And Then You

by Amanda Richardson

“No,” I lie.

  I do have plans. I’m supposed to meet Violet and Marcus for a movie, but I hate being the third wheel on one of their dates. I’m sure they won’t mind some alone time.

  “Good. I meant to ask you this week, but I didn’t really see you,” he says, and his voice gets a little hard. Somehow, I suspect he knows about my Nick embargo. I was stupid to think he wouldn’t catch on. I practically sprint to my guesthouse every night. “We’re going out to dinner. It’s Bria’s favorite restaurant… kind of fancy. Want to join us?”

  “Thank you,” I say, taken aback. “That’s really nice.” He observes me wordlessly, waiting for an answer. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. I try not to notice how he’s grown his stubble out a little bit—it’s sexy. It adds to his “perfect-yet-disheveled” look. “Are you sure it’s not just a family thing?” I ask, uncertain.

  “Evianna… you are family now. Whether you like it or not,” he chuckles.

  I stare at him—this coming from the guy who less than a month ago freaked out when someone asked him if we wanted the family pass.

  “Of course I’ll go,” I whisper quietly. I’m feeling emotional all of a sudden.

  I turn around and finish pouring the batter into the papered cups. I don’t know what to say to him… thank you for considering me a part of the family? I have no idea. I’m speechless. His kindness is… it’s a lot, all at once.

  The song changes, and a different band comes on… Coldplay, I think. It’s a slow song, and it’s melodramatic and heavy. I finish with the cupcake batter and plop the tray into the oven. This oven is really nice—I have no doubt that the cupcakes will be evenly cooked and perfectly browned—unlike the oven at my parents’ house.

  The mood of the song seems to have affected Nick, because he wanders over to me slowly and stands next to me. We’re standing so close. I can smell his deodorant. It’s nice—smells like cinnamon. He crosses his arms and his body leans closer to me—god, I can’t handle this. I bite my lip and look down, concentrating hard on the cupcakes and not the fact that he’s an inch away from me.

  “So, Evianna, how are you?”

  “What do you mean?” I look up at him, and his face is serious.

  “With… everything. Life, you know…”

  “Oh. The ex.”

  “That too, but just life in general, too.”

  Other than the fact that I’ve been ignoring you?

  “Good,” I lie.

  “You’ve kept to yourself. I miss our breakfasts,” he adds, and when he looks down at me, I look up at him.

  “You miss having breakfast with me?” I ask weakly.

  “Yeah,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s nice to converse with an adult every now and again. I’m stuck with Bria and my patients all day.”

  “I just thought it’d be less of a hassle if I made my own breakfasts.” Another lie.

  “That’s fine. I can respect that. The offer stands, though. I like cooking for two.”

  My head spins at his words. I know he doesn’t mean it like it sounds, but I can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. He probably used to cook for Isabel.

  “Thanks,” I add.

  “Anytime.” He gaze flicks over my body, and he looks at me sternly now. “But really, how are you?”

  I pick at my nails and look down.

  “My ex-boyfriend is engaged to my ex-friend. I’ve been better,” I say, shrugging. “They’re getting married in December. Violet thinks Mia is pregnant. I guess it makes sense.”

  I bite my lip to keep from crying. Imagining Dan having a family with Mia is almost unbearable to think about. We were supposed to have that. We even had our future children’s names picked out.

  A single tear slips from my eyes and onto my cheeks. I feel Nick stiffen next to me, and a second later he pulls me into him. I cry into his shirt as he hugs me.

  Oh my god.

  Stop crying, I beg my tear ducts. This is so embarrassing. I’ve cried in front of Violet a few times, and my mom a few times, but never a guy. Not even Dan. I didn’t even think I was so emotional, but I guess suppressing your emotions means they come cascading out any time someone asks how you are. I want to stop, and I feel my whole body tense. But I can’t. It feels so good to be comforted by Nick.

  I lose control, and the next thing I know, I’m clutching his shirt with both hands and sobbing into it. He just strokes my back, cocooning his arms around me. Even though this is the most physical contact we’ve ever had, it feels right. Good, even. It feels really fucking good.

  He brings his head down and rests it on mine, and my mind screams at me. This is Nick! He’s hugging you! He’s resting his head on top of yours! His arms are around you! I inhale deeply between sobs, and his scent fills my nostrils, burns them. I decide that I really like cinnamon. He gently pulls away as my crying ceases. I jump back and wipe my face with my hands.

  “I’m sorry about your shirt,” I mumble, my voice thick from crying. His shirt is spotted from my tears.

  “Don’t worry about it, Evianna.” He doesn’t even look down. He just fixes his gaze on mine.

  “So much for being 100 percent emotionally stable, huh?” I joke, referring to my first email to him. I look down and chew on my lips to keep from crying more.

  He just blows out a loud breath of air and keeps staring at me, concern lining his face.

  “Come here,” he says gently. He holds his arms open.

  I don’t hesitate. I fall into him, and he rocks me back and forth, bringing his arms all the way around me. He’s so gentle… yet sturdy. He’s solid, warm… we sway to the music.

  His hands are on my lower back, and they trail just an inch lower. Suddenly, I’m blushing. For some reason, that small movement sends awareness running through me. Nick is hugging me, and that movement is a silent gesture showing me that this isn’t just a normal employer-employee hug. His hands are burning me on the spot where they rest on my lower back. I’m hyper-aware of them there.

  I can feel the solidness of his torso, and I bring my hands around him, too, even though previously they were bound tightly into my chest. I feel him stiffen just a bit, and I turn my head sideways so that my cheek is against his chest. His breathing becomes ragged. Mine does, too. I pull him closer—a minor movement, but it’s enough. He knows. We both know. His hands drop a half inch further, and I have to keep from gasping. My whole body explodes from the shock waves.

  What is happening?

  The downside of being so close to his heart right now is that I hear it, feel it beating rapidly. It should be his secret—how he feels around me—and it suddenly doesn’t seem fair that I know his secret.

  Because now I do. I know. I know that I affect him the very same way he affects me. I know that when I brought my hands around him, his heart started hammering against his chest. I felt it—trying to escape—and how it seemed to skip a beat when I pulled him just a tiny bit closer. I realize everything has changed. This one minute, this moment, has changed everything. Because it isn’t normal to hug your boss like this. And it’s not normal to breathe in their scent over and over. It’s definitely not normal to be so affected by the slightest dip in hand positioning.

  I don’t think either one of us wants to pull away. It’s been so nice, here in Nick’s arms, and once we pull apart, it’s back to real life. It’s back to Evianna the employee and Nick the employer. A line has been traversed, but I don’t expect either of us to actually do anything about it. Not yet, anyways. It’s just one moment in a sea of moments—one small change in a sea of changes.

  I pull away first. Luckily, I have the excuse of wiping my eyes and looking down. I don’t dare to meet his eyes. I’m afraid of what they’ll say.

  “The cupcakes,” I say softly. I decide to look up, and his eyes, his beautiful, honey-brown eyes are so emotionally charged. He felt it. If his heartbeat wasn’t enough proof, this definitely is. He licks his lips and studies my face. His eyes bore into mine, and f
or one delightful moment, I think he might kiss me. The way he’s looking at my lips…

  “What?” he says, not taking his eyes off of me. Suddenly, he wakes up. He straightens up and clears his throat. The moment is officially over. “Oh.” He shakes his head, like he’s shaking something off of him. “Right.”

  We both move to open the oven, and we end up bumping into each other.

  “Sorry.” I laugh.

  “No, I’m sorry,” he says, gesturing for me to go first.

  I shoot him a bashful look and lean down, pulling the tray out with a dishtowel.

  Perfect.

  I set the tray on the stove and go to turn the oven off. I hang the towel back on the rack and poke one of the cupcakes with a toothpick. It comes out clean, just like I suspected. When I turn around to throw the toothpick away, I catch Nick looking at me.

  It stops me in my tracks.

  He looks perplexed, like he’s unsure of how he’s supposed to look, act, feel… he just stares at me with a furrowed brow. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, and his hand is caressing his mouth. He’s watching me like he’s trying to figure me out. His lips grow tight, masking a smile.

  He looks bewildered.

  Oh, Nick. You bewilder me, too.

  This whole situation bewilders me.

  “Frosting?” I ask innocently.

  His eyes dart to a small mixing bowl on the island. I go over and I realize, amused, that the frosting is homemade, too.

  “I’d wait ten minutes, or else the frosting will melt,” he says. It’s a simple sentence, yet the way he says it makes me think there’s a deeper meaning in his words.

  “Okay,” I acquiesce. I set the bowl down. “I didn’t know you were such a cupcake connoisseur.”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Evianna.”

  My eyes dart up to his, and he’s watching me raptly.

  I cringe and look down at the floor, leaning back against the stove. My mind plays dirty tricks on me. He didn’t mean anything by that comment.

  Or did he?

  I decide that since we’ve crossed a physical boundary already, might as well cross an emotional one.

  “Is it hard to celebrate Bria’s birthday without Isabel?” I ask timidly. I expect Nick to shut me down, but instead he regards my question earnestly, like I’m asking what his favorite meal is.

  “Last year was harder. Her birthday was two weeks after the accident.” He shifts his weight, and I expect him to shut down or tell me never to ask another question about Isabel ever again. But he doesn’t. He seems relieved to be talking about it. “For a long time, I was in denial about everything. This huge, awful thing happened to Bria and me—one moment that will forever mark my life, where nothing will ever be the same. And for so long, I catalogued my life into two areas: before and after. It’s only recently that I’m learning it’s okay to live fully in the after.”

  I’m stunned by his words. He seems so much more grounded now than he did a few weeks ago. I know that grief comes in waves—tidal waves—but it seems like he’s taking major steps forward. I smile.

  “That’s a good way of thinking about things,” I say. “Before and after.”

  “I don’t think Isabel would want me to be miserable forever,” he says quietly, looking at me.

  “You won’t be miserable forever. I’ll see to it.” The minute I say it, I realize how it might sound, and I clap my hand over my mouth. Nick just throws his head back and laughs. God, his laugh is amazing.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes,” I retort. “Even if I have to make you play Would You Rather every single damn day.”

  He beams at me, assessing me. His eyes flit over me amusingly.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, and the tone of his voice is flirtatious. “We could play now, if you wanted.”

  “Hmm… a game like that played after midnight never leads to anything good,” I mumble, and memories of the times Violet, Marcus, Dan and I played it in college pass through my mind.

  “Evianna Halle… would you rather go back in the past and fix something that went wrong in your life or go into the future and manipulate it?”

  I stare at him. He’s really doing this.

  “But what would I be manipulating in the future?”

  “You’d go forward and see the future, and you could change things in the present, thus manipulating the future.”

  “I see. I guess I’d go back into the past and fix something. I don’t want to see the future. I like not knowing.” He nods. I already know how he’d answer that question, but I ask anyways. “What about you?”

  He gazes at me, and his eyes grow thoughtful.

  “Hmm… I’d go to the future. Only because I’d like to find Bria’s first boyfriend and scare the crap out of him.”

  I laugh.

  “You’d really go to the future?”

  “Yes,” he says calmly. “What’s done is done. No point dwelling on things you can’t change.”

  “But if you could?” I push, though I know I’m being nosy.

  “I wouldn’t want to. Not at this point in my life. There’s a certain finality in the death of a loved one. You almost realize, though it’s hard to admit at first, that there’s a reason their time in your life is so brief. What Isabel and I had… it was pure magic. It was the most beautiful love. In a way, it was as if it were supposed to end this way. I wish it hadn’t, but it did, and now… I’m just trying to live again, to feel again. Because… fuck, life is short. Too short.”

  I am rendered speechless again. Mostly because of his insightful words, but also because I’ve never heard Nick Wilder swear before. It’s refreshing. It reminds me of just how young he really is.

  I cock my head.

  “How old are you, Nick Wilder?”

  He chuckles. “Thirty-two.”

  “Thought so,” I counter. “You’re so wise. I knew you had to be an old man,” I tease. He smiles. “But seriously. It’s nice seeing you act your age.”

  “Act my age?” He’s amused.

  “You know… swearing. Staying up late and, well, baking. You’ve led such a heavy, serious, burdened life. You need to let loose a little. I’d be happy to watch Bria if you ever wanted to go to a bar with your friends or something.”

  “Thanks,” he says slowly. “But bars aren’t exactly my scene.”

  “Well, you know what I mean.”

  “I know,” he says quietly. “Thank you.” He looks like he’s about to say something, and then he stops himself, smiling. “Would you rather always lose or never play?”

  I gape at him. He’s still playing!

  “In what context?”

  He shrugs, and then he walks over to me. I feel my whole body start to burn hotter the closer he walks.

  “Would you rather always lose or never play… in life, in love. Would you take the chance?”

  My breathing hitches in my throat as he stands right in front of me. He looks just as unsure as I feel, and I realize we’re both fighting some internal battle here. For me, it’s the dilemma of him being my employer. It used to be that he was a widower, but I’ve come to find that that doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. The only problem is, I feel like that is his only dilemma.

  “I will always take the chance,” I whisper. “Even if I always lose… I will always take the chance.”

  He runs his hand smoothly through his hair as he watches me curiously. My heart stops as his eyes flick to my lips. I want him to kiss them so badly.

  Why is this so intense?

  “Cupcakes are cooled,” he says, and as he says it, I can tell which battle won.

  Isabel.

  And rightly so. She might always win, and I have to be prepared to be okay with that.

  Eighteen.

  Nick

  I watch as Evianna frosts the cupcakes, using her hands in a way that intrigues me. Clearly, she’s frosted a lot of cupcakes. I can tell by the familiar way she spread
s the chocolate evenly across the warm cakes with a knife.

  I know I shouldn’t be standing here, watching her, but I can’t help myself.

  I never thought I’d feel this way about someone ever again. Especially so soon after Isabel. It’s been a little over a year. I don’t technically know how much time needs to pass before you start to feel okay about feeling again. I guess it varies from person to person. There aren’t exactly rules for these kinds of things.

  “All done,” she says, brushing her hands together and pointing to the perfectly frosted cupcakes. Of course they look professional.

  “Thanks for your help,” I say, watching her as she looks down at her feet.

  “No problem,” she says quietly.

  Suddenly, I feel bad. I feel like I’m taking advantage of someone who just went through an awful breakup. I’m being selfish, and I’m not thinking of Bria. Nothing can happen with Evianna. Bria loves her too much—I won’t jeopardize that. Ever.

  I want to tell her. I don’t want to lead her on. But I can’t help the way she makes me feel. And that’s exactly the problem—she makes me feel something. That familiar beating of my heart, the rush of awareness to certain parts on my body… I haven’t felt that for a very, very long time.

  I’m torn.

  I’m torn between being her employer… and being a man.

  “Good night, Nick,” she says, leaving through the sliding glass door before I can say anything else.

  “Good night, Evianna,” I whisper to the empty kitchen.

  Nineteen.

  Evianna

  I spend the majority of my Saturday reading and drinking tea. It’s started to rain, so I don’t feel like I’m being anti-social or a homebody. It’s the perfect environment for reading in bed. I’ve already gone through the twelve books I’d brought with me originally, and I’ve already gone to the bookstore twice to restock. New books are always something I will splurge on.

  It’s nice being by myself on my days off. Besides, after last night, I’m not sure I can face Nick. Last night was… intense. The amount of unspoken feelings flying around that room… I didn’t fall asleep for hours. I tossed and turned most of the night, over-analyzing. I hadn’t even told Violet what happened. I couldn’t bring myself to rehash everything just yet. The dust needed to further settle before she told me her opinion, though I knew what she’d say, because I knew it myself.