Together Again: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  I thrust it into my purse.

  Dammit, Brett. If he disappeared once, what’s going to stop him from disappearing again?

  I drove back home again, feeling confused.

  It isn’t just him, I thought sadly. It was, I realized slowly, that seeing him again had done more than reawaken my feeling about him. It had reawakened my heart. Reminded me of who I had been.

  And that was painful.

  I had managed to come to terms with my transformation. The change from principal dancer to waitress in a small restaurant. Or, at least, as much to terms as it was possible to come. I had really thought the dancer-me was dead, that there was no chance of me ever going back. That the door had well and truly closed and separated me from the dazzling, bright fire-bird who was Kerry-that-was.

  Now, he had reawakened me to who I had been. And the frustration of that was damaging me all over again.

  “Dammit, Kerry,” I swore at myself in the mirror. “You could be that again.”

  I knew my ankle would never actually take me to that level of professionalism again. But I had only been ordered a year out of the lifestyle. I could have gone back years ago. I might never have shone like I did, but I had the talent and the training and I could have made something of it.

  I just hadn’t.

  I realized now that I hadn’t, because I had given up on myself.

  I looked at my reflection. I was still pretty much as I ever had been, with that long red hair, the broad shoulders that came from years of training, the posture. But I was also so changed. I had shrunk, somehow, become smaller and more tatty. The same way, I realized, that Brett had changed.

  I sighed.

  I suddenly felt so sad. What had happened to me, to him? And why was he ignoring me? Had he come to the same conclusion that I had, all those years ago? That the fire-bird had been a dazzling illusion, and that inside her was plain, ordinary pigeon Kerry, who could never sustain such a splendid appearance for long?

  I started to cry.

  Damn Brett, I thought miserably. Damn my foot. Damn me.

  I let myself cry for a minute or two and then I went back inside again.

  “Hey,” Harry said. He frowned at me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine really. Just feeling under the weather.”

  “You sure you should be here today?” Harry asked. “I mean, are you sick?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  I sniffed. Maybe I wasn’t so useless and unlovable after all.

  Maybe Brett was just being difficult.

  I felt a little better after that self-reassurance.

  I smiled at Harry. “It’s okay,” I said gently. “I’m fine. Really.”

  He smiled. I looked into his caring eyes, and he flushed, blinking, and looked down.

  “Uh… sorry,” he murmured. “I need to check the cake in the oven.” He walked over to the stove, fussed around with it.

  I looked at the wall, trying not to make him feel awkward. I felt my heart settle down a bit.

  “How’s it looking?” I asked, amazed by how level my voice sounded.

  “Good,” Harry said. “I can take it out in a minute or two, I bet. How are you?”

  I smiled. “I’m okay. I guess I just get a bit down sometimes.”

  “You should talk to someone,” Harry said sincerely. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be me, or anything,” he added. He looked shy again.

  “I would like to talk,” I said gently. “I really appreciate it. But,” I sighed softly, “it’d probably be helpful if I waited till I understand what the heck is going on myself, before I talk.”

  “You don’t have to wait,” Harry said. “But, if you want, that’s great. Whenever you want to talk, remember I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” I said sincerely. I meant it. It would be great to have someone to talk to. I looked at Harry surreptitiously from the corner of my eye as he went to the stove to get out the ingredients for the frosting. I really had no idea he cared.

  He laid the ingredients out on the counter, and then looked up at me. He smiled. I smiled back.

  “Okay, guys,” Braden said, walking in briskly. “We need two orders of coffee and a cream cake at table six. Let’s go.”

  He looked from me to Harry, slightly confused. I laughed.

  “It’s okay, Braden,” I said. “I was just sad. I feel better now.”

  “You do? Oh, good,” he said. His handsome face looked genuinely worried.

  I smiled in reassurance and got back to work.

  “Aw, thanks, you guys,” I said, really meaning it. “You’re so nice to me.”

  They both chuckled.

  “Of course we are,” Harry said.

  “Why wouldn’t we be? You’re nice, Kerry,” Braden said, then blushed. He went off to go and get cups for the coffee.

  He’s right. I forgot there were kind people in this world.

  As I went to lay out the cream cake on a plate, my hands doing the work on autopilot, I thought about how I’d never realized how much they cared for me.

  I had never thought about it before, that people might love me for who I was.

  You didn’t need to be famous, I realized, to be loved.

  That came from who you were.

  CHAPTER 7: BRETT

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was terrible. It was worse, in its way, than a drug. At least there, you stopped thinking about the drug when you were high. With Kerry, thoughts of her sneaked up on me at the weirdest moments.

  I was sitting at the breakfast table on Friday morning, drinking my coffee and suddenly I was dreaming of her, remembering the sweet warmth of her smile.

  I felt my body ache with arousal and my heart ache with misery and I sighed. I’d had enough.

  I drained my coffee and stood, heading to the park. I wasn’t dressed for jogging, but all I really wanted was to take a brisk walk in the morning sunshine.

  I sat down on a bench. Even at this time, the park had people in it—an old man walked a small dog. Kids ran and played on the climbing gym. Two women sat on a bench and chatted, eating ice-cream.

  I felt alone.

  I had my phone in my pocket and I took it out, hesitating. I still didn’t know what I should do. It had been a few days since I saw Kerry and part of me said I would be best just to walk away and stay out of touch.

  As I looked at her picture I felt a pang of longing. I wanted her so much. I recalled how sweet her smile was, the way her eyes shone when she was lying there in bed, that big satisfied grin on her face that made my blood rush…

  Dammit! Get out of my head.

  I stood and walked restlessly through the park. I passed kids yelling as they chased each other, two old guys talking loudly about some news event, the girls with some ice cream, gleefully gossiping. I then headed out and into the street.

  I was striding down the sidewalk toward the main street, planning on maybe catching a bus and getting out of town for a while, when I saw it.

  The Hill View restaurant.

  Kerry’s employers.

  I froze. Should I go in? I wanted to. It felt almost as if my feet went that way without my conscious will for them to do so. I stopped and thought about it. If I went in, I could at least tell her that I was having difficulties, which was why I hadn’t let her know about her plans.

  I stopped and looked around. It was broad daylight on a busy city street. How likely was it, I reasoned, that anyone from any gang—local or otherwise—happened to be watching me? How likely was it that any of them would even have recognized me if they happened to be out on the street?

  Come on, Brett. You can be too paranoid sometimes.

  I took a deep breath and walked into the restaurant.

  “Morning, sir,” the waiter said to me. “Table for one?”

  “Um… okay,” I said. He gave me strange look and I realized how weird that must have sounded. I cleared my throat. “I just want a coffee,” I added. Like that made it any less weird.
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  “Okay,” he said again. He headed off into the back.

  I sank down into the chair, feeling at once weary and nervous. Where was she? It might not even be a work-day for her! Maybe she wasn’t even here. Maybe…

  “Your coffee, sir,” the voice of my dreams said.

  “Um. Thanks.” I looked up.

  She stared at me. She froze, her hand on my table, still holding the coffee. I had the rare pleasure of seeing her look disconcerted. So many expressions went over her—surprise, pleasure, bewilderment and, finally, anger.

  “What the…” she hissed. “How did you get here?”

  I laughed. Indicated the door.

  She scowled at me. “Stop trying to be smart, Brett,” she snapped. I recognized the sharp anger that I remembered so well. Like fireworks, it came out quickly and went quickly. I smiled and she sighed.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just couldn’t resist. Thanks, by the way,” I said. I raised the coffee to my lips.

  She shook her head wearily. “You know,” she said darkly, “sometimes I don’t know why I don’t just avoid you.”

  I laughed. “Kerry… don’t be mad,” I said. It was a cry from our earlier days and she looked at me with those big skeptical eyes.

  “Maybe I won’t be.”

  I laughed and saluted her with the coffee. “That’s a beginning,” I said.

  “It’s better than what I should do,” she said, still cross. “How dare you…”

  “Excuse me?” A man at the next table hailed her. She shot me a look.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

  “Good.”

  She went and took the order and I watched her go into the back. I noticed a guy give me a strange look and, guessing by the look on his face when he saw her come back again, I guessed he was hating me right now. I beamed.

  I watched her as she moved between the tables. The guy’s crush on her made me see her with new eyes. I had known her for so long that I hadn’t stopped to consider how remarkable she was for someone who hadn’t grown used to her limp walk, her masses of red hair, that wry smile. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, so I guessed she must have been so for other people too.

  She set out an order on another further table and then went out again. I had finished my coffee. I stood to settle the bill. I would have felt awful with Kerry fetching it.

  When I had paid, I lingered at the door. When I saw her come back I went over to the entrance from the kitchen.

  “Kerry,” I said softly. “Can I speak to you for a bit?”

  She raised a brow. She still looked really fed up.

  “Come on,” she said tiredly. “If you go out that way,” she indicated a door by the bathroom that I hadn’t noticed earlier, “you can get into the yard. I’ll pop out there in a bit.”

  I raised a brow. “Thanks,” I said.

  She sighed wearily. “Don’t mention it. Like, don’t. I could get fired for this.”

  I nodded. I felt bad. I made a mental note not to keep her out there long and then sneaked out round the back to the yard.

  In the paved space with the thick, high wall, I felt like I was in another world. I had never actually been out round the back of a restaurant before, and it felt weird. I looked around, studying the gray tarmac, the mossy wall, the arrangement of dumpsters, neatly marked and lined up. I was just moving toward the bike parked out near the big wrought-iron gate-way when I heard someone clear their throat.

  “Hey.”

  I smiled and went over to her.

  “Hey,” I said. She was on the step and I looked up at her. She was so stunning. She wore black for work, which was a color she always hated, saying it washed her out. It did go rather stunningly with her hair, I had to admit. And the way the uniform clung to her narrow waist did weird things to my heart-rate.

  “So?” she asked. She was still mad at me.

  I sighed. “Kerry, I’m sorry,” I said. “I… there’s a lot of stuff going on in my life right now,” I said. “It was because of that I couldn’t get in touch earlier.”

  “Stuff that concerns me?” She asked.

  I could tell she was trying to be angry, as her voice was all tense and hard, and her face was neutral, her eyes inscrutable. All the same, I knew her well enough to see the tender down-turn at the corner of her mouth, the way her hand was balled in a fist.

  “It’s stuff that concerned me,” I said. “I mean—it’s not like I have anyone else in my life, if that’s the kind of stuff you are worried about. Basically,” I frowned, “it’s stuff from the last five years. Stuff I should have sorted out ages ago. I just don’t want it to make trouble for you.”

  “Oh,” she said, uamusingly. “Well, I guess I should let you sort out your stuff, then.”

  I could still hear the flat indifference in her voice, so unlike her warm, cheery voice of everyday that it hurt my heart. I sighed.

  “Kerry,” I said. I hadn’t meant it to come out all tense and tight, but it did. I cleared my throat.

  She had been about to go in, but she stopped midstride and turned.

  “What?” she asked. I looked into her brown eyes. They sparked with hurt. I could almost see the tears standing proud in them. It twisted my heart, painfully.

  “Kerry, I’m sorry,” I said.

  She blinked once, rapidly, to keep the tears back.

  “You might have let me know.”

  I winced at the hurt in her voice. “I really am sorry,” I said.

  She said nothing. Just stood there and tried not to cry. That was more than I could stand. I went up the three steps from the yard and wrapped my arms around her. We kissed.

  My tongue slid into her mouth and my body ached with longing and I couldn’t believe, couldn’t understand, how I had stayed away from her for so long. As I pressed that sweet, curved body toward mine, my tongue pressed between her lips, I felt my longing surge inside me and I knew I had to have her again and soon.

  I couldn’t live without that.

  I could taste her sweet mouth on my tongue and feel her in my arms. I reached up and stroked her head.

  When she looked back at me, I could see her eyes were shining as mine were. I was shivering. I wanted her so much I had no idea how I was going to calm down and walk out onto the street without someone noticing how majorly aroused I was.

  “Kerry,” I whispered.

  She smiled and our hands met. I stood looking at her. I noticed that her lips were still wet from the kiss and just seeing that made my loins ache.

  “Brett,” she said. “I have to go.”

  Almost as if someone had orchestrated it, I heard someone call from inside the restaurant.

  “K? Where the heck are you? I need help here…”

  “Oh, geez,” she said with a skewed smile. “Braden. Gotta go.”

  “Where should I go?” I whispered urgently. Interested though I was in the yard outside the restaurant, I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life trapped inside of one.

  She grinned. “Count to fifteen and then go out the same place you went in. That way, no one knows if you were with me.”

  I nodded. I waited for her to disappear into the kitchen, shutting the scuffed brown door behind her. Then I did as she had said I should.

  One. Two. Three…

  Feeling a bit like a magician, I went through the door on the count of fifteen. Unlike a magician, nothing remarkable had happened. In the restaurant, the place was exactly as it had been the few minutes before when I left. Businessmen still argued, families shared news and friends chatted. I was on the edge of the room, looking in.

  Unlike when I went out, something remarkable had happened.

  I had seen Kerry and kissed her.

  The scene in the room might be the same, but I had changed and so everything had. I noticed things that before I would never have noticed—the sunshine, the fact that the walls were painted in two different colors—a pale grayed beige and a sort of oatmeal. It fel
t like, as my heart woke up, the rest of my senses had too.

  “I have an order for the famous granola?” I heard her voice saying at a table.

  I felt myself smile as I watched the people respond to her, both smiling and laughing. What’s famous about it? I wanted to ask. I heard one of the customers make a joke and Kerry laughed. They both smiled. Kerry might not have known it, but she had star quality here too, I thought.

  I recalled seeing her on stage for the first time. When she burst on in that dance, I had not thought I could actually be seeing such a meticulous and wonderful thing. I really thought I had imagined her. She was amazing. So intense, so alive. I remembered watching her, mesmerized. I think I loved her then, but didn’t know it yet. I had certainly felt a kind of wonder as I saw her. My eyes had hung on her every motion.

  When the curtain went down, I remembered staring at her. I couldn’t help it. Her movements were so fluid and breathtaking! I smiled and remembered how I had grinned at her then. I hadn’t realized she could see me from there. She had, though, and had smiled back.

  That memory of that smile was easily one of my most precious.

  I was feeling dazed as I left the café, and I could still taste her kisses on my lips. I found my way to the bench in the park and sat down slowly. I sighed.