About That Night

by Natalie Ward

  “But how could I not know, Em?” I ask. “She was my twin sister. I should’ve known, should’ve been able to tell she was thinking about it.”

  “Nick,” Emma says gently. “Don’t do this,” she adds. “Don’t blame yourself because you couldn’t see what things were like for her.”

  “She’d already tried it once,” I say, knowing Emma knows this. “She pretended it was an accident,” I add. “That she never meant to take that many pills and I fucking believed her.”

  “Of course you did,” she says, her fingers brushing over my arm. “No one ever wants to think that someone is in that much pain that suicide is the only way out for them. But you can’t blame yourself for that, just like you can’t blame her for doing what she did either.”

  My eyes close, remembering back to Adrian’s office earlier. I’ve never really thought about whether I blamed Amy for any of this. How could I after everything that had happened to her? Everything I’d done?

  But the more Adrian pushed, the more I started to realise that some of this anger and guilt I carried around with me was directed at her. As shitty as that realisation was, it didn’t change the fact that it was true either.

  Yes, I blamed her for leaving me. But I also blamed her for the fact that I blamed myself because I wasn’t able to save her.

  “I never thought I did,” I eventually say, glancing down at the tattoo on my arm.

  “And now?”

  I look up, see Emma watching me, concern in her eyes. “Maybe a part of me does,” I whisper.

  Emma nods, relief washing over her. Her fingers slide over my forearm, tracing the ink that’s tattooed into my skin. “You’re allowed to be angry at her, Nick,” she whispers. “But you need to forgive her too.”

  “I know,” I say, swallowing hard. “I know I do.”

  She leans in to kiss me now and I slide a hand into her hair, holding her too me as I kiss her once, twice, three times.

  “You’re allowed to forgive yourself too, you know,” she says, brushing her fingers across my cheek. I shrug, knowing that’s a lot easier said than done. “This will get easier,” she whispers, resting her forehead against mine. “I know you don’t believe that, but I promise you, with time, it will get easier.”

  It feels strange to want to believe in these words she’s telling me. To ever think there will come a time when I do forgive myself for everything that happened. As it stands, there are just so many ‘what if’ moments that I know I could’ve done differently, that would’ve changed how everything turned out. It feels wrong to just accept that they happened and to let all of them go. I’ve always felt like I needed to be reminded of it, that I deserved to remember how much I fucked things up.

  It’s why I got the tattoo in the first place and why I’ve never been able to let any of it go despite the fact that I never talk about what happened.

  “Maybe I should get rid of it.”

  “What?” she asks, pulling back.

  My eyes flick to my arm, then back to her. “The tattoo.”

  Now it’s Emma’s eyes that turn to my arm. I watch as she moves her fingers gently over it, almost as though she’s caressing it. Tiny shivers move through my skin, following the path of the ink up and over my shoulder and straight to my heart.

  “I don’t know,” she says, her eyes still on my arm.

  I tuck her hair behind her ear, watching her as she stares at my arm, her fingers still tracing the lines. “You don’t think I should?”

  Emma looks back at me, her bottom lip between her teeth. She shrugs, places a hand against my chest. “It’s a part of you,” she says. “I get why you got it, but I’d get why you’d want to remove it too.”

  I stare back at her, wondering how despite my many fuck ups, that we somehow managed to find each other in all of this. How a woman like her could walk into my bar and find a way into my life, just like Amy once told me she would.

  As shit as everything has been these past few months, I honestly can’t imagine my life without Emma in it. It’s why I’ve needed her to stay, why I want her to stay forever.

  I don’t ever want to lose her.

  “You don’t need to decide tonight,” she says. “Think about it for a while.”

  “I love you.”

  I watch as surprise crosses her face now, a tiny blush creeping up her cheeks as she smiles, almost shyly at me.

  “I’ve loved you from the second you walked into my life, Emma,” I tell her. “And I’ll love you for the rest of it.”

  Now it’s Emma who’s crying. She’s smiling though, even as silent tears fall down her cheeks. I lean in, kiss them away before brushing my lips against hers.

  “I love you.”

  About Seven Months After That Night…

  ~ Emma

  I notice the difference as soon as I walk into the apartment. It’s partly due to the music that’s playing and partly due to the amazing smells coming from the kitchen. But as I walk into the room, I can see it’s more than that.

  It’s the peace that seems to have settled over this place in the last week or so. A peace, and some sort of easy calmness, that’s been missing from here these past few months.

  “Hey,” Nick says, smiling as he leans and gives me a long kiss.

  That’s new too.

  Not just the genuine smile, but also the kiss that he initiates, the kiss that isn’t an apology or a diversion or a way to stop me from asking questions.

  “You hungry?” he asks, handing me a bowl of pasta.

  “Starving,” I reply.

  “Good,” he says, smiling back at me. “Let’s eat.”

  He leads me to the couch, where we sit facing each other. I kick off my shoes and tuck my feet beneath me.

  I notice the open bottle of wine, the two glasses and the flickering candles that all sit on the coffee table. This doesn’t just feel new, this feels like turning a corner.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  I turn back and find him watching me, a small smile on his face. “How was yours?” I ask.

  Nick laughs. “Good, but tell me about yours first.”

  So I do. Because even though he used to ask me this as a diversion to all the things he didn’t want to talk about, I soon realised it was actually helping me too. I’d always thought I was protecting myself by not talking about my day and all the shit I’d had to witness, but after these past few months I now realise that talking about it is actually a good thing.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from everything I’ve watched Nick go through, it’s that keeping things bottled up inside is not a good move. But it’s one thing to know it and quite another to do it and so as hard as it is at times, I always tell him.

  Still, I know that it works. I’ve not only seen it work for him, I can feel it working for me too. Because when I tell him about my day, the good and the bad, I can feel something amazing start to happen. I leave work behind. I feel myself switching off, closing the door on my day and focusing on being here, with him.

  It’s also allowed me to open up to him about other things too. Like the random night Jason and I once shared long before I ever met Nick. The night that we both immediately knew was a mistake and which never went any further. He’d taken it better than I thought he would, even admitting to me the drunken kiss he’d tried to give Amy that week he crashed on her couch.

  We talked more about his sister Amy too. Not just about what happened to her, but me looking up her file, Nick disappearing like he did.

  I think it helped that both of us had made mistakes, but I knew the trust that came from admitting them is what helped us both get past it all. I knew it strengthened the trust we have for each other now too.

  I know it’s not always going to be this easy, that me telling him about my day isn’t somehow going to be a quick way to fix all the stuff I’ve had to witness or that the pain of what happened to Amy isn’t going to haunt him again. But it does help, and for now, it’s enough.

&nb
sp; By the time I’ve finished talking, we’ve both finished eating. Nick takes my bowl, but only to put it on the coffee table and hand me some wine. I take the glass, having a small sip before I turn things back on him.

  “So, tell me about your day.”

  Nick smiles. “It was good.”

  I watch him, see the peace that still surrounds him, and for the first time in a long time, I truly believe he means it. “What did you do?” I ask.

  Nick shrugs. “Cleaned up around here,” he says. “Went and saw Adrian and then did some stuff downstairs with Tony.”

  I study him, searching for more. “You seem…I don’t know…different tonight?”

  Nick laughs now. “I do?”

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Better?” I cautiously suggest.

  He laughs again, sliding closer on the couch as he rests his arm along the back, his fingers brushing against my neck. “I feel better.”

  “Really?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise in my voice.

  It’s not that I didn’t think he’d ever get better. He has been. I’d just always had to remind myself it would take time, that it wouldn’t happen overnight.

  “I know it’s going to take a while,” Nick says, seemingly reading my mind. “And I know some days are going to be worse than others. But honestly, Em, I feel like I’m finally getting there, you know. That maybe one day, none of this will be as painful as it used to be.”

  “I’m really glad,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his knuckles. I believe him on this too, because I know now, how badly he wants to get to that point.

  Nick smiles. “Something I did do today,” he says a little nervously, “is advertise for a new chef.”

  “What, really?” I ask, surprised. I wasn’t sure he’d ever get to this point.

  He nods. “Yes, really.”

  I stare back at him, unsure what to say because although this is a huge thing for him, maybe one of the biggest things, I don’t want to make too much of it. I don’t want to scare him off or change his mind about it.

  “You know,” he says, sliding closer. “This is all because of you, Em.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re the one doing all the work,” I say, knowing his weekly chat with Adrian is what’s getting him this far. Not me.

  “Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “You, Emma. You are what saved me.”

  I want to tell him he’s wrong. That I did nothing but reopen an old wound that I know he was trying to heal, even if he wasn’t getting very far or doing it the right way.

  But I can’t say anything because he’s kissing me again. And he’s kissing me in a way that he hasn’t done in a very long time.

  And I don’t want to change his mind about this either.

  ~ Nick

  We fall back onto the couch, my body covering hers.

  She’s right, because this is different; we are different. And it’s not even different in a way that takes us back to when we first got together. It’s like something completely new, born from a darker place we both had to go to, but one that’s only strengthened all the things I feel about her and the connection we share.

  I slide my arms beneath her, wrapping them around her and pulling her closer. “That night, Em,” I whisper, lifting my head so I can meet her eyes. “Meeting you that night, is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Emma smiles, closes the distance between us and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Best thing that’s happened to me too,” she whispers against my mouth and I know, despite all the heartache and pain that came after that night, I would never in a million years ever want to take back meeting her.

  I deepen the kiss as I tighten my arms around her. I feel her hands slide under my t-shirt, smoothing their way up my back. It sends ripples of heat down my spine, my whole body surging with desire. I want to pull her up and take her to the bedroom, but I don’t, unable to break this connection, even for a second.

  I kiss a path across her jaw, nibbling at her neck. “I love you,” I whisper against her skin. “Never forget that.”

  I can feel her smile as she buries her face against my neck. Her hands tug at my t-shirt, lifting it and I pull back so she can take it off. She throws it over the couch, her hands on my jeans next, undoing them. I grin against her mouth as that desire only grows.

  When she finally gets my jeans undone, she pushes them down my hips, using her feet to get them off. I roll to the side, taking her with me as my hands now start peeling off her clothes.

  “Nick,” she murmurs and it sounds so incredibly sexy.

  My mouth finds hers again and we kiss with a hunger that I’ve never felt before. Everything about this moment, this connection, all the things I feel for her, feels so incredibly intense, so much better than before.

  I move her beneath me again as Emma’s hands slide down my back, pushing me against her. I lift my hips and slide inside her, watching her as I do.

  She groans, her whole body arching beneath me and it’s such an incredible turn on that I have to stop, just so I don’t lose it.

  “God, you feel so good,” I whisper, lowering my mouth to hers again.

  I kiss her as I slowly start to move. I feel Emma’s arms now wrap around me and I mirror the move, sliding my arms under her back again.

  We are as close as we can possibly get, not an inch of space between our skin, yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.

  “Nick,” she whispers.

  My eyes open as I pull back a little, watch her beneath me. She opens her eyes, brushes a hand against my cheek. “More,” she whispers, as though she too can feel this connection we have, can sense the change like I do.

  I see the want in her eyes, the desire and the need. It sends a surge of lust through me, and I move a little faster, a little harder above her. She moans now, her eyes closing again as her body moves against mine, pushing against me. Her skin is hot, her fingers digging into my skin.

  I don’t know how long we move together like this, but several times I have to fight to hold on, to stay in control so I can make it last longer. Eventually though, I can’t, and as Emma groans again, I finally lose it, practically growling her name as my body completely shatters against hers.

  I collapse against her, both of us breathing hard. My head is spinning and my skin feels like it’s on fire. Neither of us says anything, our bodies still tangled together, still connected in every way.

  “That was amazing,” she eventually whispers, nuzzling against my skin.

  I feel her bite my neck and I hear myself groan as my body responds, not even close to being done despite everything we’ve just shared. “God, I can’t get enough of you, Emma,” I whisper, lifting my head so I can look at her.

  She smiles up at me. “Good,” she says as she pulls my mouth back to hers and I show her exactly what I mean.

  About Eight Months After That Night…

  ~ Emma

  The alarm sounds, pulling me from sleep. Groaning, I reach over to switch it off just as his arm slides around my waist, pulling me against him because he knows I’m about to leave.

  “Stay,” he whispers, his lips at my shoulder.

  “I have to get up,” I murmur, even as my head falls back against the pillow.

  “Thirty minutes,” he says, kissing his way across my collarbone.

  My eyes close. “I don’t have time.”

  “Twenty?”

  I smile. “I really have to go.”

  “Fifteen then,” he suggests, his lips on my throat now.

  It’s getting close and I know the second he reaches my mouth, I’m going to lose.

  “You should go back to sleep,” I murmur, half-heartedly trying to push him away. “You got in really late.”

  “Shhh,” he says, brushing my mouth with his. “Busy.”

  I sigh; my arms sliding around his waist as his body rolls onto mine, knowing he’s won.

  Again.

&
nbsp; The smile against my lips just before he kisses me tells me that he knows he has too.

  ~ Nick

  It’s after noon by the time I finally wake up. The apartment is quiet; the only noise that of the street as it filters its way up to the open window of the bedroom. I can feel the sun slanting through, warming the room, but keep my eyes closed, my thoughts lingering on the first time I woke up today.

  I smile, remembering the bullshit fight she tried to put up after the alarm had gone off. Then the warmth of her skin against mine, the way her body gave into me, almost as though we were both fighting her brain and convincing her to stay.

  I knew she would though, just like I knew she often set her alarm earlier now to allow for things like this morning. To make time in our crazy schedules for us.

  I roll over, feel the coolness of the sheets beside me, even as the smell of her still lingers. I wish she were still here, my body already betraying me even though I know she’s long gone.

  Groaning, I force my eyes open, smile at the now long cold coffee she’s left on the side table for me. She’d probably still drink it, caring more about the caffeine hit than any taste or enjoyment she gets when she has to get up early.

  I drag myself from bed, smiling at Oscar, who has made himself at home in a box of Emma’s clothes that she still hasn’t managed to unpack. Probably won’t now that he’s occupying it.

  I walk into the kitchen to make some fresh coffee before taking it with me and jumping in the shower. Today I shave off the last few days worth of stubble before picking up the clothes that litter the floor of our bathroom. It makes me smile, knowing how much she fights the messy side she has. She’d been worried it would drive me crazy when she moved in here when all I’d been worried about was that she’d say no when I suggested it.

  For weeks she’d been trying to give me back the spare key she’d had ever since I’d lost my shit and walked out on her. I’d gotten sick of her offering it back to me and me telling her to keep it. In the end I’d said, “Emma, I don’t ever want the key back. I want you to keep it and I want it to be your only key.”