And Then You

by Amanda Richardson

  But tonight feels different. Tonight feels electric.

  I turn off all of the lights and lock up, putting my keys in one of the spacious pockets in my skirt. I walk through the backyard, keeping my eye out for Nick. I don’t even know what his costume is, so I just keep my eyes out for a tall, brunette man. I don’t see him, or I can’t see him—everyone is wearing a mask. As I approach the back door, a man stops me and hands me a mask. It’s ornate—black and white, and it has a band. I pull it on, adjusting my hat, and head inside.

  The house is swarming with people. It doesn’t look like the house I see everyday—the couches and tables have been pushed to the perimeters of each room to make way for all the people, and pumpkins and luminarias dot the floor. It’s actually kind of spooky, because the lights are off, and only candles light the way. There’s no way I’m going to find Nick here. I should’ve brought my phone, called him…

  Suddenly, I see him. He’s right in front of me, in the living room. He’s dressed in a suit and I have to stifle a laugh, because I think he’s attempting to be Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. He knows it’s my favorite book. We’ve talked about it before. He’s talking to another man, and I don’t think he recognizes me. I barely recognize him. He’s wearing a mask, too, and he’s wearing a top hat. He at least gets an “A” for effort. I can’t believe he’s here as Mr. Darcy…

  Suddenly, I’m overcome with courage. I’m not even drunk, but watching him laughing, talking with his friends, dressed like that… I’m not sure I can hold back any longer. Violet’s words roll around in my head. Take advantage.

  The man Nick is talking to walks away, and I duck away. I don’t want him to know it’s me. I walk stealthily to the edge of the room, and there are so many people, it’s not hard to disappear. He makes his way towards the stairs, and I decide it’s now or never. Go upstairs, I urge. I don’t want anyone to see us. That might be weird. This whole thing is weird. But I’m a woman on a mission now.

  He walks upstairs. My stomach constricts. Now or never.

  I walk upstairs and pull my mask lower. I see him go into his bedroom.

  How poetic. Where we met.

  He shuts the door slightly. It’s dark in there, and I push the door open, my eyes searching for him. He’s standing at his window, looking out. He’s drinking a beer.

  Mr. Darcy drinking a beer, I muse.

  Right now, I’m Mary Poppins, and he’s Mr. Darcy. That’s all. We’re no longer Nick and Evianna. We’re anonymous.

  He doesn’t hear me come in, and I slowly wrap my arms around his waist. He tenses, but he must know it’s me because he doesn’t move. He turns around, and I let go as he faces me. Damn.

  Does he know it’s me?

  I don’t say anything. I just stand there. The bolt of courage courses through me, and I can feel my lips urging to be on his. Now or never.

  I lean forward and grab his neck, pulling his face down for a kiss. It’s quick, and I’m already doing it before I realize I’m doing it. I feel him tense further, and I think for a second that he’s going to pull away.

  But he doesn’t. He only pulls me into him further, somewhat forcefully, and his tongue explores my mouth.

  It’s delicious.

  It’s exhilarating.

  The whole room spins around us, and I feel Nick’s hands in my hair.

  My hat falls off. His does too.

  And I’m catapulted into another world: the world of kissing Nick. Because it’s just as wonderful as I’d imagined. In fact, it’s better. I feel my body responding to his unconsciously, and he kisses me with such fervor… it’s like I didn’t know what being happy was until this moment. This is the kind of kiss that makes me realize I’ll never be happier than this moment. Kissing Nick Wilder makes me feel so alive, I kind of want to do it forever. He lifts me up slightly by my waist, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls me impossibly close, and I want to melt into him—that’s how close I want to be.

  Oh my god, I’m kissing Nick Wilder.

  Just as my hands move to his shirt, he pulls apart. We’re both breathing heavily, and the room is thick with longing. The bed is a few feet away, for god’s sake. Not that I’m thinking of doing that, but it breeds a certain atmosphere around us. Plus, he’s Mr. Darcy.

  Yes, Mr. Darcy. And I’m Mary Poppins.

  That’s all.

  I slowly back out of the bedroom, grabbing my hat on the way out, and he watches me as I leave. I don’t know if he knows it’s me, but it’s easier to keep up the anonymous bit if I don’t say anything. It gives us a line of separation—party and real life. Without the mask, I would not have kissed him. Leaving now makes it so that I can possibly face him tomorrow without humiliation. I hope, anyways.

  He doesn’t come after me as I walk downstairs. I didn’t expect him to. Tonight was just about that kiss—that one amazing kiss that I’m still reeling from. The one thing I wanted to do anonymously.

  I walk back to my guesthouse with a huge grin on my face.

  I was pretty sure falling in love with your boss was grounds for termination.

  Kissing your boss was definitely grounds for termination.

  Thirty.

  Nick

  I think of going after her. But if I do, I’ll have to admit my feelings, and I still need to sort everything out. That was one hell of a kiss. Passionate. Delicate. Intimate. Sensual. I can still taste her on my lips, and I smile when I think of her having the guts to do something so ballsy.

  She thought she was hiding behind the mask, but I knew it was her the moment I heard somebody walk in. I could smell her—the light, flowery scent that always surrounds her, like a fresh spring day. I wanted to turn around. I thought maybe she’d just come to say hello.

  But then I felt her hands around me, and then she kissed me…

  I sit down on the bed and wipe the lipstick off of my lips.

  It’s weird seeing all of my “friends” again—the same ones who seemed to disappear after Isabel’s death, only to reappear when I promised free food and booze.

  And if I have to witness another sympathetic head tilt, I might kill someone. It makes me want to shout, “Where were you? If you’re so concerned, where were you after her death?”

  I know none of them would have a good answer. She was their friend. I wasn’t. Isabel knew them; I didn’t know them very well. I can see how it might be weird to be at my house without her. I mean… sometimes it was still weird for me to be in the house without her.

  I sit up before I get too depressed. A lot of them are busy doctors, I know that, and I shouldn’t hold their absence against them. They’re here now, aren’t they?

  Except… Evianna was the definite highlight of my night.

  Definitely.

  I adjust my shirt and run my hands over my lips, thinking of Evianna and how good it felt to be kissing her.

  I never really thought about loving someone after Isabel. To be honest, my love life was the least of my worries, and I was preoccupied with work, and Bria, and trying to get through the day without breaking down.

  And then Evi came around.

  I can still taste her, smell her, feel her…

  Thirty-one.

  Evianna

  I try to avoid Nick as much as possible that next week. It’s inevitable in some cases, like when I stroll in on Monday morning (after having spent the weekend at my parents’ house due to the ever-mounting next-day embarrassment). He doesn’t say anything, of course. He’s a gentleman. And he really doesn’t act all that different. He even offers to make me breakfast, and at one point he smiles at me.

  But none of those things are indications of how he’s feeling about our kiss. I’ve gone and convinced myself that maybe he didn’t know it was me. Maybe he just thought it was some random stranger. Maybe he was drunk, and he doesn’t even remember.

  The rest of the week passes similarly. We’re all gearing up for our trip to Mexico. We leave this coming Friday night, and I spend the week
doing endless sit-ups and push-ups and squats. I want to look my best if I’ll be lounging around in a bikini all day for ten days.

  Nick gives me that Friday off. We’re all home, packing and generally getting ready for our trip. Bria is bouncing off the walls, of course. I’ve researched our resort, and it’s an eco lodge—a luxury eco lodge—in the middle of nowhere, in Tulum. Nick booked a suite, and I have my own private bedroom and bathroom, though we’re all sharing a kitchen and living quarters. Which is probably good, because I’ve heard very unsavory things about the rules on flushing toilet paper in Tulum.

  I try not to think about Nick shirtless, though I know it’s going to be inevitable.

  I pack light, knowing full well that I’ll be living in light dresses and shorts most days. I fit everything into a carry-on suitcase, and around seven, I walk to the main house. Our flight isn’t until eleven, but I know he wants to leave on the earlier side because it’s international.

  I’m wearing a pair of leggings, sandals, and a T-shirt. I have an athletic zip-up sweatshirt on for the plane, though I doubt I’ll need it once we land. The weather is going to be warm for our whole trip. I double-check for my passport, making sure it’s still in my purse. It is.

  As I slide the door open and haul my suitcase in, I notice the kitchen is empty. I leave my suitcase and purse by the dining room table and go to make myself a cup of coffee. I’m sure I won’t be sleeping on the plane, and this way I can read. The flight is a little under six hours, and we’re getting to Cancun airport early tomorrow morning. I plan on napping on the beach, drink in hand.

  Since no one is around, I start preparing a bag of plane snacks for Bria. I made sure she took an extra-long nap today to make up for the lack of sleep tonight. While I’m at it, I whip up some grilled cheese sandwiches for Nick, Bria, and I to eat now, so we don’t have to buy shitty airport food.

  “Smells good,” Nick says, carrying a small suitcase behind him. Bria follows, and she sniffs the air approvingly.

  “Grilled cheese?” she asks, and I hand her a sandwich.

  “Thought we could eat dinner here instead of the airport. I packed some snacks for us, too,” I say, producing a small ziplock bag full of granola bars and dried fruit.

  Nick looks at me gratefully, and I try not to notice how good he looks right now. He’s wearing cuffed jean shorts, sandals, and a tight T-shirt.

  We all eat quickly around the table, and I pack all of us some water too. Bria’s eyes are heavy with sleep, and we decide to head to the airport around eight. I hope she’ll sleep on the plane, but then again, I have no doubt. She can sleep pretty much anywhere.

  We head out in Nick’s Porsche, and Bria is asleep in minutes. Nick is quiet the whole drive, and once we’re at the airport, he busts out a stroller for Bria so that she can keep sleeping. I push her while Nick gets all the bags, and as we head into the International terminal, I can’t help but think that we look like a family. I try to push the thought out of my head.

  As we check in with our passports and go through security, we have an hour before boarding, so I walk up and down the terminal nervously while Nick lets Bria sleep in his lap. I buy a couple books, and I make my way to the bathroom, assessing my appearance. I’m not wearing a stitch of makeup, and I’ve thrown my hair up into a messy bun.

  Relax, Evi. It’s just a vacation.

  I vow to drink as much as possible to forget how good it felt to kiss Nick.

  How right it felt.

  We get onto the plane relatively hassle-free, and the flight attendants check Bria’s stroller at the gate. I thank them, and they hand me the ticket.

  “Have a good flight, Mrs. Wilder.”

  My heart stops. Nick is too far ahead to have heard. I shake my head vehemently.

  “We’re not married,” I hiss.

  “My apologies,” she says warmly. “Cute kid,” she adds, gesturing to Bria. She does look quite precious right now, fast asleep in Nick’s arms.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  I follow Nick and Bria to our row. Nick takes the window, Bria sits in the middle, and I have the aisle. Once we’re all buckled in, Bria leans over to me and rests her head on my shoulder. I lift the armrest and wrap my arms around her. I try not to look at Nick—instead I bust out my book and begin to read. I’ve never been on a flight this long, and the thought of being stuck next to Nick for six hours is slightly terrifying.

  “She can really sleep through anything,” I whisper as the plane takes off.

  “She slept through most of the crash,” he says solemnly. I almost ask him what he means, and then understanding hits me.

  The crash that killed Isabel and Matthias.

  “Wow.” It’s all I can think to say.

  “Didn’t really wake up until we were at the hospital. She was the only one who wasn’t injured.”

  “What… what happened?” I ask, and Nick turns towards me.

  “I was driving. It was late. We were coming back from dinner. Isabel was still breastfeeding Matthias, and he was crying, so she went into the backseat and held him in her arms, feeding him. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and obviously, neither was Matthias. It was stupid, I know. I fucking kick myself every single damn day about that.”

  I look over at him, and he has his head in his hands. He continues.

  “It was raining. I hydroplaned. I wasn’t speeding, but I definitely wasn’t being the most careful driver. It would’ve been fine, except that they weren’t wearing their seatbelts. Isabel insisted on feeding him, and I let her. I fucking let her. We hit a tree, and they flew forward, through the windshield. Both of them were pronounced dead later that night, in the hospital. They sustained too many injuries. They both had internal bleeding, and neither of them could be saved.”

  “Oh, Nick…” I whisper. I reach out for his hand, and he takes it. “I’m so sorry.”

  He just looks at me sadly, and I can see the regret etched into his face.

  “I shouldn’t have let her go back there. I should’ve insisted—”

  “It’s not your fault, Nick. It was raining, and there were extenuating circumstances that came together to form this awful thing—the rain, the tree, the internal bleeding. None of those things were your fault.”

  “It’s hard not to blame myself, though.”

  “I know.”

  I hold his hand tightly, and Bria stirs underneath us.

  “She was so distraught when she woke up,” Nick says, and his voice breaks. I look over at him. The cabin lights are off, but his face is illuminated from the plane wing lights. “Bria. She didn’t stop crying for days, weeks. She was only three. She couldn’t process that her mother and brother were gone, just like that. She didn’t understand. She still has nightmares about it.”

  I stay quiet. I’m grateful that he’s telling me. It’s hard to hear, but I’m glad he’s letting me in.

  “I’m not going to say that I’m sorry, because I can’t really empathize with something I haven’t ever experienced—something I can’t even imagine happening to the people I love the most. So I’m not going to say that it will get better, because you already know it will. I’m just going to say that it’s okay to be sad, because your grief matters. You taught me that. I don’t want you to berate yourself forever for something that was completely and totally out of your control.”

  “Yeah,” he replies. “I’m learning. Slowly, I’m learning.”

  “Good,” I say quietly. He squeezes my hand and looks away. He doesn’t let go; instead he adjusts himself so that his hand is lying in my lap comfortably. I take a deep breath, and I’m suddenly overcome with courage. “I liked your costume, by the way,” I whisper, and I see him smile slyly as he looks out the window.

  “I thought you would.”

  We remain quiet for the rest of the flight, though his answer shocks me because now there’s no doubt in my mind that he knows I was at the Halloween party. And that means he must know I kissed him.

  And that means…
he kissed me back. Knowingly.

  I know that fact shouldn’t make me feel this happy, but it does. It makes me feel exuberant. Joyful. Optimistic.

  I realize now what my mother meant, how it might be easy to fall for Nick, given our predicament. Because falling for someone isn’t all about the fireworks, the explosion, and the chemistry. Sometimes it happens softly, slowly, and it’s the last thing you expected.

  Neither of us say anything else the rest of the flight, but we continue to hold hands the whole time. I manage to fall asleep eventually.

  I wake up to the landing announcement, and Bria bounces in her seat as we land in Cancun.

  The sky is pink—the sunrise has begun, and I can’t help but think that this will be the trip of a lifetime.

  “Welcome to Mexico,” the pilot says. “We hope you enjoy your stay.”

  I look at Nick, and he just smiles sleepily.

  Oh, I think I’ll enjoy it just fine.

  Thirty-two.

  Evianna

  We’re all pretty tired after landing, so we don’t say much as the shuttle takes us from Cancun to our resort in Tulum, about a two-hour drive away. I throw on my sunglasses and cuddle up with Bria in the backseat as Nick dozes up front. I want to soak it all up, but right now I’m exhausted and extremely hot. The air-conditioning is on, but the whole Riviera Maya in Mexico is experiencing what the locals like to call “hurricane weather”—meaning it’s hot and awfully muggy. Coming from Seattle, where the weather is damp and cool, the warm weather here automatically lulls us into a light sleep as we drive along the coastline.

  Once we arrive, though, I have to pinch myself, because it feels like paradise. It is paradise. The shuttle drops us at a small building on the water, and there’s nothing else around. Nick mentioned that he booked this resort because it’s away from all the other resorts, and he wasn’t kidding. The small, wooden building is the only thing visible in all directions. As the driver helps us with our luggage, I carry Bria into the lobby while Nick checks us in.