by Nikki Ash
I bite down on my lower lip, almost breaking the skin. I can’t take the feeling of his hands touching me again. Too many memories flood my mind, and I whip around. “What the hell to you, Jake!” Two years of built-up anger and betrayal. I’ve always imagined how this day would happen. What I would say. What he would do. Would it be a beautiful reunion or an ugly showdown? Right now I’m putting my money on the showdown.
“Yeah, what the hell? I don’t see or hear from you in two years, and I finally run into you, and you run away from me?” He looks hurt, like I’m the one who wounded him.
“And how exactly did you imagine I would react after you turned your back on me?” You broke my heart.
“I didn’t turn my back—” But he did, and he knows it. “You know I didn’t have a choice,” he growls.
“You didn’t have a choice to…what? Warn me? Tell me you were moving across the world with no way of contacting you? With Rebecca, no less? Or should I have been content with your cold and heartless letter—”
“What the hell are you talking about? Heartless? I practically poured my damn heart out in that letter. I explained. Told you how to reach me so we could talk as soon as I was settled. I left it with your mother the night I left.”
His steely gaze takes hold of me, and my heart stops. Air escapes my lungs, and I gasp. I wish I could deny my mother would do such a hateful thing and hide it from me, but I can’t. The only letter I received was him turning us away. “Well...that’s not the version I got.” The worst part is there’s not a doubt in my mind she read it, which means she knew damn well our love was real and still chose to shame me. “What did the letter say?”
He studies me for a moment before shoving his hands through his hair. “It said I was sorry for how I was leaving. It was why I was so angry at the guest house. My father tricked me, no doubt my mother as well. There was no plan for me to do my residency upstate. It was to ship me away to France and do it under the nose of a man my father owed a favor to. And by sending Rebecca with me, it would push us to get engaged.”
It brings back the pain of his letter and his request to let him and Rebecca have their happiness. “And how’d that go? Did I miss the wedding invite too?” I snap, so damn angry, my hands begin to shake.
His mouth opens, and a stunned gasp falls from his parted lips. “What? No! No. It never happened.” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “Turns out, she wanted to be married to me about as much as I wanted to be with her. She was so desperate to get out of it, she leaked some photos of herself in a compromising position. It caused a huge scandal. She was in France for less than a week.” I don’t know whether to be thrilled or angrier.
He takes a step toward me, but I back up. I can’t be this close to him. “Willa, I came home a few months later, but you were gone. Your mother said you decided to take a year off and travel.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes tightly closed. “My mother, huh?”
“Yeah. Where have you been? Why haven’t you called me? I thought after that night. I thought we—”
I start to crack at the seams. It feels like the proverbial rug is being ripped from under me. I need it all to stop. To freeze time so I can catch up to the confusion threatening to suck me into this abyss. Without thought or consequence, I raise my hand and smack him across his face, stopping any further words.
His eyes grow wide at my assault, and so do mine. I cover my mouth, holding back the devastating sob threatening to tear up my throat. What have I just done?
Before he’s able to react, I turn and run.
“I love you, Willa. I’ll never leave you.” His lips find mine as he breaches my entrance, kissing away my pain until it morphs into pleasure. His grunts and my moans collide into a melody of love, desire, and promise. I climax, holding him close, and he whispers his love for me just before he—
I shoot up in bed, the dream all too real. I’ve soaked through my shirt, hot with the lingering feel of his touch. I run my fingers down my arms, my skin suddenly too sensitive. It’s not real. But…it is. He is. And after two years, he’s back.
I reach for my water and take a huge gulp. My throat is dry, and my eyes are swollen from the tears that refused to stop once I got home and put Bria in bed. Sister Helen’s words resonate in my mind. Life has a strange way of telling us that even though we don’t believe in second chances, we all get them. But how am I supposed to forget the last two years? The betrayal I felt? The anger and brokenness I couldn’t hide from? How am I supposed to say, “Oh, wow, what a huge misunderstanding. If you didn’t write the letter I read, then my mother’s the worst kind of bitch. By the way, you got me pregnant, and we have a baby girl. Wanna do lunch some time?”
As soon as I’ve cried myself to sleep again, Bria wakes up. Seeing her little face and the same eyes and smile as her daddy sets off another round of sobs. Why is this happening to me? Is this my second chance, or is life trying to take me out for good?
It doesn’t matter. This is a big town. Trying to find anyone is like finding a needle in a haystack. Even if I want to, it’s probably impossible to locate him. Does he even live here? Is he visiting? Is he alone? Is he with someone? My mind turns and turns on a vicious wheel, unhinged and too fast. He’s not with Rebecca, but he didn’t say he isn’t with anyone else. Why didn’t I look at his finger? Because you were too busy looking at his lips, emerald green eyes—what used to be your lifeline.
In the silence of us catching our breath, my mind screamed out to him. I miss him, I love him, I want us to rewind time and never leave that damn guest house. I would have convinced him to run away. That life wasn’t about what our parents had made us believe. If I had known money wasn’t what made the world go round, I would have run away sooner—made it on my own and lived the way the normal human race did. Being free is a richer feeling than being captive.
Before I can get back to sleep, my alarm goes off. “Great,” I grumble and slide out of bed. The shower barely wakes me, and Bria has no sympathy as she cries in my ear. Maybe it’s because she knows I saw her daddy last night, slapped him, and basically gave up my chance to tell him about her and let them have a future. She deserves that, even if he doesn’t want one with me.
As usual, Carrie saves me, and I’m running to work, praying my boss is late.
“Tsk, tsk, Willa. You know I don’t like tardiness. Meet me in my office immediately.” Mr. Anderson walks by me, his stomach protruding as always, the stench of stale coffee and cigar smoke following in his trail.
“Yes, sir.” I nod and drop my purse under my desk.
“Hey!” I jump at the sound of another voice. “Oh, sorry. Someone’s jumpy today.”
I turn to Tracey. “No, yes…I don’t know. I didn’t sleep well last night. Bria was up…”
She smiles at me with sympathetic eyes. “Aw, sorry, honey. She’s still so young. They grow out of it.” I hope so. I never imagined how hard it would be to raise a baby on my own. I miss the sisters and their support. Sometimes I worry I’m in over my head. Am I really cut out to give Bria the life she deserves? “Hey, don’t look so defeated. It will get better.”
“Will it, though?” I shake my head, ashamed of my unmotherly thoughts. “I’m sorry. I know it will. I love my daughter, and I’m thankful for everything, it’s just…”
“You’re tired. I get it. I watched my older sister go through this. She was a total bitch for the first three years with her first child.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks.”
Tracey laughs. “Well, she’s normally a bitch, so that doesn’t really say much. Listen, you know I love kids. If you ever need a time out, I’m your girl. I’ll watch her, and you can frolic around town. Meet a guy. Find her a daddy—wait, speaking of, who was the guy last night?”
“Funny you ask—”
“Willa! In my office now!”
“Ugh,” I grunt. “Sorry, I have to—can we finish this later?”
“Sure thing. Lunch?”
Noddi
ng, I take a huge breath and prepare to fight off my gross boss.
I need this job.
I need this job.
I need this job.
I chant it over and over as I gather my things and leave for the night. Mr. Anderson found any and every tedious task for me to do today after turning down his disgusting advances. I was forced to work through lunch, and now I’m running late to get home. I rush down the stairs, because the building is old and the elevator is slow, and hurry out into the busy street in hopes to flag down a cab since catching the subway will take too long. The evening air chills my face.
“Willa.”
I jerk back and drop my bag, turning to my right. Jake leans against the building, his hands hidden in the pockets of his gray overcoat. Seeing the contents of my purse spilled over the sidewalk, he pushes off the wall. “Shit. Let me help you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” I gather my bearings and quickly bend to collect my discarded belongings. He doesn’t listen and kneels down to assist me. Panic courses through my veins. Why is he here? How did he find me? Snatching up my keys and gum, I shove them into my purse. I reach for my work badge at the same time he does, and our hands touch. The warmth of his skin sends a rush of memories to the front of my mind. Us in the pool. Movie nights. The guest house. My eyes drift up, afraid of what I’ll see when I look at him. His tousled hair hangs in thick waves over his forehead, and I ache to reach for it, feel the silkiness between my fingers.
Shit. What am I doing?
I push back the ache to spill my truths and confess the secrets I’ve been harboring. But then I remember the secrets he’s also kept from me. “I—I have to go.” I forfeit the remainder of my things, pulling my hand back. My skin goes cold at the absence of his touch, and I frown. He nods and stands with me.
Once upon a time, I had basked in our silences—our safe place we built where words didn’t need to exist because our body language spoke for us. But now, as we stand here, his hands shoved into his pockets and mine clutched into fists, I beg for those words. I turn around to once again run away when his voice stops me.
“Willa, wait. Please. Just…have dinner with me.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes. “What?”
That smile. “I said have dinner with me. One meal. If for some reason you can’t bear to be in my presence, I’ll leave you alone.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting a whirlwind of responses. It’s not that I’m scared I won’t be able to bear his company, it’s that I won’t be able to let him walk away. My heart is too weak. My memories of us are always too fresh. How do I pretend? “I’m not—”
“Please?” A simple plea. One word that always got me to cave.
Please? Just one lap.
Please? Just one movie.
Please? Just one truth.
Before I can conjure up an excuse, my reply falls off my tongue. “Okay, fine.” Oh God, that wasn’t the no I’d planned on saying. “But I can’t stay too long. I have to get home.” He nods, thankful for my reply. Pulling out my phone, I text Carrie to let her know I’m running late. Thankfully, she replies with, “No problem.”
We walk together in silence down the busy sidewalk. Every so often, our hands brush against one another. Each connection is like a livewire, sparking up feelings I’ve fought so hard to bury deep down inside. When I can’t take it anymore, I stop to tell him this was a bad idea at the same time he turns and points to a neon sign. “It’s right here. A hidden Italian place. Best in town.” I look up, never noticing it before. “After you.” He allows me to go first and holds the door for me. Ashamed, I can’t help but inhale his cologne as I pass. My eyes flutter closed, memorizing the scent.
A small pudgy man in an apron approaches us as we enter the quaint restaurant “Ahhh, Mr. DuPont, lovely to see you this evening. Pleasure to have you dining with us again. And who is your beautiful guest you’ve brought in this time?” He reaches out to take my hand. I’m hesitant, but comply, and he cups my palm, kissing the top of my hand.
“Francisco, this is Willa.”
“A pleasure, Willa.” He raises his eyes to Jake. “You sure do have a good eye for the ladies.”
I jerk, pulling my hand away. He brings women here, and I’m no different. I back up, inhaling a sharp breath, but his hands are at my waist, his lips warming my earlobe. “Relax. I’ve only been here with a colleague. A platonic colleague.”
“Come, come. Let me get you seated.” He signals for us to follow, and my legs eventually unlock. One in front of the other, I train my feet to move and not concentrate too much on Jake’s hand resting on my lower back. When he pulls my seat out, I practically fall into it.
Jake settles into the chair across from me, weighing my mood. “So…how are you? How have you been—good? Healthy?” he stops, fidgeting with the napkin.
I’m torn between truth and lies. Confession or deceit. My mouth becomes dry, and I stall by taking a sip of water. “I’m good.” He exhales slowly, disheartened by my short answer. “And you? How are you?”
“Oh, well…good too…” Silence washes over us. My fingers begin to tap against the table as his tear at the napkin. “Okay, I don’t know why this is so nerve wracking. This isn’t us.”
My eyes stop bouncing off everything in sight and focus on him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this isn’t us. We’ve never been uncomfortable or nervous around one another. I don’t know what’s changed. But it has. Did I do something? Was it that night? Did I force you—”
“No.” I cut him off. I can’t bear to hear him tell me it was a mistake.
“Then tell me what’s wrong. Why did you disappear on me?”
“I didn’t disappear. I—” I was forced away. I had our baby. “I just had to get away.”
His face turns ashen at my reply. He opens and closes his mouth, wanting to say more, demand I tell him more, but he gives in. “Look, I’m sorry. For everything—”
I shoot up from the table, unable to hear it. “Wait, where are you going?” His voice is laced in confusion.
“I can’t sit here and listen to you tell me that night was a mistake. I just can’t.”
He reaches for my hand, the warmth of his fingers entwining through mine. Life sparks through my veins as his eyes pierce into mine. “Willa, if there is one thing in my life I will never regret, it’s that.” I inhale and exhale, needing to remind myself to breathe. “I’m sorry for what came after. I shouldn’t have left you alone that night. I should have told you right away. That night at the party…my father told me. I was furious. I was sick of being pulled left and right. Being my father’s pawn. And then getting told I was being shipped off to France…do you even know what that did to me?”
I remember how furious he was. “Then you showed up. You’ve always been this bright light in our dark world. For so long, I watched you, wishing things were different while knowing it was wrong to harbor all these feelings that kept me up at night. Then you came to me, and I knew it was now or never. It was in that moment I knew I either allowed you to see the feelings that had been suffocating me or walk away for good.”
His words spin too fast in my mind, and I latch onto the table for support. “Say something. Tell me you hate me or forgive me. Tell me you have a reason for cutting me out of your life so I can understand. Tell me you hate me for stealing your first time meant for someone else. But talk to me.”
“That night meant everything to me.” The first truth falls off my lips, along with a single tear. “You gave me so much. A memory that gave me strength. A moment that allowed me to fight the battles ahead of me—”
“What battles? Why’d you disappear?” I shake my head. Anger consumes my thoughts at my mother. At his. Two conniving witches consumed with societal expectations. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you go to school like you planned—”
“Because you weren’t going to be there. Because you made a promise and broke it, and I couldn’t be in a
place filled with deceit.” I can’t. I can’t do this. I rip my hand away from his and run from the table. Pushing through the restaurant doors, I take off down the deserted sidewalk when two hands reach for me and whip me around, pulling me into the alley.
Jake’s plush lips collide against mine, our unexpected connection bruising and demanding. He pushes me up against the cold brick building, and I fight him off, but not because I don’t want him, because I’m too angry, too hurt. My fingers clutch around his dress shirt, and I suddenly find myself tugging him closer instead of shoving him away. My hands tremble as I slide them up and around his neck, deepening our kiss. “Fuck, Willa. Was I wrong? Did I read us wrong? Was it all in my head that you and I—”
“No, it was all real.” I pull at his hair as his hands work up my dress. “I wanted you. I loved you.” He nips at my lower lip.
“Loved. Past tense?” His lips work down my neck, his hands disappearing beneath the fabric of my panties. I moan at his touch, aching to feel him once again, replace my fantasies with reality. “Tell me…tell me what you’re thinking. It’s just us now. No one standing in our way.”
His ignorant words are like a bucket of ice being dumped over my head. I rip out of his hold, his fiery gaze a mixture of desire and confusion. “It’s not just us. And there are too many things standing in our way. There always have been. You’re just too blind to see them.”
His mouth parts in shock. He takes a step back, prepared to fight me, but I take off. This time, he doesn’t follow me. I forgo the subway. My legs are on fire as I run, and my entire body shivers at the memory of tonight. My mind gets lost replaying the events. When I come back to reality, I’m walking up my apartment steps.
“Hey—whoa, are you okay?” Carrie pops up from the couch and sets down a magazine.
“Yeah, just couldn’t catch a cab and didn’t want to be any later than I am.” I grab onto a kitchen chair to steady myself because my legs are about to give out. “Thanks for staying late.” I exhale, worried I may just pass out at my kitchen table.