Again: A Second Chance Romance

by Nikki Chase

  “Damn it,” Raphael curses playfully. “Well, good night, princess.”

  My heart swells when he calls me that. It’s stupid, I know, but I do feel like a princess today, after the luxurious wedding, the ride in Raphael’s convertible, and the diamond ring.

  “Good night, Rafe.”

  I turn around and walk up the sidewalk to the main door of the apartment. Raphael’s car doesn’t leave until I’m safe inside the building.

  It’s been a magical night. He has set the bar pretty high for a date. I don’t know if my future real dates can ever measure up to this fake one.

  We’re somewhere near the shore, but the area is not familiar to me. Not surprising, since I’ve never been to most places not served by public transport.

  Raphael grabs my large nylon tote bag from the back seat before I can touch it. He carries it and his own duffel bag easily with one hand.

  “Where are we staying?” I ask. I don’t see anything that looks remotely like a hotel around here. In fact, the place looks more industrial than anything.

  “You’ll see,” Raphael says with a secretive smile. “I’m glad you chose to wear a skirt today, by the way.”

  “It just seems like the kind of thing a girlfriend would want to wear to meet the family,” I say. At least that’s what the articles online tell me, which is why I’m wearing a flowy A-line floral skirt instead of my usual skinny jeans.

  But I keep that bit of information to myself. There’s no need to let Raphael know how nervous I am about this, and how much Googling I’ve done over the past few days.

  “You mean a fiancée,” he says.

  “Yeah.”

  My jaw drops when we come to a clearing right by the water. There’s a big square area paved with concrete. On top of it is a helicopter.

  Upon seeing us approach, some guys wearing black polo shirts beckon and point at the helicopter, I assume telling us to get in?

  “Uh, Rafe?” I call out.

  “Yeah.” He sounds amused. I know he’s staring at me now, watching my reaction.

  “We’re getting on that?” I point at the big chunk of metal that has so far in my life been either a prop on some TV show or a thing flying high above me in the sky. I’ve never even seen a helicopter up close, much less used one as a mode of transport. “Where are we going, exactly?” I ask, suddenly realizing I haven’t heard any details about the venue. “We’re not leaving the country, are we?”

  “No, princess.” Raphael laughs. “I would’ve asked you to bring your passport if we were. Besides, there’s not enough fuel in there to take us to Mexico, which is the closest foreign country from here.”

  A thrill runs down my spine as I hear him call me princess again.

  “And now you’ll see why I like seeing you in that skirt,” he says, wearing a naughty grin on his handsome face.

  The helicopter engine roars to life and fills the air with the whirring of its wings. It wipes out all other sounds, until I can’t even say anything to Raphael.

  I’m too busy holding down my skirt anyway. It’s annoying, but I also feel kind of glamorous. It’s like Marilyn Monroe’s classic pose.

  Raphael holds out his hand to help me get into the helicopter. I’m glad he’s carrying my bag for me, because between holding on to him and keeping my skirt down, I’ve run out of hands.

  Soon, the chopper floats up into the air, and I watch through the window as San Francisco grows smaller and smaller, until it looks like a toy city inside a display case at Toys ‘R Us.

  I still don’t know where we’re going. And considering how loud the chopper is, it’s not like I can just ask. All I can do is look down as we get further and further away from the shore.

  It occurs to me that I’m completely at Raphael’s mercy now. He can take me anywhere and nobody would be able to find me.

  Nobody even knows where I’m going. All Carly knows is I have a date, and Dad knows absolutely nothing about my life. Nobody’s going to come find me if I go missing. I’m only realizing now how stupid I’ve been.

  Still, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Raphael seems like a good person…right? He doesn’t strike me as the kidnapping type.

  It takes about fifteen minutes for us to reach a small island. From above, I can see some tiny houses in the middle of the island, but they grow bigger and bigger as we get closer, until I can’t quite believe structures this big could exist in such a remote, isolated place.

  We get off the helicopter, and Raphael leads me toward the buildings at the center of the island. He syncs his pace with mine and leans closer. He says, “I like that skirt. Too bad you didn’t take my recommendation about going commando.”

  I blush, embarrassed and excited at the same time. So I guess I flashed him my panties after all.

  It’s not that I’ve never been at the receiving end of male attention. I’ve just never felt this way about it before.

  With other men, their lines just creep me out. With Raphael, though… I don’t know. The things he says send tingles all over my body. It’s almost like he’s touching me with just his words. And I like it.

  We stand at the door to one of the buildings, which I now see are some kind of holiday villas. I can hear the murmur of conversation inside, as well as some childish shrieking.

  Raphael winks at me and pushes the door open.

  Raphael

  Piper and I are the last ones to arrive. We’re told to go straight to the function room, where everybody else is already waiting.

  “Wait, shouldn’t I change first?” Piper asks. She looks fine—perfect, even—in her green floral skirt and white shirt. She looks like she belongs on an island.

  “No, you look great,” I say. “It’s not a formal dress code. Don’t worry about it.”

  We stay at this private island every year to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. Diana, her parents, her husband, and her kids are always present, as well as a few family friends.

  But I’m surprised to see Miranda sitting at one of the tables arranged neatly in the function room. I shoot Diana a questioning look, but she just shrugs her shoulder. What is that girl doing here?

  I ignore her for now. I have way more important things to take care of. I’m here on a fucking mission.

  I put my hand around Piper’s shoulders and lead her to my parents’ table. Her muscles are tense, so I squeeze her arm and give her a smile.

  “All you have to do is look pretty,” I say. “And you already do.”

  She blushes, but she can’t hide the smile playing on her lips. Good. Now she’s a little more relaxed.

  “Happy anniversary, Mom, Dad,” I say as I hand them the present.

  “Thank you,” Mom says. She takes the present, puts it on the table, and pulls me into a hug. She notices Piper immediately. Shooting me a meaningful smile, she asks, “And who’s this?”

  I introduce Piper to my parents, then my mom whisks her away to meet everyone else, since she’s practically a part of the family now.

  I take the opportunity to sit down with Dad. Let’s see if I can persuade him to give me back my old position at the bank. I was doing really well, after all, until I got arrested by the cops. That wasn’t really part of my career plan.

  “Wow, thirty-five years, huh? This is one of the big milestones, right?” I ask as I take a seat on the chair Mom left.

  “It doesn’t feel like it has been that long,” Dad says with a faraway look in his green eyes.

  I always get told how much I resemble him. I never used to see it before, but I look more and more like him the older I get.

  “When it’s the right person, time just flies by.” Turning to look at me, he says, “Looks like things are going well with your new fiancée. How did you propose? Did you do a big gesture? Ladies love that.”

  “Oh, yeah. Piper, she deserves the biggest gesture.”

  “Sounds like you’re smitten, son,” he says approvingly. “I didn’t think I’d see the day. You know, I never got my act togeth
er until I met your mom.”

  I’ve heard the story a thousand times before, but I let him tell me once again about how he used to be some junkie and how he beat his addiction with sheer will because he wanted to be with Mom so much.

  He’s in a good mood, and I’m not going to ruin it by cutting him off. What good would that do?

  “Oh, sorry, I got carried away again,” Dad says. “So, tell me all about the proposal.”

  I put on my poker face and tell him the story of a picture-perfect proposal that would never fly in the real world. It involves a full moon, jazz in the background, and me getting on one knee.

  Dad being the hopeless romantic, he buys it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Hey, I’ll go get some oysters and greet some people.”

  “Oh, I thought we were going to, like, chat a little. You’re always so busy at the office.” And I was really hoping to seal the deal right away.

  “Oh, there’s no rush. We’ll still be here tomorrow. I hope you’re ready for the toast,” Dad says as he gets up from his chair.

  “Of course.” I only do it every single year—not counting the years I was in prison.

  I scan the room for Piper and find her sitting at a table with my mom and a bunch of her shopping buddies, probably talking about the latest collection released by some European designer whose name I can’t pronounce.

  She looks bored, or lost, and definitely uncomfortable. So I walk over to their table.

  “Excuse me, ladies. I’m going to need my fiancée,” I announce. That earns me some oohs and ahhs from Mom’s friends.

  “Doesn’t it feel great to finally call her your fiancée?” One woman comments. “I remember when…” She continues talking, but I’m not paying attention. I gesture at Piper to get out of there so I can whisk her away to freedom.

  “That’s a great story,” I say to the woman. I don’t remember her name, to be honest. Or the story she’s just told two minutes ago.

  I take Piper by the hand and pull her away, but not before taking my leave from the table. My mom would have no qualms about scolding me in front of all these people if I forgot my manners.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you get stuck there,” I say to Piper on our way to the buffet table.

  “No, it’s okay. Technically, I’m working, since you’re paying me to be here, in a way,” she says as she grabs a plate. “Your mom seems like she’s doing well. They’re talking about going on a shopping trip to Paris together.”

  “Yeah. They do that sometimes,” I say.

  “Doesn’t she have to attend treatments?” Piper asks, reminding me about the breast cancer story I told her.

  “I’m sure she’ll talk to her doctors before leaving. Either way, she doesn’t like to talk about it with her friends,” I say.

  We finish getting food and finally find our seats. Piper is quiet as she eats. Poor thing, she’s probably starving. I don’t even know if she’s had breakfast.

  At some point during the festivities, the musicians on stage stop playing. The singer grabs the mic and announces, “Someone told me Raphael is going to make a toast. Raphael, are you here?”

  I make my way up to the stage and take the mic from the guy. I clear my throat and begin my speech.

  “You all know my parents as a loving couple. Sure, they have their share of problems, but in the end they’re on the same team.

  “I remember as a kid, I was a little jealous of my friend, Brad—Mom, you may remember him as the kid who broke your blue vase while we were rollerblading inside the house.

  “Anyway, Brad’s parents were divorced. I was jealous because he could always count on at least one parent to give him what he wanted.” I grin as the guests laugh.

  “I couldn’t do that, obviously, because my parents were always such a united front. I see now what a good thing that is, and I’m grateful for the privilege of growing up watching that kind of a relationship as an example,” I say, looking straight at Mom and Dad.

  “Thank you for welcoming Piper, my fiancée, into the family. I hope we’ll be half as happy as you are on our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

  “Get her up there so we can all say hi!” One of Dad’s cousins shouts from a corner of the room, making the other guests turn their heads to find Piper, murmuring amongst themselves about which girl she is.

  Both Mom and Dad maintain close relationships with their extended families, but it’s common for the younger generations to not even be able to recognize one another by sight.

  I guess in that light, it’s not such a strange request. Besides, there’s no getting out of it, now that everybody’s basically playing Where’s Waldo with my fake fiancée.

  “Piper, come up here for a minute, baby.” People follow my gaze and turn to stare. It makes me feel bad to see her discomfort, but it’s not like these people mean her harm. They just want to get to know her. I smile at her and say, “Don’t worry. These people look weird, I know, but they’re not going to bite.”

  That does the trick. I manage to steal the audience’s attention away from Piper as she weaves between the tables and chairs to get to the stage.

  “Say hi to everyone.” I hold the mic up to her mouth.

  “Hi,” Piper says with a sweet, shy smile, lifting her hand to wave to the audience.

  She looks so fucking adorable. It makes me want to pull her into my arms and claim those full lips, maybe even make her pant a little. I can almost imagine her breathing getting heavier and more erratic, the warm exhalation landing on my own lips.

  Then I think… Hey, why not?

  It’s a good stunt to pull in front of an audience, it’s a good way to show my parents how good this “serious relationship” is, and I won’t have a better opportunity than this. I have a good excuse to do it, and she’s not going anywhere.

  There’s a small risk of her getting angry and slapping me instead of returning the kiss. But based on how she’s been behaving around me so far, that’s not likely at all. I can tell she wants me too.

  I just have to give her a small taste, show her how good it could be...

  Piper

  As Raphael gets up on stage, a woman pulls out the chair beside me and plops down. She’s wearing a tight black body-con dress and a pair of thick-framed glasses. She stares at me with a flat expression and says, “So, you’re the fiancée.”

  “Yup,” I say, giving her a polite smile. I’m a little weirded out by the abrupt way she starts the conversation.

  I’ve seen Raphael give a toast at his friend’s wedding, and I know how good he is at capturing people’s attention and telling them a good story. The guests seem to react the way he wants them to—laughing when he makes a joke, getting all mellow when he says something moving.

  Yet, the woman beside me keeps snorting and rolling her eyes throughout Raphael’s speech. I try to ignore her. I don’t even know her, and she hasn’t even told me her name...

  “...I hope we’ll be half as happy as you are on our thirty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Raphael says on stage, his voice amplified by the big, black rectangular speakers all over the room.

  “Ha!” The woman with the glasses exclaims. Leaning closer and touching my arm, she says, “Good luck with that. You know, maybe it’s just me, but cheaters shouldn’t be your role models, right?”

  Before I can answer, I hear my name being mentioned. I snap my attention back to the stage, where Raphael is holding the mic and staring right at me.

  “Piper, come up here for a minute, baby,” he says.

  I look around me. All eyes are on me. My cheeks grow hot as I get up from my chair and feel everyone watching every little movement I make. Is it the spotlight that’s making me feel hot, or am I just being too self-conscious?

  As I get up on the stage and greet the guests, I feel like I’m floating, like I’m in a dream. Everything just doesn’t seem real. The helicopter, the luxurious buildings, the island…

  Raphael tells me to say hi to the audience
, and my knees start to go weak.

  Yes, I’ve performed in front of people a bunch of times, but I’ve always had something between me and them. A guitar, or a piano, to act as a barrier. I know they can see me just the same, but it feels like I’m safer, like they’re focusing on my music.

  Right now, I feel like they’re staring directly at me, and judging me for what I say and do. It’s a lot more intimidating.

  Suddenly, two big, warm hands cup my face. For a random moment, I worry about how that would ruin my makeup. Before I realize what’s happening, Raphael’s lips land on mine.

  And then everything else fades away.

  There’s only Raphael—his hands, his lips, his presence. I close my eyes, my senses overwhelmed by everything that’s going on around me. I can vaguely hear a cheer from the crowd, but it sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away, like it’s just the audio coming from the TV in the next room.

  With my world now dark and quiet, I let myself get lost in the kiss. I hold on to his arms for balance, feeling his hard muscles underneath the shirt he’s wearing.

  Raphael kisses me like a hungry man devouring the only meal he’s had for days. It’s hot, passionate, even almost explosive. I’ve never been kissed like this before.

  And, knowing I’ll probably never see him again after this, I throw myself into it, letting him claim my mouth, even if it’s only pretend.

  I’m still in a daze when Raphael breaks the kiss. He says something to the audience, but I can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying.

  The next thing I know, he takes my hand and leads me down the stage, where I’m safe from prying eyes. Still, something within me wishes I were back on the stage if that means I could get another kiss like that.

  As we take our seats, I touch the diamond ring on my finger, rubbing the metal and the stone.

  That kiss… It didn’t feel fake. It wasn’t the kind of kiss I’d have in front of my own family, but maybe Raphael’s family is more open about public displays of affection.