Come Alive (The Cityscape Series)

by Jessica Hawkins

  But didn’t I? I wanted a place to call home, somewhere that was mine, where I felt safe enough to let go of the past. To stop worrying about how things could disappear or break or end without warning. What he had described sounded like a place to be where I was. In the present. It sounded like a home – a warm, loving home with a steadfast husband and not only a child, but children. Plural.

  “All right,” he said, and I lifted my eyes back to his. He made a show of getting out of his chair. “One glass of champagne to celebrate, but then I really do need to get back to work.”

  ~

  After Bill had gone to bed, I stayed up at the kitchen table, staring into the abyss. I envisioned over and over again the life he had described. Someone else’s life. Dread surfaced in the form of chills over my skin. I had promised those things to Bill in front of everyone we loved years ago. I never knew if I wanted them, but I had promised them forever with two words: I do.

  What scared me most was that I might give him those things because I was supposed to. And had David never come along, I might not have questioned the path I was on.

  Because now, something else was developing inside of me. Maybe there was another way to love. A selfless, open way, where you took the good with the bad and the ugly with the beautiful. A way where, in order to experience bliss, you had to risk pain – you had to risk everything.

  I can’t think of this now, I decided. Tomorrow, with fresh eyes, things will be better. I rose from the table and went to bed.

  ~

  As Bill and I waited for our realtor’s call, things became increasingly stressful. The harder I tried to forget David in that house, the clearer I saw him. Each night after Bill had fallen asleep, I found myself somewhere in the house, staring straight ahead.

  In our bathroom, I had sat against the tub, tormenting myself with the meaningless details of my new life. Like what time I would wake up to catch the train to work. And was there a coffee shop on the way? Would being a mom mean that I’d have to cut my hair shorter? I wondered how to change a diaper, what types of friends I would have in the suburbs, whether or not there was an animal shelter nearby.

  A different night, on the couch with the TV muted, I worried about the bigger things. I wondered if Bill expected me to quit my job, and how had we never discussed that? Or how often Gretchen and Lucy would make the trip to see us, or at what point we should start saving for a college fund . . . or this, or that.

  And David. David. David. There was no night to think of him, because he was always there, telling me there were other options when I just didn’t want to admit that there could be.

  CHAPTER 10

  HE WAS A BLUE-EYED, blond-haired prince in the lobby of Chicago Metropolitan Magazine. A mischievous smile kinked one corner of his mouth, complementing the gleam in his eye. My mouth, on the other hand, hung open as I blinked in disbelief.

  “Olivia Germaine,” he crooned.

  I shook my head as a smile forced its way onto my face. “Greg?”

  “The one and only.”

  Before me stood the Greg, my ex-best friend and legendary breaker of Gretchen’s heart. I took a tentative step forward, and his arms opened for me. My mouth was still agape when we hugged. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He pulled me back by my shoulders and held me at arm’s length. “It’s so good to see you. You look fantastic, even better than I remember. A little thin, but – ”

  “Greg.”

  He slid his hands down my biceps. His eyes, though equally as captivating, were not the same blue as Gretchen’s. They were carefree pools, colored like the sky. “A position with my company opened up here, and I jumped at the chance. I got here a few months ago.”

  “Shit,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “Gretchen is going to flip.”

  “She already knows.”

  “What?” I screeched, and he stepped back. “She knows? She hasn’t said anything to me.”

  He nodded once. “She doesn’t know I came to see you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve started things up again – ”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and grimaced. “Oh my God.”

  “I missed you guys like crazy, Liv. Gretchen – I was stupid to give her up. I want to make things right. I came to Chicago for her.”

  I shook my head rapidly. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She doesn’t think we’re ready. But I just couldn’t wait to see you and Lucy.”

  “A few months, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well that explains why she was dateless to Lucy’s wedding.”

  He nodded. “We fought over that. I wanted to be there, but she refused. She’s worried I won’t stick around.”

  “Oh, Greg,” I said, steepling my hands over my mouth. “Please be careful. If you hurt her again . . .”

  “Was it bad?”

  “Awful. I don’t think she could take it.”

  “I can tell. She’s different – harder or something. But I’m not going anywhere this time. I still love her.”

  “You do?” I asked, dropping a palm to my heart.

  “I do. And you guys, too.” He reached out and touched my cheek. “I’m sorry I left. I never should have. I miss all those late nights in the dining hall, goofing off when we were supposed to be studying for Bio.”

  “I missed you too, but Greg?”

  He dropped his arm. “Yeah.”

  “What makes this time different?”

  “I realize now what we had. Not just me and Gretchen, but all of us. Friendship, love. It’s important. I gave it all up for my career.”

  “For your career?”

  “Yes, Liv. For the job in Japan.”

  “Is that really why? I always thought you left for other reasons. Because you were scared.”

  “No. I went for work. I knew it would hurt her, so I didn’t say anything until it was confirmed.”

  “But now you realize that that was the wrong way to go about it.”

  He flashed me a smile. “Of course. I should have been upfront.”

  “Well, you know I can’t lie to her about seeing you.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  “So, what are you doing? Where are you working?”

  “An accounting firm over on Monroe. I’m close enough that we can have lunch together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “We should take a trip up to Notre Dame this weekend, visit a few of our old haunts.”

  I gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can’t, Greg.”

  “Right,” he said, nodding. “How’s married life? I got your e-mail. Sorry I couldn’t make the wedding.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to reach out.”

  “Bill, right?”

  “Yep. I’m excited for you to meet him.”

  “Gretchen’s got this big work party coming up, we could all go.”

  “That sounds fun,” I said, nodding.

  “I’ll let you get back to work then.”

  “It’s so great to see you,” I whispered as we embraced again.

  He handed me his card. “Anytime you want to grab lunch, dinner, drinks, whatever. Just let me know.”

  I clasped it between my palms. “I will.”

  With a kiss on the cheek, he was gone. Immediately, I ran back to my office to text Gretchen.

  ~

  “Without experiencing a Chicago winter, you cannot call yourself a true Chicagoan.” I paused and stared at the screen as I thought. “What better way to appreciate our city than to endure a Chicago winter?”

  I tore my gaze from the screen when I felt eyes on me.

  “You have impressive powers of concentration.” David’s deep voice resounded through my office, almost as imposing as he himself.

  I fluttered my eyelashes, waiting for him to fade away. When he didn’t, I asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

  He smiled and peeled himself from the doorja
mb. “Not long.”

  I glanced behind him quickly as he crossed the office. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just had my follow-up interview.”

  “Follow-up?”

  “For Most Eligible.”

  “I don’t know anything about it.”

  “With Lisa. She e-mailed me some questions, but,” he paused, a faint smile forming on his face, “I thought it would be more convenient to stop by.”

  “I nixed that idea, but I guess they’re doing it anyway.”

  He leaned long arms on my desk and peered at me. “What’re you working on?”

  “Editing an article. Fifty Things to do in Chicago This Winter. Serious stuff.”

  “There’s enough serious stuff out there already,” he replied.

  His eyes watched me pervasively; they somehow made contact with my skin, roving and probing. My attempt to avoid them was futile as I cleaned my desk off.

  He checked his watch. “Done for the day?”

  “I’m meeting Gretchen for dinner.”

  “Where?”

  “Just over the river.”

  “That’s on my way. I’ll take you.”

  “I was going to walk, actually. It’s a nice evening.”

  His eyes narrowed. “By yourself? It’ll be dark soon.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “Not with me, it isn’t.”

  I looked up at his definitive tone and couldn’t help the smile on my face. “David, I’m a big girl.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he said, ignoring my declaration. He pushed off the desk and waited with his eyebrows raised expectantly. “Can’t I go for a walk with my friend?”

  I shook my head at him and made my way across the office. “Do you always get what you want?” I asked as I shrugged on my jacket.

  “That is yet to be determined.”

  I rolled my eyes but laughed.

  “After you.” He motioned me through the door.

  “David Dylan, I thought I recognized your voice.”

  We turned, and David nodded at my boss, Beman, as he scurried to catch up with us.

  “Mr. Beman,” I started. “I wasn’t aware of a follow-up piece on the Most Eligible feature.”

  “It was a good idea Olivia, and Serena said you turned it down. Tsk, tsk.”

  “Because I think it’s a waste of resources. It’s important to keep things fresh.”

  “Most Eligible draws a large reader base. They become connected with the subjects, interested in knowing more about them. In a way,” he said, smiling playfully at David, “they’re local celebrities.”

  “That may work for the website, but not the publication.”

  “I will keep that in mind.” David held the glass door open for me. “Are you two off together?” Beman asked with a hint of amusement.

  “No,” I squeaked quickly.

  “I see. Good evening, David. Hope to see you around.”

  David only raised his eyebrows and followed me out. “That guy is a piece of work. Do you like working for him?” he asked, punching the ‘Down’ button.

  I shrugged. “Not particularly, but a job’s a job.”

  He only frowned.

  In the elevator, I picked an invisible piece of lint from my shoulder. In the enclosed space, tension mixed with the distinct air David held. It was hard to forget the confusing elevator ride from that night. I remembered my internal battle, knowing it was the moment to stop everything. But I hadn’t. I hadn’t said no, I hadn’t said anything. I almost felt guiltier for that moment than all the things that came after.

  Now, it frustrated me how relaxed he looked. I wanted to shake him, to ask him what he wanted, why he couldn’t just walk away. I wanted to scream at him and kiss him all at once, anything to crack that perfect exterior.

  And then the doors opened, so I did the only logical thing I could and exited the elevator. We crossed the lobby and turned right onto Adams, as though we did that sort of thing every evening.

  “Relax, Olivia.”

  “What?”

  “Relax. Your shoulders are at your ears. We’re just walking.”

  I took a deep breath and released an exhale that deflated my shoulders. He was right; my hands were balled into fists, and I felt the tension in my neck. “I’m sorry, I’m just . . . stressed.”

  “I can tell. Why?”

  “Just things, stupid things.”

  “Such as? Work? Home?”

  “The house, for one. There’s so much to be done, and it just feels like everything is moving so fast.”

  “Moving fast how?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He nodded once, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I do.”

  “Buying a home is a commitment. Bill is making such a big thing of it. Of what it symbolizes.”

  “What does it symbolize?”

  “Our future. It’s like he’s been waiting and waiting for it to start, and now it’s finally here. That’s a lot of pressure. I feel the opposite – like it snuck up on me. One minute I’m twenty-two and graduating college. Suddenly, I’m almost thirty, and I’m supposed to be this other person. An adult, a wife, a homeowner, a mother.”

  “Mother?” he blurted.

  “One day. Isn’t that why people move to the suburbs?”

  “Are you . . .” He paused, swallowing. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  I folded my arms into myself as we waited to cross the street. To say yes would be admitting the worst thing possible to the worst person possible. “I met Bill right out of college,” I said carefully. “I was so young. I mean, I don’t know if twenty-five is too young to get married, but maybe it was.”

  When I looked up, the cool expression David normally wore had slid from his face. “What?” I asked.

  “I meant . . .” he paused. His voice was disjointed, as if his throat were constricting. “I meant second thoughts about the house.”

  “Oh,” I breathed in a rush of air, too conscious of the flush creeping up my neck. “No. I was hesitant to move out of the city at first. Maybe I still am. It’s not the house, though.”

  His hand shot out and yanked me back when I stepped off the curb. “Can’t you see there’s a car coming?” he chastised.

  We both looked at his hand on my arm, and he dropped it after a moment. “Continue.”

  I sighed. “I’m boring you. It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not the house, you said. Then what is it?”

  Once I’d made a show of checking for cars, we continued across the street. “I guess I just don’t know when everything happened. I don’t remember choosing this. I knew it would eventually come to this, me on the brink of my life, about to dive in, but I expected to be more ready.”

  “You keep saying that you two are starting your future together. There’s no start to your future. It’s already happening. Finding you should have been the start of his future.”

  “When you say things like that, I can’t tell if you’re being authentic or if you’re just so used to feeding people lines.”

  He laughed, but his smile slipped from his face quickly. “If I had found you first, there would be no waiting. When I looked into your eyes at that theater – ”

  “David,” I admonished quietly, scanning the faces of passersby. His words hit me forcefully, diffusing as much guilt through me as disbelief. If he finished his sentence . . . If I let myself believe him for even a moment . . . I knew I’d fall quickly and painlessly under his spell. “Don’t say those things to me. Save it for your girls.”

  “You don’t have to go through with anything you don’t want to,” he said over me.

  “Yes, I do,” I said resolutely. “We’ve put the offer in. There’s no reason they won’t accept it. And anyway, I want it. I just said I wasn’t quite ready.”

  “It’s just money. Don’t let that get in the way. If you’re not ready, if you don’t want – ”

  “I want it,” I snapped.
>
  A tourist with an upward-pointing camera momentarily split us apart. My gaze spanned the city around us. I wondered why he didn’t just leave me right there on the sidewalk. I sighed and looked over at him in the falling dusk, noting how powerful he seemed with the steely buildings as his backdrop. As if, with a snap of his fingers, Chicago would bow at his feet and heed his commands.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked in a disarmingly gentle tone.

  “That the city looks different depending on who I’m seeing it with.”

  He nodded easily, as if this same thought had occurred to him.

  “I notice different things,” I continued. “Like with you, I pay more attention to the details of the buildings – the textures, the colors, the people standing in front of them. The reflections are different.”

  “Reflections?” he mused.

  “They just are.” I watched our bodies morph and distort in the window of an empty bank. “You’re there,” I said quietly. “That’s how they’re different.”

  I wanted to ask him why he was walking with me after he had told me he couldn’t fuck me again. Didn’t he know it was impossible for us to be anything other than what we had been that night? A sweeping and powerful force of passion and insatiable hunger?

  Without missing a step and still looking ahead, he touched me. “Relax,” he instructed.

  My muscles melted under his hand. He removed it once my shoulders were back in place, but the warmth lingered. “Clearly I need a vacation,” I joked.

  “Where would you go?”

  “I’m not being serious.”

  “But why not?”

  I made a face.

  “Don’t you ever travel? Everyone likes to vacation.”

  “Not Bill.”

  “I remember. So what?”

  “So maybe I don’t like to either.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Vacation is always, like, idealized. It becomes something huge in your mind, like all the other days in the year are leading up to this one week. You’re going to dine grandly and spend hours in the sun forgetting that you have a real life. You’re going make love sweetly – maybe on the beach, maybe under the stars or by candlelight. But those things don’t happen. Your flight is delayed. You spend the next three days in a state of permanent jetlag. You never remember the sun being as strong as it is. You eat too much and – and you have to undo the top button of your jeans.”