by Hazel Kelly
“He said the trail went cold when he found out they’d put you in witness protection.”
“That’s the idea,” I said, afraid to say anything that might expose his father’s lies.
“To be honest, I’m relieved you’re alive.”
That makes one of us.
“I was worried that maybe whoever killed your dad…” He looked down for a second before raising his eyes again. “I’m so sorry, by the way.”
I swallowed.
“About what happened to him.”
You wouldn’t be if you knew the truth. “Thanks.”
“I have a lot of guilt over the fact that I wasn’t there for you after that happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I knew you would’ve been if—” A lump rose in my throat at the memory of how he stood by me after my mom’s death, how he let me break down in his arms over and over again. “I knew, okay?”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t send me anything. Even an unsigned postcard. Something to let me know you were okay.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks, and I offered him a smile before turning back to Sebastian, whose dark eyes were still fixed on me.
“I’m sorry.” I slid my glass closer. “I just couldn’t.”
I could tell by his body language that he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch my face, to pull me close. But I was afraid of all of those things. My survival relied on my ability to maintain a certain degree of numbness, on my ability to shun complicated emotions like the ones he stirred in me.
“I forgive you,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I never believed you wanted to hurt me on purpose.”
I reached forward and touched his knee. He was solid, warm, alive. Just like I remembered. Pure goodness wrapped in the most handsome package I’d ever seen. I stared down at my hand on his knee and then lifted my eyes to his. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Anything you want.”
I smiled and pulled my hand back.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Give me three choices.”
His face lifted. He remembered. I used to be so indecisive I infuriated even myself. Now I made decisions all the time like it was nothing, like you have to when you have no one else to consult. But back then I could always ask him. Where will we get dinner? Three choices. What movie will we see? Three choices. Where should I kiss you next? Three choices.
And the thing I loved most about him was that he never gave me bad choices. He only ever offered the best three, and I had to pick one. That was the deal. But it was easy because his company was always built into every choice.
He crossed his arms and wrapped a broad hand around his chin.
“I’m waiting,” I said. Because that was part of the game, too. To pretend that he was the one holding us up, when it was always me.
“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat and tilting his head back to shift some chunks of dark hair away from his face.
I straightened up.
“Your choices are: we can talk about what you’re doing for work these days, since—last I checked—you’re not still working at Petey’s Pizza.”
One corner of my mouth curled up. “I hope you got pizza when you checked.”
“Of course. You know I can’t say no to a slice of spicy pepperoni.”
“Who can?”
“You can tell me how Paige is doing,” he said. “Since I always liked her best.”
I nodded. “Most people do.”
“Or,” he continued, his dark eyes flashing at me. “You can tell me how you’ve managed to become even more stunning than I remember. Because I swear to God you were the prettiest girl that ever lived, and it doesn’t seem fair that you should get to be the prettiest woman, too.”
E I G H T
- Sebastian -
Her cheeks blushed a deep pink.
“So what’ll it be?”
“Paige remembers you,” she said, her eyes softening.
I smiled. “I should hope so. How is she?”
“Great. She’s living in a care facility not far from here.”
“Has there been any change in her condition?”
Lily’s soft curls swayed behind her as she shook her head. “She still doesn’t remember anything after the crash. Not for more than a few minutes anyway.”
“Forever thirteen.”
“For better or for worse.”
I wanted to ask if Paige understood that her parents were dead, but I was reluctant to be a downer. “Tell Paige I said hi next time you see her. Tell her I miss doing our Kermit and Miss Piggy impressions.”
She laughed and her bright teeth glowed in the dim light. “You could tell her yourself.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” She shook her head like she’d let herself down before taking a long sip of her gin and tonic.
“Not so fast. If you slam that, you’ll have to stay for two. It’s only fair.”
“Two will never be enough,” she said quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“So…you obviously didn’t become a cop.”
I turned an ear towards her. “Why do you say that?”
“Because of the suit you were wearing on Friday.”
“You got me,” I said. “I’m a trader.”
“No you’re not.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“You wanted to be a cop. That’s a ridiculous leap.”
I shrugged. “I gambled my savings on stocks and made a profit.”
Her eyes grew wide, revealing the stray fleck of blue in the corner of her right eye. “No kidding?”
“It started as a hobby.”
“When did you get serious about it?”
I clenched my jaw.
“You don’t have to tell me—”
I raised a palm. “No. It’s okay.”
She licked her lips, and they shone back at me.
“My brother lost his legs in Iraq a few years ago.”
Her hand covered her mouth.
“He’s fine, though. Honestly. Just as big of a jackass as ever.”
“Jesus, Sebastian. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “He’s not sitting around feeling sorry for himself, anyway.”
“What is he doing?”
“He works at the police station, married his high school sweetheart, and became a father last January.”
Her eyes sparkled.
“But his accident is why I dropped out of the police academy.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“After seeing what my mom went through while he was serving—on top of what she went through worrying about my dad all those years he was on patrol—I decided not dying on her was the least I could do.”
She blinked at me.
“Don’t get me wrong, my dad and brother are my greatest heroes, but I don’t think honor is a big enough reward for the sacrifices they’ve made.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That’s a brave thing you did,” she said. “Breaking tradition like that.”
I shook my head. “Brave is serving the way my brother did. Or the way my dad did.” I took a gulp of my gin. “There’s nothing brave about moving stacks of money around.”
“I disagree. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a mama’s boy.”
I laughed. “I know at least one good woman who would agree with you.”
She raised her glass and clinked it against mine. “To Mama Rod.”
“To Mama Rod,” I repeated, remembering how well they used to get along.
“So you’re an uncle then?”
“Only the best uncle ever.”
The bartender arrived and pointed at our drinks.
I nodded and was relieved when Lily didn’t object.
“What’s the baby’s name?”
“Sebastian.”
Her head flinched forward
. “He named his son after you?”
“My dad was pissed. Said they have to name at least two after him to make up for it.”
“That must have felt good.”
“Best feeling in the world,” I said, my eyes falling to her lips. “Second best, anyway.”
She lifted her drink and turned her head to take a sip.
I watched her neck move as she drank, recalling how I used to buy her candy necklaces so I’d have an excuse to shower it with kisses.
She set her glass down on the shiny bar and caught me staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, realizing I wasn’t fucking over her and didn’t want to be. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Well, you’re too glamorous to be a trader.”
“Not really,” she said, looking down at her dress. “I just have a glamorous roommate.”
“A glamorous roommate who should think twice before she lets you borrow her clothes.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Wait till you see how kind I am after three drinks.”
A sly smile teased her lips.
“Seriously, though. At least tell me who I should be jealous of?”
“Jealous of?” she asked.
“Yeah. Who is it you’re spending time with every day?”
“A bunch of call center workers,” she said. “And students.”
“Students?”
She nodded. “I’m still finishing my degree. It’s taken a little longer for me because of Paige.”
“What are you studying?”
“Guidance and counseling.” She dragged a nail along the edge of her coaster. “So I can work with troubled teens.”
I studied her face.
“I know it’s probably not that interesting.”
“No, it is,” I said, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean to make a face like it wasn’t.”
She cocked her head.
“I was just wondering if you want to tell me about it over tacos?”
N I N E
- Lily -
I never said no to tacos, though how he remembered that was beyond me.
“Still piling on the hot sauce, I see?” he said, his amused eyes flicking up at me.
I poured the red liquid down the side of my tortilla shell to make sure there would be some in every bite. “You know it.”
“My family still talks about the Thanksgiving when you and I had that jalapeño eating contest.”
“You mean the day I became an honorary Mexican?”
He laughed. “That’s the one.”
“How many was it again?” I asked, thinking back. “Five or six I beat you by?”
“Sounds about right.” He eyed his next bite. “Though most people stop when they win.”
“Amateurs. So how did you find this place?”
“On a drunken walk home. Some creep in the street asked me if I’d ever had an underground taco.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I thought he was trying to offer me some kind of weird sex thing.”
I choked a little but managed to keep my mouth shut while I reached for my beer to wash down the scratchy tickle.
“You okay?”
My eyes watered as I nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, one of the guys I was with knew the place, so we caved, and I’ve been coming here ever since.”
“I can understand why,” I said, admiring the sombrero chandeliers and the excessive collection of framed hot sauce pictures.
“Our office lets them cater our parties sometimes.”
“Cool office.”
“No,” he said. “Just a lot of parties.”
“Is it as wild as they say?” I asked, playing dumb.
“For some,” he said, “but I’m a little past it myself.”
“Past what?”
“The money-grubbing women and the coke binges.”
I leaned back. “I can see how that might get old.”
He shrugged. “It’s part of the culture, but I’m kind of looking forward to aging out.”
“Aging out?”
“Yeah. If you survive the scene long enough, you reach a point where you’re no longer expected to go to those events. Or best case, you go for some champagne bottle popping and then head off.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”
“I thought I did,” he said. “Until I ran into you at The Atrium.”
My face fell.
“Now I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Sorry. What I’m trying to say is, I haven’t enjoyed a taco this much in years.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile.
“Please don’t read into that.”
I laughed.
We ate in silence for a few minutes after that, and the break gave me a chance to notice the strange warming sensation that had permeated my chest. It was unusual but not entirely foreign, though it took me a while to figure out what it was.
And then it hit me.
It was fun. I was having fun. Unfaked, unplanned, unreal fun. And it wasn’t forced or difficult or uncomfortable (apart from the throne of lies I was perched on).
I hated lying to him, though. But what choice did I have? I liked the way he looked at me. Like not only was I not for sale, but like I was priceless. The last thing I wanted to do was jeopardize that. Or make him feel like he didn’t know me anymore.
Granted, before we met for drinks, I thought I would be annoyed if he acted like no time had passed, if he acted like he was still the one person who knew me best. But when he did just that, I discovered that I didn’t hate it at all.
What I hated was that no one had made me feel like that in years.
And it was such a load off to feel like I didn’t have to perform or impress. I could simply be crazy, indecisive Lily with her hot sauce addiction. It was incredibly freeing.
But it was also sad. Because I knew it couldn’t last. If we kept seeing each other, he was bound to discover the truth about me eventually, bound to uncover my web of lies, and bound to realize the woman he thought he was falling for didn’t even exist anymore.
I tried to pay the check when I went to the bathroom, but the guy at the counter said it was already taken care of.
“You shouldn’t have,” I said when I made it back to our small round table.
“You shouldn’t have,” he said, rising from his seat and draining the last sip of my beer.
I stared at him. He used to do that every time we went out. He used to sneak sips of my drink and joke that it was his favorite way to secretly kiss me in public.
“What?” he asked, the guilty twinkle in his eye giving him away. He remembered. He remembered everything. And he remembered me, perhaps better than I remembered myself.
The possibility made me feel more grounded than I had in years.
“I guess you owe me a drink,” he said, following me up the narrow staircase back to street level.
“Is that why you picked up the tab?” I asked. “So you could swindle another date out of me?”
“Was this a date?” He put his hand over his crisp shirt, which seemed to have unbuttoned itself once more over dinner. “If I’d known this was a date, I would’ve brought you flowers.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Neither is how smoking hot you are, but look at you doing the damn thing anyway.”
I rolled my eyes and looked away so he wouldn’t see me blush.
“And I hope you don’t feel swindled.” He took my hand and raised it up.
I watched him kiss it gently before the heat of his lips spread through my whole body.
“Because I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said, pulling me closer. “Something tells me you’ve had enough of that.”
I searched his eyes, wondering how much he knew, how much he sensed. Then I licked my lips and
felt my heart squeeze in my chest as I willed him to kiss me.
“Let me take you out next Friday,” he said, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
I blinked at him, my body aching for the first kiss I’d wanted in years.
“On a real date.”
I glanced at his lips and then back up to his eyes, a rush of adrenaline running up my spine as his attention made me breathless. “Okay.”
Then he pressed his cheek to mine, squeezed my hand in his, and this time, it was Sebastian who disappeared.
F L A S H B A C K
- Sebastian -
I wasn’t exactly stalking her. It wasn’t my fault we used the exact same route to and from school.
I was, however, definitely riding my bike slower than usual.
But I couldn’t help myself. I’d never seen a girl shaped like that, much less seen a girl shaped like that walking down the street. And as a fourteen-year-old boy, I found the swing in her hips mesmerizing.
She had a pretty face, too.
I’d been taking long peeks at it from my bedroom window, admiring the way her cheeks flushed when her mom made her carry plants around their backyard. I also noticed that she was easily distracted and would often stop digging to kneel down and watch a bee collecting pollen. That intrigued me as most of the girls I knew screamed if a bee came anywhere near them.
According to my mom, her name was Lily.
She learned that one afternoon when she went over to introduce herself and welcome Lily’s family to the neighborhood with a homemade banana cajeta upside-down cake, her specialty. Under any other circumstance, I would’ve been happy I missed the forced pleasantries, but that was only because there wasn’t normally a goddess involved.
When Lily stopped walking up ahead, I slowed down so much that my bike wobbled, and I had to lower a foot to the ground. I watched her swing her backpack around and reach inside it. She pulled out a notebook, and her hard pencil case came tumbling out.
When she failed to catch it, it popped open on the sidewalk, and her school supplies scattered everywhere.
In that moment, I probably would’ve winked towards the heavens if I’d shared my parents’ faith, but I was already speeding down the street to her side.
She glanced at my shadow in the street when I dropped my bike against the curb.
