Once Upon a Second Chance

by Marian Vere

  “However, when love—real love—finds you, I believe you’ll recognize it instantly. Chris and Bree have gotten something of a hard time about the fact that they got engaged within a month of being introduced. That may seem strange to some of us, but that’s the thing about real love: when you know, you know. When you meet that one special person, somewhere deep inside, your soul recognizes its other half. Somehow you know that you have found the person who will make you happy for the rest of your life, the person who makes you the man or woman you were meant to be. It’s not easy to come by, and it’s easy to be fooled. However, I’ve always believed that the real thing is worth waiting for.”

  Fooled. He thinks he was fooled.

  I am still sitting perfectly still, staring at the empty space beside Nick. The only difference is that now I can’t even blink, because if I do, the tears swimming in my eyes will spill over, and I can’t allow that.

  “Now, as for me,” he continues after a pause, “I’m still waiting. But as someone who is still waiting, I can tell you that Chris and Bree remind me of what exactly it is that I am waiting for. And I think I can speak for everyone here tonight when I say that seeing the two of you—” he turns to face Chris and Bree “—and the love that you so obviously share, gives us all a little more faith in love and a little more hope in that age-old idea of happily ever after. Congratulations, and all the best to you.” He raises his glass; we follow his lead, drink, and applaud. Nick takes his seat, and as soon as discreetly possible, I steal quietly out of the room and lock myself in a bathroom stall.

  After a good fifteen minutes spent blubbering, sniffing, trembling, blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and fixing my makeup, I emerge from the restroom emotionally battered but composed. When I get back to the table, I see my purse and favor have been moved, and my drink and cake, which I hadn’t had a chance to touch, have been cleared away.

  Damn!

  I decide not to sit—as now I have no cake to eat—and mill around the room, looking for someone to occupy my time and mind. At first I worry that my milling could cause a run in with Nick, which I absolutely could not handle at the moment, but relax as I notice he’s nowhere to be found. I see Bree sitting with Jen and Derek, and figure there is no harm in joining them. After all, Jen and Derek are not really guests, therefore, I would not be taking the bride away from her duties as hostess. The four of us talk for over an hour about this and that, occasionally being joined by a passerby or two. Finally, Chris takes Bree away so they can say good-bye to the guests who are starting to leave for the night.

  I wander back over to my table, planning to head home myself—a sad thought on a Friday night. I grab my favor and my bag, but for some reason my bag won’t close. I look in to see what is blocking the latch, and pull out a folded menu card. I open it up and find writing on the back.

  Julia,

  I was planning to speak with you tomorrow, but after what I heard you say to Cathy tonight, I can’t wait. Men forget? Men move on? I’ll admit I’ve been a lot of things: mad, resentful, bitter, even vengeful. But I have never forgotten, and I have never moved on. God knows I’ve tried. I meant every word I said tonight. I am still waiting, waiting for you.

  I love you, Jules. I have never stopped loving you. My heart is more yours now than it ever was, and I only pray that what we had isn’t lost forever. I am going out to the garden and I’ll wait for you until nine. If you don’t want me the way I do you, you don’t have to explain or apologize. Just don’t come out. If I don’t see you by nine, I’ll have my answer.

  Always yours,

  Nick

  I stare at the letter, not blinking, not breathing, totally motionless.

  This can’t be…

  I read it again.

  Could he really…

  I read it again.

  He loves me…

  He loves me!

  I am suddenly lighter than air and smiling uncontrollably. He loves me! He still loves me! After everything! After what I did, he still loves me! Part of me is worried I will wake up any minute and this will all be a dream, but the rest of me doesn’t care. I jump up and grab my wrap, ready to run outside. Ready to throw my arms around him and never let go. Ready to—

  I stop short. What time is it? I grab my phone out of my bag and flip it open.

  9:11 p.m.

  Oh no…

  I bolt out of the room, leaving everything behind. I run through the restaurant, looking for the doors leading out to the garden. Finally finding them, I throw one open, stumble out into the cold night air, and see…

  …no one.

  17

  “NICK?”

  The garden is silent.

  He’s gone.

  “…I’ll have my answer.”

  He thinks I’ve thrown him and his love aside—again—and has left.

  I sink down onto an ice cold stone bench next to the empty basin of what, in better weather, would be a pond and fountain. I stare at the ground around my feet, tears running down my face.

  Well, I’m here—in a garden, hopeless and crying. It really is perfect. Sure it’s the dead of winter and I am freezing, but doesn’t that just add to the overall atmosphere? So what is she waiting for? Isn’t this the point where my fairy godmother finally shows up and saves me? Come on, this is her chance to fix everything she let me down on eight years ago. She could magically bring Nick back, or even something as stupid and unromantic as telling me, “Oh, he’s still here, he just had to run to the bathroom. He’ll be right back.” That would be fine. I’m not picky.

  For an insane moment I actually look around, expecting a grandma with wings, or even the condescending creepy godmother from my dream, to show up. But of course there is no one. The world doesn’t work like that. No one is going to hand you everything you need to be happy. That’s the real appeal of a fairy godmother anyway—not having to take any risks. Cinderella had it all handed to her, and then after the clock struck twelve and she was on her own, what did she do? Did she march up to the castle in her rags and lay it all on the line, hoping the prince would still love her in the plain light of day? No. She ran home and hid. She made the prince come to her. She took the easy road, and it worked out for her because it’s a fairy tale. In real life, there is no happiness without risk.

  Nick had taken the leap. He’d laid everything inside him out for me to see—something I don’t think I would ever have had the courage to do—and he did it with nothing more than the small hope that I would return his feelings and make it all worthwhile.

  And I had let him down.

  He took the risk that I couldn’t bring myself to take.

  And now it’s too late.

  Too late?

  Out of nowhere, a fire sparks somewhere deep in my chest and I’m gripped by a sudden burst of determination. No. It’s not too late. It may be too late for us, but it’s never too late for the truth. Nick was able to lay it all on the line, and I’ll never be able to live with myself if I don’t do the same. This isn’t some imaginary fairy godmother’s chance to fix my life—it’s mine. If I have to live the rest of my life without him, I can have the one small comfort of knowing I did everything that I could. I can’t let this chance go.

  I won’t.

  I jump up and make my way back to the rehearsal room as fast as I’m able on my frozen toes. There are only a few people left, and I scan the room, praying Derek hasn’t left yet. I see him at one of the tables, collecting the leftover favors.

  “Derek,” I pant as I reach him. “Do you know where Nick is staying tonight?”

  “He’s over at the Waldorf. We all are. Figured it’d be easier that way—”

  “Thanks!” I cut him off and run for my wrap and purse. I know he is probably confused, but I don’t have time to worry about that. Nor do I have time to fuss with my boots, which I leave under the table. Someone will find them, and if not, who cares. I dart out of the restaurant without saying good-bye to anyone, and frantically look for a cab going t
he right way. The Waldorf isn’t far, but a taxi would still be much faster than running in heels and a dress. After an eternity, I flag one down.

  “The Waldorf Astoria, please,” I tell the driver as I fling myself into the cab.

  He pulls out without a word, and I lean back on the seat, taking a minute to pull myself together. By the time we turn onto Park Avenue, I’ve caught my breath for the most part, but my heart is still pounding. We make it to the hotel, but get stuck in a line of vehicles waiting to drop off or pick up at the main entrance.

  “This is fine, thanks,” I say, throwing a twenty over the seat to him, and hop out onto the street. I slip and slide my way over the slush to the salted sidewalk. Once there, I straighten my shoulders and attempt to muster some grace. It’d be best not to run like a mad woman into a world-class hotel.

  The doorman greets me, and I make my way inside and up the steps to the main lobby.

  When I reach the center of the marble floor however, I hesitate. What the hell am I doing? I have absolutely no plan—not that any have worked so far. I don’t know what room he’s in, and even if I did, there is a good chance I need a room key to even operate the elevators to his floor. I stand motionless, staring into space as I figure out what to do. I see the check-in counter, and realize I should start there.

  There is a small line, but that’s okay; it gives me time to come up with a story. Odds are, I can’t just walk up to the woman and ask for someone’s room number, so I am going to have to come up with something clever enough to get me in without getting me caught and thrown out. After all, there is a wedding here tomorrow that I am very much a part of, and I don’t want to get myself blacklisted from the hotel. Maybe I can say I am with him and I lost my room key. No, if that were true, I would know the room number. Okay, maybe I am here to surprise him. Girlfriends and wives surely do that sort of stuff all the time. I could say I’m his…girlfriend? No, wife is probably less suspicious. Wait, but then they might want to see ID. Maybe I could say I didn’t change my name. Or I could say—

  “Can I help you?” Wow, that was a fast line. I snap my head up to see a short, middle-aged woman with a warm smile and thick glasses looking at me. Her nametag says “Mary.”

  “Yes.” I throw on my best smile. “Sorry. I wonder if you could help me. Can you tell me what room my husband is in?”

  Wow, that was good. I didn’t stutter or anything!

  “Certainly, what is the name?”

  Yes!

  “Nicholas Kerkley.”

  “Yes, here he is…Oh.”

  Uh oh.

  “He doesn’t seem to have anyone listed in the room with him.”

  “No, he doesn’t know I’m here,” I try, still smiling. “I want to surprise him.”

  “Oh, how nice.” Despite her smile, her eyes tell me I’m out of luck. “Well, you are going to have to have him come down to meet you, as I can’t issue room numbers or keys to anyone not listed as a guest. I’m sorry.”

  My heart sinks to my knees. “It’s fine, I understand.”

  “Why don’t I call his room for you and see if he is there?”

  “No, that’s…” Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. He might not even be here. “Actually yes, could you? But just to see if he is there. Don’t say anything about me.” She picks up the phone and dials. My hands start to shake as I wait to hear a voice on the other end.

  After a moment, she hangs up. “I’m sorry, there was no answer.”

  “That’s all right, thanks for trying,” I say.

  My deflated disappointment must be clear on my face, because she reaches out and sympathetically pats my hand. “I’m sorry, dear,” she says again. “Do you know where he might have gone? I could call you a cab.”

  “No,” I sigh, “I have no idea where he is.” He could be anywhere. I could go back to the restaurant and see if I’d missed him. That’s a place to start anyway. “I just have to go look for him,” I say, trying to be nonchalant. The concerned look on the receptionist’s face, however, tells me that she can see this is a bit more serious than simply a “surprise my husband” visit.

  “Go out and look for him? But you have no idea where he is. This is a big city, my dear.”

  “I don’t know what else to do.” I try stop my lip from trembling.

  “I’ve always found,” Mary says, leaning toward me and resting her arms on the counter, “that when I’m not sure what to do, it always helps to go back to what you know. You know he is staying here, which means he has to come back eventually. Why not wait for him? That has to be a better plan than trying to chase him down in one of the most populated cities in the world.”

  She’s right I know, but I still can’t seem to move.

  “Why don’t you try Sir Harry’s,” she says, pointing to the doors of a bar just off the lobby. “It’s quiet, and you could have a drink and relax for a few minutes. Collect yourself a bit. Don’t take this the wrong way—” she smiles “—but you’re a mess.”

  I take a deep breath and realize she’s right. “Thank you.” I turn slowly toward the doors she referred to.

  “Good luck, dear,” Mary calls behind me.

  As I make my way across the lobby, the idea of a drink sounds better and better. I know I have sworn off all alcohol in public places, but my hands are still shaking, and if I am going to sit here for God knows how long, I’m going to need something. When I step inside, I see Mary was right; it is quiet. Not nearly as crowded as I would have expected it to be for a Friday night. I look over to the long wooden bar, and my heart stops.

  There, sitting alone at the end of the bar, is Nick.

  My stomach turns over. He’s facing away from me, hunched over, elbow on the bar, head in his hand, while the other hand holds a near-empty glass. He looks so wretched and broken that it tears my heart to shreds. Worst of all, I know that, once again, his pain is because of me.

  I want to go to him but I can’t move. After my frenzied rush of the last twenty minutes, I’m stuck to the floor and utterly speechless. What do I say? I’m sorry? That seems incredibly inadequate. I love you? He probably doesn’t want to hear it anymore.

  Without a conscious command, my feet slowly propel me forward. When I’m close, I hear the whisper of a voice I almost don’t recognize to be my own.

  “Nick?”

  He turns suddenly, seeing me there for the first time. His eyes widen in shock.

  “I’m sorry,” I squeak out over the lump in my throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know until after…I came right away, but you were gone. I was sitting with Bree, and we were all talking…” He stands and slowly closes the space between us, but I can’t stop rambling. “The waiter moved my purse, and I didn’t see it until after…I wouldn’t ha—”

  I’m silenced by his lips crashing into mine. The entire world melts away as Nick wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. I have never in my life felt anything like this kiss. It is so full of love and longing that I don’t think I can handle it. Eight years, eight long years, I have waited for this kiss, and it’s everything I remembered and more.

  I tremble, terrified this isn’t real, that I will wake up any minute now to find I fell asleep on an armchair out in the lobby. But the terror can’t hold a candle to the overwhelming joy that threatens to carry me away.

  All too soon he releases me and takes a half step back. Without a word, he slides his hand down my arm, laces his fingers through mine, and leads me out of the bar and to the elevators in the lobby. We manage to get one all to ourselves, and as soon as the doors close behind us, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me again—hard. My entire body feels like it’s filled with champagne, bubbling and tingling under my skin, just waiting to explode. We kiss all the way to his floor, almost forgetting to breathe. Just before the doors open, we pause, gasping for air.

  “I love you,” he says against my lips. There’s a catch in his voice, and I wonder if he’s as close to tears as I am.

  “I love
you too,” I answer, still struggling for breath.

  He takes my hand again and leads me down the hall. The door to his room isn’t even shut behind us before I’m in his arms again. If I thought the ride in the elevator was passionate—I had no idea. Now behind closed doors, our kisses grow more and more possessive, and begin to travel beyond our lips to cover our necks, chests, and anything else within reach. His hands work their way through my hair, letting it fall down around my shoulders. A few moments later he lays me back on the bed, and I realize that we’re both completely undressed. I have no idea how that happened.

  As we melt into one another, it’s so much more than just sex. Maybe it’s the fact that we have gone so long without each other, or maybe it’s a consequence of the intense emotions we’ve both had to cope with this evening; I don’t know for sure. All I do know is that I’ve never in my life even imagined feeling the way I do now. There is more fervor, love, and passion pouring out of me than I knew I was capable of. My soul had been starving for almost a decade, yet I hadn’t realized how much I had been missing—how much I had given up. Now that I have it back, I can barely believe I’ve lived so long without it.

  We don’t speak because there is no need. We just love, on and on, until every shadow of the last eight years is swept away, leaving us both floating somewhere in heaven. Minutes or hours later, while we are both still breathlessly recovering, Nick rolls to his side and pulls me against him. His arms wrap around me so tightly it nearly hurts—not that I would ever dream of complaining, or moving an inch. I lay against him, lost in happiness, breathing in his familiar scent, until I slip into the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years.

  18

  I WAKE UP SLOWLY in a dark, unfamiliar room. The clock by the bed says 12:17, and I can distinctly feel someone lying behind me, and an arm draped over my side. Memories and images of a dream start to flood back to me. A dream about Nick, and Bree’s rehearsal dinner, and a letter, and the Waldorf…