Don’t worry,” Oliver replied as he slurped his milkshake out of the straw. “Tomorrow will be more public than you could possibly want.” He took a giant bite of his cheeseburger, chewed a few bites and flashed his half-chewed food at me, then grinned. “Is that special enough?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  More than once I thought about driving the Carrera past the exit and just keep going. If only this night was over. I was nervous as I drove up to Alexis’ house to pick her up. Like knee-knocking, first-date nervous. I had regretted my decision to invite her a hundred times since Thursday. Why would I take anyone I knew to a family dinner with my stepmother? What insanity had prompted me to ask Alexis? And if Simone were to find out—even though ours was not a conventional relationship, Simone was very possessive of my attention. If she found out that I’d been spending time with Alexis, that I had taken someone else to dinner—I suspected the shit would fly.

  I rang the doorbell and straightened my tie one last time before I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. Five more hours and it would all be over. I could handle this.

  I was expecting Alexis’ dad to open the door but instead, Alexis stood there—looking like I’d never seen her before.

  “Wow.” My jaw sagged as I took in the new Alexis. Her walking cast was gone and she looked sleek and shockingly beautiful. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the crown of her head and cascaded down her back in loose curls. She wore a black dress with a V neck that revealed curves to which I had obviously not paid enough attention and heels that emphasized how long and slender her legs were. Her makeup covered the smattering of freckles that usually dotted her nose, giving her an elegant and sophisticated air. It was like looking at someone I thought I knew, but really didn’t. “Jesus, Lex, you look like a knockout.”

  She looked pleased. “Thank you, but I still limp. The doctor said that would be gone in a week or so.” She turned to get her coat and I hurried forward to help her. I could hardly believe my eyes. She was as gorgeous as any of those models that strutted the catwalk with Simone. How had I never seen that before?

  I held my arm out to her as we walked to the car. “If your leg still feels weak, hold on to me.”

  Her lips curved and my heart skipped a beat. “How very gallant. Thank you, Sir Oliver.”

  Instead of wishing for the night to be over, suddenly I wanted it to last forever.

  “WHERE ARE WE going?”

  In the enclosed space her perfume floated around my head like an airborne intoxicant and for a fleeting second I wondered if I could take her back to my father’s house after dinner for a drink and whatever else the Fates would bless me with.

  “Canlis.”

  “Oo la la,” she said in an impressed sort of voice. “The big leagues.”

  I glanced over at her. She was staring out the front window, looking at the city lights. Her earrings glittered in the light of the passing cars and she looked mysterious and powerful. Something that felt like longing stirred in my gut. “Have you ever been?”

  “Not hardly. Not in my budget.”

  “It’s not in very many people’s budgets—I’m sure that’s why Estelle picked it. She married well before and after my father, and she loves to flaunt her money in our faces every chance she gets.”

  “Hmmmm…that complicates things, doesn’t it?”

  “How’s that?”

  “Do we act impressed by the restaurant choice or do we act bored because we’re not in New York or do we just act pleasant and pretend we’re enjoying our evening together?”

  I sensed her question was a test of some sort, but sadly, I wasn’t sure which was the right answer. I mulled it over as we drove, trying to think like an attorney and detach the emotion that always clouded my judgment where my family was involved.

  “Act pleasant?” I answered in the form of a question. Alex Trebek would have been proud of me.

  “Why yes. And enjoy our evening together. That seems like the best choice.” She reached over and slid her fingers into my palm. I instinctively wrapped my hand around hers. “Who knows, Ollie? It might be fun.”

  I OFFERED ALEXIS my arm as the hostess led us to the table.

  “Are you feeling brave?” I whispered.

  Some of her earlier bravado had disappeared and she gave me a worried look. “They’re not going to eat me alive, are they?”

  “Possibly, but I’ll try to fend them off. By the way, I haven’t told them of the accident or how we met. Actually, I haven’t told them anything other than I was bringing you tonight.”

  She smiled. “Excellent. Let’s make up some good lies, okay?”

  ESTELLE CAME TO dinner unattended, which must have meant she was between husbands. I’d lost count long ago of how many she’d had. There had been one or two that we knew of before my father and at least one after. She was an attractive woman and prided herself on her looks. It wouldn’t be long before she snagged husband number four—or was it five? I couldn’t bring myself to kiss her cheek, so instead I focused on helping Alexis into her chair, then introduced Phil and Suzette. Nick introduced us to his very-pregnant finance, Jillian. After the ‘nice-to-meet-you’s’ I sat down and took a deep breath—let the games begin.

  PHIL AND NICK made a special effort to keep the conversation flowing during dinner, telling stories and asking questions. Several times during the course of the meal I could feel Estelle’s eyes on me, but I ignored her. My father’s surgery was scheduled for Thursday. I figured three to four weeks at best and I could return to New York. I wondered how much longer Alexis was going to stay in Seattle now that her casts were off.

  Alexis was a superstar. Maybe it was her training as a waiter but she never seemed flustered or uncomfortable. She chatted easily with everyone and looked gorgeous while she did it.

  “Alexis,” Phil asked, “h
ow did you and Oliver meet?”

  I looked over at her, curious how she would explain our meeting. I swear her eyes were twinkling when she answered. “I met Ollie at work.”

  The silence that fell over the table was absolute. With the exception of Jillian, who couldn’t have possible known, I think every mouth dropped open as their eyes skittered from her to me. Dammit. I had forgotten to tell her.

  “What is it?” Alexis looked from Phil to Nick with a questioning gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  Phil spoke first. “You call him Ollie?”

  “It’s fine, Phil.” I spoke in a harsher tone than I intended. “Just leave it alone.”

  “Sometimes.” Alexis turned to me with a puzzled expression. “Why?”

  Of course, Phil had to say it. “It’s just that Oliver hasn’t allowed anyone to call him Ollie since our mom died when he was ten. It was a surprise, that’s all.”

  Alexis didn’t even blink. She slid her hand over mine and smiled. “Well, things are different now.” And that was that.

  “Alexis is a writer,” I said, searching for a way to change the subject. “Her book is on submission right now.” And the conversation went on from there. But that didn’t stop me from wondering, yet again, how she could understand things about me that even I wasn’t clear about.

  WE WERE ALMOST through with dinner when Estelle zeroed in on me. She’d always taken special pleasure in trying to make me uncomfortable, to pick fights, even when I was a child. I guess because she couldn’t control me, I became a challenge to her.

  “Oliver.”

  The woman’s voice made the hackles rise on the back of my neck.

  “How long have you and your pretty friend been dating?” Her eyes slid over to Alexis and I wondered how many glasses of wine Estelle had consumed. It was a reliable way to measure how vicious she might be. “Any future plans we should know about?”