by Erin Zak
“Thank you for coming to the bar last night,” she says next to my ear.
“Thank you for coming up to talk to me. I know that wasn’t something you wanted to do.”
She shakes her head while laughing. “You’re very right. I didn’t want to do it.”
“Then why did you?” I slide my arms over her shoulders as we move in time to a very bass-laden version of “White Christmas.”
She shrugs, a small smile on her lips. “I guess I wanted to know if this was as real as it felt the last time.”
“And? What did you find out?”
Again, she shrugs. “I’m not sure yet.”
I let out a puff of air. “Ouch,” I say softly as I go to move my arms. “I mean, I guess I understand since I really did rip your heart out again—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she says as she takes my arms and wraps them around her waist. “I didn’t say it doesn’t feel as real.”
“It’s sort of what you’re saying.”
“Actually, no, it’s not.” She takes a deep breath, we turn on the dance floor, and now move slowly with Sarah McLachlan’s version of “River.” “You feel more real than you did last time, which is sort of scary.”
“Francesca,” I try to whisper, but her words have taken my breath away. I’ve stopped moving as I place my hand on my chest. My eyes have welled with tears.
“Listen to me,” she whispers when she leans closer, her warm breath brushing my cheek. “You changed my life the night you came into it.” I feel the intake of air, then the release. “I’ve told you how broken I was, but I think beyond being broken, I was…lost.”
“Francesca,” I say, but she pulls back a little and looks into my eyes.
“I’m not saying you found me, but I feel like maybe I found myself when you and this gorgeous blond hair came waltzing out of the air I’d found so hard to breathe.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you only love me for my hair?” I smile, and thankfully, she gets that I’m joking.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” We both laugh, and before I lose the nerve, I lean forward and kiss her again, kiss her the way I’ve been wanting to kiss her since I saw her, the way I’ve missed kissing her since we parted.
When we break apart, breathless, she lets out a low, throaty laugh, a laugh I’ve wanted to hear again and again since the very first time I heard it. She pushes her hands beneath my hair toward the back of my neck. She presses her fingers into the base of my skull before she pushes them into my hair, up my scalp. My entire body erupts with goose bumps. I lean my head back as she moves her hands from my head, and I feel her nip at my neck, then her lips latch on to the skin right over my pulse point. My panties are damp within an instant, and everything in my body is screaming for release. It’s been months since I’ve come. I haven’t touched myself. I haven’t wanted to. I haven’t wanted to be reminded of the way she made me feel. I didn’t think I’d ever get the opportunity to feel that way again. But now, here she is, moving with me, in front of me, kissing my neck, and the memory of good has flooded back like the tide.
“Cecily?”
I feel her breath against my ear. “Yes?”
“If we don’t stop this, I’m going to take you to the bathroom and have my way with you.”
“What a way to ring in the new year,” I say with a laugh before we reluctantly break apart. “Yeah, I don’t want our first time back together to be in a bathroom.” I feel stupid. I’m assuming there will be a first time again. I stop moving on the dance floor. “I don’t…I mean…wait…that’s not what I meant.”
She smiles, her head tilting to the side. “Yes, it is what you meant. And I agree with you.” She pulls away the tiniest of bits. “I don’t want it to be in a bathroom, either.”
“Oh thank God.”
She is laughing as she pulls me back to the bar. “Let’s stop being so sentimental. We need to party.” She points at Brenda, Max, and Armando. They are all dancing together, their arms in the air, drinks held to the sky, and they are singing “Baby Got Back” at the top of their lungs. I’m sure the partygoers had no idea the entertainment was going to be a group of middle-aged idiots.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cecily
I roll over slowly and peel my eyes open. The room is bright, and when I lift my head, the subtle throbbing begins to beat even harder. I fall back to the mattress. I’m in my suite bedroom. That much is sure. I recognize the view. Sort of. I lift the covers. I’m completely naked.
Oh no.
We had sex last night, and I don’t even remember it?
Oh no.
I search my memory bank. What the hell happened to me? How did I go from dancing with Francesca to this, the beginning of a raging hangover? I wince as I turn my head and check the space next to me. It’s empty. Either Francesca is already gone or…Again, I run through the frames of last night’s shenanigans.
The VIP party.
The dancing.
The drinking.
Kissing Francesca as the countdown reached three, two, one.
The entire club erupting in cheers as the clock turned to midnight.
Armando and Max kissing.
Brenda dancing with a strange but very cute older man.
Hanging out then with said older man, who must have been rich because now the memory of multiple old-fashioneds while playing table games on the casino floor at the Cosmo are flooding back.
Oh my God, the taste of bourbon is filling my mouth. I swallow the urge to vomit.
What did we do next?
I rub my head. I literally do not remember coming back to the hotel. I am so ashamed of myself. I groan as I sit up. The room is moving in time to the throbbing of my head. I have got to get some medicine, or I’m going to die. When I glance at the nightstand to check the time, I see it’s only six in the morning. Relief floods my veins because I have more time to sleep. There is a bottle of water and four ibuprofen sitting next to the clock. I grab them, unscrew the cap, and hurry to swallow the pills with a few gulps of liquid.
I fall back on the pillows and sigh. I am such an idiot. I must have been so messed up that I performed badly, which is why Francesca is no longer here.
I am such an idiot.
The next time I wake up, it’s close to nine. My headache feels ten times better. I am so happy I took those pills that some wonderful person left.
I pull on clothes and tidy myself in the bathroom. I look like death warmed over. Ugh. I am not twenty-one any longer. That’s for damn sure.
When I head downstairs, I see someone on the couch. I figure it’s Brenda, but when I get to the landing, I see it’s Francesca. My heart jumps into my throat.
Why is she still here?
Oh no.
I’m going to have to face her as soon as she wakes up.
I creep around the couch and over to the other bedroom. I push the door open and see three sets of feet hanging over the end of the bed. Are you kidding me? I tiptoe across the carpet. Brenda is snuggled between Max and Armando, and I am speechless. Did she…No. There’s no way. I turn, and there is a pile of clothes.
I shake my head and get the heck out before one of them wakes up. As soon as I get to the living area, I see Francesca’s head pop up, and she looks over at me. I stop dead in my tracks.
“What are you doing up?”
“Um.”
“What time is it?” She looks around for a clock.
“It’s nine in the morning.”
As she sits up on the couch, she starts smiling. “How are you feeling?”
I shrug. “I’ve had better mornings.” This causes her to smile even wider. “What? Seriously?”
“You were so drunk.” She giggles. “And I had to drag you to bed.”
I cringe. “I am so sorry,” I say as I rub my face. I’m so embarrassed. I don’t want to look at her.
“Don’t be sorry. I tried to find you pajamas, but by the time I had them in my hand, you were already pas
sed out. Did you find the ibuprofen and water?”
Wait. I move my hands and stare. “Wait.”
“What?”
“We didn’t…” I motion toward the both of us. “Like…y’know.”
She laughs. “Uh, no. You were in no condition.”
“Oh thank God.” I am so relieved I can barely stand. I sit on the stairs.
“Okay then.” Her eyes are wide, and she looks away and across the room, shaking her head.
“No, Francesca.” I hold up a hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant…I don’t remember going to bed, so I was disappointed in myself for forgetting.”
Again, she turns to look over her shoulder. “You sure?”
I nod. “I am positive.”
We spend what feels like ten minutes gazing at each other before she clears her throat and says, “So what a night, hmm?”
“Thank you for the medicine. And the water.”
“You’re welcome.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
And as I’m preparing to stand and go over so I can kiss her again and feel her again, I hear a throat clearing behind me. Brenda is standing there in a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top. Her makeup is smeared under her eyes, and her hair is a total rat’s nest.
“What the hell happened last night?”
Francesca and I both chuckle. “Don’t ask your sister. She has no idea, either.”
I shake my head when Brenda looks at me, her mouth hanging open. “I know. We really tied one on last night.”
Brenda puts her hands on her forehead. “I am too old for this.”
“Oh, come on,” Francesca says with a laugh. “At least you didn’t think you slept with someone when you really hadn’t.”
“Hey now,” I say softly as I glare.
“Well,” Brenda starts as she takes the couple steps to get to the kitchen. She presses the button on the coffeepot so it will start its brew cycle. “What if you remember what happened, but it involves you making a total fool of yourself?”
“Jesus Christ,” Francesca says, and lets out a puff of air at the end. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Brenda leans against the countertop. Her eyes are wide, and I don’t know if she’s blinked since she took a step out here.
“Bren, seriously, I doubt anything happened.”
“Oh no, I know nothing happened. I’m just…wow. What a night. I haven’t had that much to drink since I was—”
“In your thirties?” I ask, and she nods.
“I know you’re being a smartass, but seriously, you’re not wrong.”
Francesca starts to laugh. “You two party like rock stars.”
I pull Brenda into a hug as we both chuckle along with Francesca.
“Good morning, ladies.”
Brenda and I release each other as Armando trots down the two steps into the living area, wearing a white T-shirt and his boxer briefs, and flings himself over the back of the couch onto Francesca.
“What the hell, Armando,” she says after letting out an umph.
He’s laughing the entire time. “How are we feeling this morning?” He’s speaking entirely too loudly, so we all shush him.
“The two of them are very hungover,” Francesca says. “I’m fine. Of course.”
“Breakfast? Where are we going?”
“Well, I hate to do this to you all, but my flight takes off in a little over four hours, so I need to get ready and get to the airport,” Brenda says as she moves to the oversized chair and sits. She props her feet on the coffee table. “And you know you’re not fine.”
Armando pulls himself up and moves over to her. He sits on her lap and wraps his arms around her. “Aw, come on, Brenda. Don’t leave. Just stay forever. We love you.”
The smile on her face is beautiful. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long, long time. She’s not unhappy as a mom and a wife, but I know she loves being loved by someone other than her family. I mean, who doesn’t? “I wish I could stay, my love, but I cannot. Kids and husband. Remember?”
He kisses her forehead. “I do love you, though,” he says, his lips pressed against her forehead. I have to wonder what the hell happened between the three of them last night, but I do not want to actually find out. I don’t think I could handle it if they did something…together…although, who am I to talk? I had an affair and expected Brenda to be cool about it.
“I love you, too,” Brenda says while hugging him.
“I’ll wake Max up, and we’ll get out of your hair.” He stands and looks at Francesca. “You two can come with us to breakfast.”
“I think we’ll pass,” she says softly. “Thanks, though.”
“Okay, suit yourself.”
Francesca pats the seat next to her on the couch. “Come sit down, Cecily.” I do as she says. She takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “So you need a ride to the airport, Brenda?”
“No, no. I’ll take a cab or a Lyft. No worries.” She smiles as she stands. “You two have a lot of catching up to do before you leave tomorrow, Cecily.” And she walks away, disappearing into the guest room with Armando and Max.
“Can we spend the whole day together?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.” Her fingers are under my chin, and she’s lifting so I’ll look at her. I make eye contact, and she kisses me. I relax into the kiss, into her, and into what I hope is a day I will never forget.
Francesca
The last thing I want to do is sit still with Cecily all day. I want to walk with her, hold her hand, show her some of my favorite sights in Vegas, have food with her, see her smile. Which seems strange since I spent the last six months trying to forget her, or at least trying to forget the hurt she caused. I know she feels as if she was the reason behind it all, but it wasn’t her fault. It was our fault for not reacting differently. I should have never let her push me away. And she should have never attempted to do so.
We know who the true villain in the story is.
And it’s not Willow.
The true villain is low self-esteem and the inability to think we are worth the sacrifice love sometimes involves. I know now I’m worth it. And I believe Cecily also thinks she’s worth it. But before all of this happened, I would have never thought a love like this was possible.
Cecily still takes me by surprise. My feelings for her came so fast out of what felt like nothing, a chance meeting at a bar turned into a love story I never expected or wanted.
And now she is all I want. My heart aches thinking about letting her go tomorrow. I try not to think about saying good-bye. Every time I look at her, my heart starts to ache, which is why if we’re busy, maybe I won’t end up as a pile of emotion.
I know the ache of watching her leave is unavoidable. At least this time, the good-bye can actually happen. And we can find a way to maybe make this work.
“Do you want to try this long-distance thing?” she asks as we both dig into a large basket of french fries at the café on the second floor of the casino. She is also drinking root beer, which is the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
“I mean, is that something you want to do?” I watch for her reaction. I don’t want her to take it wrong because I want to do this. But long-distance means trusting each other, and can two damaged people find the strength to trust someone else when we barely trust ourselves?
She shrugs and shoves another fry in her mouth. “I’m worried about it.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re honest,” I say with a small laugh.
“I trust you.” She grabs three more fries and dips them in the cup of ranch dressing she absolutely had to have. Before she shoves the fries in her mouth, she says, “I wouldn’t like being away from you. I think it’ll be difficult.”
“I agree.”
“And you don’t want to move to Chicago.”
“I never said that.”
“Come on.” She lets out a puff of air. Her hair is pulled away from her face into a ponytail. She’s wearing her
glasses, minimal makeup, and I love seeing her so free and unafraid of being herself. “It is cold there. Like, fucking cold.”
I let my mouth fall open. “Excuse me? Fucking cold, hmm?”
She laughs. “Yes. It’s cold.”
“Can I tell you something?” I lean forward and prop my elbows on the table. “I started taking classes like five years ago…”
“What kind of classes?”
“Well, they go toward a nursing degree.” I smile and reach for her hands. “I think maybe I’d like to get out of this whole bartending thing.”
“Francesca, are you sure?”
“Honestly?” It seems like such an easy question, but something stops me from continuing. I look around the café. It’s busy, and people are clearly nursing hangovers with burgers and fries and milkshakes, which makes me smile. I don’t know if I could leave this, the hustle and bustle of Vegas and casino life. “I’m not sure, no.”
“Well, then, let’s take it slow. We don’t have to make any decisions right away.”
“I know,” I say, followed by a sigh. “But I have to say this.” She blinks once, twice, and motions for me to continue. “Ever since this happened between us, I’ve been floating along. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I had things figured out. Especially my heart because getting it ripped out was hard, and then what happened with us?” I take a breath at the same time she does. “I don’t know how to explain this except to say I have only ever been sure of two things. One is my family. I love them and would do anything for them. Even Armando, who, as you know, is a lot to handle.”
She smiles, and I feel it deep in my stomach. “And the other?”
“The other is you, Cecily.” I shake my head as emotion starts to bubble inside me. “I know it’s crazy. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought what we had was a flash in the pan, something to help me get past Willow. But you, the very spirit of you, seems to have seeped into my bones and life without you…” I don’t know how to finish my sentence. I sound so dramatic. Life without her has been fucking miserable. It’s been unbearable. It’s been hardly worth living. But that’s a lot to lay on her right now. And for the one millionth time, I remind myself we barely know each other.
