by Gina Azzi
Aaron’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t say anything.
I think we’re both a little relieved when our entrees arrive.
9
Aaron
I hate Corey Hughes.
It’s the only thing I can think as I cut into my fish fillet and take a large bite, barely appreciating the delicious flavors exploding in my mouth because I’m too focused on Everly’s forlorn expression when she says her ex’s name.
Bloody Corey Hughes.
Shoveling a forkful of rice into my mouth, I calm the irrational surge of jealousy I feel toward Everly. I’m frustrated, angry even, that she’s so hung-up on a guy who, by the looks of it, waxes his eyebrows.
“This is delicious,” Everly comments on her entree, taking delicate forkfuls and chewing slowly, enjoying her meal like a normal person.
For some reason, this riles me up even more. How can she enjoy her food when I’m reacting like a caveman to the fact that she’s still affected by her breakup after dating Corey for years? Of course it’s still bothering her; it happened ten weeks ago.
Kate and I divorced half a year ago, and I still want to throw something when I think about her.
“Aye,” I answer, taking a large gulp of my wine.
“How’s work? Tell me about Anderson.”
Checking my anger at her innocuous question, I start to calm down, launching into an explanation about my work responsibilities. “But the part I love best is the mentoring, even though I recently cut back to have more time with Liv.”
“Really?” Everly’s eyebrows rise. “I mean, I can totally see that about you. You’ve always been more of a leader than a follower.”
“I actually mentored Daisy earlier this year when she started at Anderson.”
“Oh, my God. Is that how she and your brother met?” Everly leans closer, her smile genuine.
“No, it’s complicated. Daisy is my cousin Sierra’s best friend. My whole family has known her for years. But last Christmas, Finn was stranded Stateside after a snow storm, so he joined Sierra and her now-husband Denver for Christmas, and I don’t know, something happened between him and Daisy. She had already accepted her position at Anderson. Needless to say, it was a bit stressful for Finn when she started working at the family company.”
“I bet.” Everly laughs. “But they managed to work it out.”
“Aye.” I chew another bite thoughtfully. “It took them long enough to figure their shit out.”
“Sometimes, it’s not so obvious to the people actually falling that they’re falling.”
I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling at her. I knew I was falling for Everly at twenty-two. And I know if I’m not careful, I could fall for her now, too.
But things are different this time. We’re not naive, college kids, with bright ideas about even brighter futures. This time around, I’m a father with responsibilities and obligations I have to uphold. And Everly is a broken-hearted superstar, with a thriving career on the other side of the Atlantic.
Still, as we gradually proceed to order rice pudding and creme caramel for dessert, I can’t help but wonder what our future would look like if things were different.
If I could claim Everly’s heart again.
“Come home with me,” I whisper into her hair, as we walk back to my car. Rubbing my thumb over the feather tattooed between her thumb and wrist, I hold my breath in my lungs waiting for her response.
“What about Olivia?”
“She’s at a friend’s slumber party.”
“Are you sure?” She tilts her head toward me, her eyes studying me in the moonlight.
“That I want you? I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”
Everly smiles at my words. I’m struck by how unbelievably beautiful she is, her green eyes dazzling, brimming with a soulful sincerity that only she possesses. “Okay.”
“Okay.” I squeeze her hand one last time before she slips into my car.
The drive back to my flat is quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. But it’s a comfortable silence, one that speaks to a shared history, a past that was intense in its depth. I once loved Everly Pierce with every fiber in my being and sitting in my car with her next to me reminds me just how easily I could again.
Women like Everly, they imprint on your heart, ruining you for every woman that comes after them. Even wives, which I’ll admit is awful. I’m not sure I even realized it until this moment, but I don’t think I ever felt the same degree of feelings for Kate that I felt for Everly. The passion was overwhelming, the yearning constant. Even now, after fifteen years, I want her more than my next breath, and by the time I park by my flat, my hands are clenched into fists, and I’m needy for her touch.
When her gaze swings to mine, whatever she reads in my eyes causes her own to flare with desire, heat with a lust I’m desperate for her to act on.
She stumbles on the way to my flat, and I steady her as her laughter rings out around us. She’s flushed from the wine, her eyes bright, her body relaxed. The silver and gold chains around her neck shimmer under the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and the messy waves of her hair brush over her shoulders.
She’s so damn effortless, so alluring. I can’t think clearly. All I know is I need to have her, to pin her against the nearest surface and step into her until her warmth melts the ice in my heart, until her sweetness quells the fury in my blood.
Everly could shatter and save me. And tonight, I want both.
Swinging the door to my flat open, I wait for her to enter before kicking the door closed and leaning back against it, my arms folding across my chest.
Everly spins to face me, a grin spreading across her lips until she bites the corner of her mouth, teasing and tempting. She continues to back away until she’s across the room, leaning against my dining table. Her hands hook below the table top as she leans her weight against it, her eyes trained on mine.
I groan. “Damn it, Everly.”
She reaches up, slipping the straps of her simple sundress over her shoulders. The slinky material slides down her frame slowly. With each inch of skin revealed, my breathing intensifies, my fingers itchy to reach out and touch her. To feel the smooth silk of her skin, to breathe in the sweet coconut of her hair, to feel the heat of her mouth against mine.
Her dress pools at her feet, and she steps out of it, kicking it behind her underneath the table. Slipping out of her flats, she kicks them away too. Clad in a lacy pair of underwear, topless, she shoots me a playful grin.
“Fuck, Everly.” I take a step closer. “What are you doing to me?”
“Like what you see?” she taunts, hoisting herself onto the table.
“Do you always do this little striptease number?” I demand, desperate for the answer to be no.
“Never.”
“Why me?” I ask, stepping in between her thighs, my hands braced on either side of her hips.
“Because you’re the only man to ever really see me,” she whispers, her eyes solemn, all playfulness gone.
Dipping my head, I capture her lips with mine.
Her kiss rips through me, an electric current that zaps and zings everything in its wake. My blood is on fire as I lay her back on the dining room table. Her skin shimmers in the moonlight poring through the floor-to-ceiling windows from the living room. The nightscape of the city washes us in a pale glow as I cover Everly’s body with mine.
Her moans are sweet little mewls of satisfaction, her eyes fluttering closed. Pressing a kiss to each eyelid, I feel the curve of her smile against my chin.
“I missed you, Aaron. Being with you, it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to home.” Her voice is a whisper, a confession that feels safe in the darkness.
“Missed you more,” I manage, the blood thrumming in my temples, a roar of pent-up fervor, of years of wanting and yearning, spilling out of me like ink, marking her skin and hopefully branding her heart.
I work her over slowly, paying attention to the sounds
falling from her lips, the way her body clenches and shudders under my touch.
My fingers skim over a series of raised bumps near her hip and I frown, pausing to trace the scars with my thumb. I begin to pull away, questions forming in my mind. “Lee? What hap—”
“Please.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders, pulling me closer, erasing any space that exists between us. She places an open-mouthed kiss at the base of my throat, her tongue flicking out and I groan, all questions vanishing.
Rocking into her, the simmer between us flares into a blaze that consumes me until all I can focus on is her, this moment.
Us.
“Here.” I hand Everly a glass of wine. She’s reclined against the pillows near my headboard, dressed only in my button-down, the cuffs rolled back. The beach waves of her hair are tangled from my fingers, her lips swollen from my kiss. She’s positively bewitching, even more so because she doesn’t realize it.
She doesn’t comprehend just how much she captivates me, her intellect holding me prisoner, her body demanding that I surrender. Everything about Everly could force me to wave a white flag to all my own hang-ups: the distance, my status as a dad, my failure in my marriage, all of it.
Could it be possible? Could Everly and I have a future together?
It’s not like we’re getting married or anything rash; we could just date, explore our attraction, the intense pull between us.
Don’t we owe that to ourselves?
“What are you thinking about so seriously?” she asks, scrunching her eyebrows at me.
“You.”
A wicked smile curves her lips. “What about me?”
“Everything about you. You’re bewitching.”
She tosses her head back and laughs, the column of her neck on full display. “That’s rich coming from you. You may be the only person who could render me speechless. I can’t even form thoughts, never mind words, when your hands are on me.”
“That’s a very good thing, Lee. Because I don’t want you thinking about anything but my hands.”
She grins, taking a sip of her wine. “What else are you thinking?”
“Things about us.”
She raises her eyebrows, dipping her chin for me to continue.
“I know it’s all complicated, even more so now than it was back then. But I don’t want to give up on us again, Lee. Not without really trying. I have no idea what that looks like, but I want to give things a chance. This time around, I want to make it work.”
The sage in her eyes expands, stamping out the other shades of green, until two pools of springtime shimmer at me. She gives a slow nod. “I want that, too. More than anything. But Aaron, I know I’ve already said this, but I need you need to understand that I’m not giving up my career. I’m not going to—"
“I would never ask you to. Ever. Let’s just take it one day at a time. I need to make sure Olivia is comfortable with everything, too. I won’t jeopardize my daughter’s well-being, her mental health, her happiness, anything.” I stare at Everly to make sure she understands exactly what I’m saying. As much as I care about her, Olivia will always come first.
“I would expect nothing less of you.”
Taking the wine glass from her hand, I set it on the bedside table and brush my nose against hers. “Then it’s settled.”
Tilting her face up, she presses her lips to mine, sealing the deal.
And I take my first full breath in more than a year.
10
Everly
I’m dancing through my life like it’s a Broadway musical.
Just two weeks of dating Aaron has dulled months of agony with Corey.
A handful of ice cream parties with Olivia has stamped out the worry that used to plague me for eating a dessert.
Being pulled into Aaron and Olivia’s lives is a salve to the pain and hurt I’ve carried around for far too long.
For the first time in so, so long, I feel full, bursting with energy and confidence and a happiness that scares me in its intensity. I’ve forgotten what fulfillment, what peace, feels like, how it nourishes the soul and calms the mind.
In short, I feel fan-fucking-tastic.
Giving Dan the day off, I leave the posh, high-fashion shops surrounding my apartment and head to The West End, an eclectic enclave of independently owned shops mixed with pubs and restaurants. Colorful storefronts, cobble stoned streets, and Georgian Architecture greet me as I dive headfirst into the bustling shopping and revelry occurring in this part of town.
Heading down William Street, the cool breeze of September ruffles my hair and speaks to the changing season, but the sky is bright blue, blessing the day with good weather. Popping into a jewelry boutique showcasing pieces by local designers, I scan the beautiful necklaces and earrings with the sudden urge to purchase something for myself.
Something to mark today so that in the future, wherever I am and whatever I’m doing, I can catch a glimpse of my bauble and recall this moment, this feeling. I’ll remember what it felt like to feel whole again.
“May I help you?” a salesclerk asks.
I point to a simple necklace, a rose-gold plated seashell.
The salesclerk places it in my hand, and I fasten the necklace around my neck, stooping to see how it looks in a mirror. The shell nestles in the hollow of my throat, simple but striking, delicate yet durable.
“I’ll take it,” I decide. Passing over my credit card, I add, “I’ll wear it out.”
Stepping back onto William Street, I breathe in the sunshine, the charge in the air, the day.
Seashells symbolize rebirth, resurrection, and right now, I grasp both with open hands, an open mind, and most importantly, an open heart.
I spend the morning popping in and out of boutiques. I buy myself a fantastic journal with a crown embossed on the front and declare it as a space to write down what I’m most grateful for each day. It’s time I start counting my blessings. I also purchase new stationary. And then, just because I want to, I buy myself the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. Overflowing with greenery and bold colors, excitement hums through me as I picture the pop of color the floral arrangement will bring to my simple apartment.
Stepping back onto the street, I breathe in the architecture, soak in the delicious Scottish accents, and let the perfect atmosphere fill me with appreciation for this moment in my life.
Sure, things haven’t been easy, but my experiences brought me to right now. To this. And this, this is about as good as it gets. Breathing in the new, letting go of the old, things appear clearer, sharper. Both literally and figuratively. This morning, I stop to admire the incredible architecture of The West End, pausing to appreciate The Georgian House, deciding to step inside on a whim and peruse the artwork, the fashionable dressing garments of the late eighteenth century, and the furnishings of the period.
About halfway through my tour, my stomach grumbles, and I laugh at myself, pressing my hand to my abdomen. Wrapping up my visit, I treat myself to lunch and a glass of wine. Taking my first sip of a crisp Pinot Grigio in a bustling restaurant, my phone rings.
“Addison Grace,” I answer, grinning.
“Everly? Is that you?”
I laugh. “Yes, why?”
“You sound… happy. Like, I don’t even know who you are.”
“I am happy.”
“Uh-oh.” Her tone is teasing, and I know she is grinning, but still an edge of hesitancy laces her words.
“What uh-oh? You’re supposed to be happy that I’m happy.”
“I am. Truly, Everly, it’s incredible to hear some light in your voice after so much dreadful dark.”
“But?”
“But, I have a feeling your good vibes are because of a certain ex-boyfriend?”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “Yes, fine, part of it is because of Aaron, but part of it is also because of me. I’m, I don’t know, healing. Embracing the day. Seizing the moment.”
“Carpe diem, babe. But don’t forget that you’re leavin
g soon. You have a life and a career—one that is still managing to soar despite your recent neglect—in Nashville. You swore you’d never give a man power over your life again.”
“Having phenomenal sex on a dining room table and in the shower and pressed against floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city isn’t giving away my power. It’s creating it and using it to fuel me with good energy,” I snap back.
Silence.
One second, two seconds, three… and then, a burst of laughter.
“Oh my God!” my best friend exclaims. “Good for you, Everly. Jesus, I’ve been waiting for you to bang someone for years now.”
“What?”
“This is good. I take back everything I said. Go forth and get naked as much as you can with your Scottish lover.”
Taking another gulp of my wine, I try to navigate the confusion that this conversation is causing. “Um, Addi, what are you talking about? You’re confusing the hell out of me.”
“Ev, sex is good. It’s an important step to you moving on from cockless Corey.”
I snort at Addison’s nickname for Corey, especially now that there isn’t any chance of him overhearing her. For so long, her casual use of the nickname caused anxiety to wash over me like a tsunami. What if Corey overheard her? What if someone told him in jest? What if, what it, what if…? But now, finally, I can embrace my freedom and laugh along with her because the truth is Corey is fucking cockless. Any man who treats a woman the way he treated me is clearly overcompensating for… well, everything.
“I’m proud of you. This is a massive improvement. But don’t go getting attached or falling in love or anything dumb. You need to stay in control of your ship, chart your own course, steer your own destiny, blah, blah, whatever the analogy is. You get my drift?” Addison continues.
“I feel ya, babe. But today, I’m happy. I’m zen. I’m in a really good place. So, let me have today. In fact, I’m drinking a delicious Pinot Grigio as we speak.” I take another sip, closing my eyes.