From This Day Forward

by Ketley Allison

  “Hey,” I said, and gently pried his hand away from his mouth. I’d learned that when he was nervous, he liked to rub his lips—his only tell in a body conditioned to be stone. I made sure he was looking at me when I said, “I love you.”

  He squeezed, but it was automatic, distracted. “I love you, too.”

  I leaned in. “And I want to thank you. For being mine.”

  Spence smiled, but wasn’t his usual lopsided grin.

  I continued, “But now it’s my turn to be yours. You’ve supported me through this year with the fortitude of a Greek god.”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the palm, his warm lips a reassurance I’d started to crave when I was without him.

  “You can do this,” I said. “You’ve worked too hard, and I’m not talking about these months of prep, I’m talking about your entire life. You will never be a failure, Spence. Not in my eyes.”

  “Honey,” he said.

  “I’m here for you. When you get home, at the end of all bad days, at the beginning of the good. So you go ahead and take on this morning with the knowledge that you are going to kick ass. And I’ll be on that couch, right there, waiting for you.”

  Spence pulled me from my seat until I was on his lap. His arms came around and I melted in, finding my favorite nook.

  “Thank you,” he said into my skin, before searing those words in with a kiss.

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I said.

  We stayed that way for a while longer, when the scarlet of the sun turned to gold, and until the summer blue skies awaited him.During the six-plus hours Spence was deeply ensconced in logic games, reading comprehension and essay writing, I summoned the nerve to check my grades online. If Spence could undergo and survive an all-day exam (and, if he was going to law school and ultimately taking the bar, it would be the first of many), I could sit my ass down in front of my computer and do the thing I’d been dreading since the semester ended four weeks ago. Especially with a trusty bottle of wine at my side.

  Spring had broken through the winter city smog before summer had spread her humid feathers across the July sky. Through the cracks and crevices of concrete and skyscrapers, the sun beamed down on the top of New Yorker’s heads with the heat only the closest blazing star could bring. It was cooler in the shade—by maybe a degree or two—but the city had plenty of it with all its manmade structures looming over sidewalls. In the brief time I spent at intersections, waiting for the lights to change and being forced to stand beside the stench of cooked, juicy city garbage housed in overfilled cans, sticky fingers of light managed to peek through and caress my neck and matte my hair.

  During the May mayhem of exams, I spent breaks between classes at the coffee shop with my laptop open and espresso in hand, creating detailed outlines because Harper and company were not going to get me this year. When I came to my notes for Harper, a smile pulled at me. Spence’s track changes were throughout, with helpful suggestions and dirty talk bolded in red. I heard his voice in his words and with it came delicious memories, but no. Back to it, damn it.

  Once the light crept behind the buildings, greying the minuscule piece of the city framed by my bedroom window, it was time to bite down and freaking click already. I gulped some wine, satisfied with enough liquid courage, and proud I hadn’t been totally distracted by my nerves for Spence to “forget” to check my results.

  When I entered in my student number, my phone beeped

  Spence: still going, somehow surviving. 5 min break right now. See you soon.

  I replied, strong like bull. Keep at it, and I’ll gift you with steak and lingerie for dinner.

  Right. Enough sexy dilly-dally. I put my phone away.

  Spence helped me thrive on my greatest trait: confidence. I didn’t worry about sounding like an idiot or being too obsessed or clingy. I didn’t overanalyze before saying something or considered hindsight on what I could’ve said to sound better, smarter. It was a new approach, one I didn’t mind trying out. It felt good to say what I wanted and be cared for either way. To not worry that if I mentioned the wrong thing, Spence would no longer be interested.

  He was solid. Rock steady. And when I looked to my future I sensed his presence every step of the way.

  All this meant I could totally read some letters on a digital screen and keep my heartbeat.

  Except my eyes were closed. I had to open them in order to see. I had to…I squinted one eye open, but the screen was too blurry, so I creaked it wider. Then my other eye. My grip on the wine stem glass was near to shattering.

  Introduction to Marketing A

  Foundations of Finance B+

  Operations Management A

  Business & Society A

  Financial Accounting Principles A-

  Dante in Modern Times B

  “YEEEAAAAAAAH!!!!!”

  I fist-pumped with my wine, red sloshing down the glass and onto my fingers, but I jumped up anyway, did a butt-jig, and took a celebratory gulp as I gyrated around my bed.

  Dante did not take away my scholarship. Harper did not send me into Hell. I did it!

  “I did it!” I said to the air. I even pulled out my phone and said to the black screen, “I did it, Spence! I freaking, fucking did it!

  Guys!” I said. I opened the door and Becca and Jade were standing in the middle of the den, arguing.

  “We had veggie-palooza last time!” Becca said to Jade, for some reason brandishing a fork in the middle of our living room. They were also facing off on either side of the coffee table. “I demand pepperoni!”

  “Do you know what kind of shit is in that pretend meat?” Jade countered.

  “Yes, salt, deliciousness, and spicy peppers—Emme! Perfect timing.” Becca turned to me, fork still in the air.

  “I’m having steak,” I said as I entered the room with my hands up.

  “But not until later, right? You can hang with us for a bit?” Jade asked.

  These past weeks, I’d been able to spend time with my two best friends, but not as much as I used to. With all our exams and end of semester papers, not to mention my recent addiction to Spencer Rolfe, we hadn’t had any of our usual girls’ nights in.

  At the sound of Jade’s voice, the tentative excitement, I caved. “Of course I can. I didn’t make reservations until nine.”

  Becca clapped her hands. “Excellent! Pizza and martinis as an appetizer. I’ll get started.”

  “If there are olives in the martinis, then no olives on the pizza!” Jade called after her.

  “I repeat, salty goodness!”

  I laughed. “I’ll join you on the couch in a sec,” I told Jade. “Just need to change into some comfy clothes.”

  In truth, I wanted to pack a few naughty things in my purse before I became too sauced with my friends and forgot to greet Spence in the planned fashion. I shut the door to my room and threw my tote and purse on the bed before heading to my dresser to search for the perfect pair of red lace lingerie I’d found while shopping with Jade last weekend.

  After a few seconds of riffling through and not finding it, I frowned. My underwear drawer wasn’t exactly organized, but with all the black, white and grey, pieces of red should pop. I hadn’t worn it at all, only hand-washed it once getting home, knowing I was going to save it for Spence’s celebratory dinner.

  “Ha!” I said once I spotted a slip of red silk. “Gotcha.”

  But…

  My drawer seemed emptier than usual. While I was pretty monochromatic, I did have a few cute pieces that I’d started to buy and wear once my sex life shot straight into space. No point in having Spence ravish me in full-coverage, white cotton undies every time. I swore I’d just washed the baby pink lace I had. Did I leave it at Spence’s? More and more of my clothing, usually undergarments, were getting lost over there. It wasn’t a long shot to think my clothes—even my favorites—were being strewn around two apartments.

  I turned back to my bed and stuffed the ruby thong and bra in my p
urse. I was going to change at Spence’s, since I’d left the black dress I’d planned to wear there, too. That was it. I’d probably packed my pink number along with the dress before buying the sexier red.

  I slipped out of my jeans and into yoga pants, as well as threw on Spence’s old high school sweater which was softer than kitten fur, and bonus, smelled like him. A torn piece of paper by my bedside caught my eye.

  What was this? I rounded the mattress and picked it up.

  I can’t stop thinking about you.

  The scrawl was done in a rush. It was on pink lined paper, torn from one of my notebooks I left on my desk to write down random reminders or memory triggers as I studied. Spence’s handwriting was pretty neat, but when he was in a time crunch or had been writing so long he got hand cramps, his letters would angle like this, above the lines.

  Although we usually chose text messages over notes, Spence was the type to write in the margins of my pages sometimes, things like, come over, and are you thinking of me naked right now? I wouldn’t put this scribble past him, especially since the last time he was here we were so absorbed in each other we nearly missed our exam and were sprinting around the room trying to locate each other’s clothing.

  The note creased in my grip. I realized I was participating in a logic game of my own. It was easier, more reassuring, to think Spence would write something like this and not Trev. Or Ed. Or any other man who had no place in my bedroom, around my things, breathing my scent.

  I fished out my phone. I’d text Spence, see if he decided to be cute and left the note—

  “Emme!”

  Becca burst into my room. I dropped the phone and nearly pinged my ass on the corner of the nightstand. I held my hands up, staring at the ceiling and restarting my heart.

  “It occurs to me you were screaming and stomping around excitedly a few seconds ago while behind your closed door,” she said. “Why is that?”

  “I got my grades back,” I said, my lips pulling wide. I dropped the note on the bed.

  “Omigod, and here I thought you were having a particularly epic masturbathon.” She strode forward and clutched my hands. “And?”

  “I’m still in!” I said, and soon we were both jumping up and down, our hands intertwined. “I can keep my scholarship!”

  “Girl!” Becca screeched, then enveloped me in her arms. “I knew it! Of course you could slay demons. You’re freaking Queen of the Undead!”

  “Jade!” I called as we continued to bounce. “Get in here!”

  Becca halted our leaps and released me. “Jade is currently in the midst of putting gin in our martinis instead of vodka. Stop her.”

  I finished stuffing my belongings in my purse, then zipped it up. “Yeah, yeah, Referee Beauregard to the rescue.”

  “Good,” Becca said as she spun around. “I think she’s trying to poison me.”

  I followed her to the door. “With vegetables and alcohol?”

  “Only one of those things is worth dying for, but I draw the line at gin.”

  I hooked an arm through hers. “Which is why you have me. To prevent any sudden roommate deaths. What movie are we watching again?”

  “It’s got Brad Pitt,” Becca said instead of answering.

  “Ah. World War Z.”

  “It’s good! You know it!’

  “And you wonder why Jade is trying to commandeer the bar.”

  “Spence is coming over later, right? He’ll side with me…”

  “Have I not told you? Gin and tonic is his favorite drink…”

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  Becca’s voice faded out of my bedroom as we laughed and argued, elbowing each other after every point. I separated myself from the image, panning out behind us like a camera would. First the doorway, then the white walls of my room with my comforter of clouds swallowed by the multi colors of throw pillows. My desk sat silent, laptop still open and chair angled to the side from when I’d leapt out of it. Droplets of spilled red wine splattered the cheap laminate, the bottle a third of the way finished and forgotten. The handwritten note, no longer on my comforter, was lost as I’d gathered up my things. Maybe it had fallen to the hardwood, to be swept under my bed or sucked up from a vacuum, I would never know. I never saw it again.

  A bird’s eye view of my bedroom now, the place of sweet solace, and the memories…Spence and I sleeping softly, Becca, Jade and I tossing pillows at each other and getting ready for the night, the hours I’d spent hunched over my desk, pillow clutched to my chest as I seared numbers, words, theories into the back of my brain.

  Don’t remember.

  Spence always said there were dangers to bringing your previous self back to life. In this case, risks to my heart. A knife through my sanity.

  The edges of my past room went black, rainbow colors bleeding until they bleached to grey, then burned to nothing. My ears rang with the pressure of silence.

  Four years worth of yesterdays lifted from my mind, and I found myself in the dark, unsafe, scared, and alone. But I would remember him.

  I remembered us.

  Hey there!

  Thank you so much for reading From This Day Forward. Spence and Emme turned into real people for me once I finished this prequel of theirs! I hope you enjoyed the characters as much as I enjoyed creating them, and I'd love it if you could leave a review.

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  And whatever book you end up in next, happy reading!

  xoxo, ket

  Ketley Allison began her career by writing books as birthday presents for her friends (with her friend as the main character and opposite a super sexy lead, of course) before ending it in order to walk down a path she thought she was supposed to follow.

  The writing bug never left her—and, in fact, would often bleed into the official papers she was supposed to write—so now Ketley’s putting down her suit and finally following her dream. While her friends are no longer the stars of her books, she still throws in bits and pieces of them into each and every one of her characters.

  As a result, her books tend to focus a lot on friendships as well as love, because let’s be honest, friends are what really get you through—especially when your epic love turns into epic heartbreak.

  You can connect with Ketley on Facebook, Twitter or her website. Reviews are always welcome. Happy reading!