Unwritten

by Kiki Hamilton

  “Bad breakup?”

  I don’t know why I told him, but I did. All of the sordid details: from the break-up, to the pregnancy, to the phone calls over the last year, to the reality of Ryan and his son being back in my life. I even told him about the child who I wanted to despise but couldn’t.

  “It’s a confusing situation,” I said, which was like saying the theory of relativity was about time and space.

  Oliver’s warm fingers slid over mine and clasped my hand. “Alexis.” There was something in his voice, in his touch, that made me feel secure. Reassured. Courageous. “I know what you went through must have been horribly difficult, but trust me when I say—you were not meant to end up with Ryan Leeds.”

  Surprise shot through me and I swung my head to look over at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “I have an intuitive sense about these things.”

  I wanted to ask him for concrete, specific details but decided to take his comment at face value. He certainly said it like he meant it. A sense of peace filled me. “I guess we both went to New York looking for normal.”

  He laughed. “That says something about us if we went there thinking we would find normal.” Then he gave my hand a squeeze and released his grip. “Now, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.” He pointed to something behind me.

  I looked out the window at a giant troll. Hair hung over one eye and the huge sculpture, hidden underneath the lofted spans of the Aurora Bridge, was so big he gripped a real Volkswagen Beetle in one clawed hand.

  I laughed out loud. “Are you sure he’s not a family member? There is a striking resemblance, you know.”

  Oliver grinned at me. “The secret of my past revealed.”

  We got out and took pictures with our phones of each other in front of the Fremont Troll, then tried to take a selfie with the troll in the background but managed to only fit his nose and half of Oliver’s head in the picture.

  Still laughing, we got back in the car and the engine purred to life. “Where to now?” I asked.

  “Theo’s is just around the corner. Have you ever been?”

  I shook my head.

  He made a snorting nose. “And you went to college here? It’s a chocolate factory—with free chocolate samples.”

  “To Theo’s!” I shouted, pointing forward.

  THE SHOP WAS small but charming with twinkle lights and beautiful displays of chocolates. They offered a wonderful variety of unusual flavors: orange, chili, salted almond, bread & chocolate, fig, fennel and almond, to name just a few, with bite size samples for the taking.

  I stood next to Oliver, as he chose a sample, and tried desperately not to pretend we were girlfriend and boyfriend. He was so close, if I just moved my hand I could slip it under his elbow and hold onto his arm like he was mine. Longing filled every inch of my body.

  I watched as he picked one sample and then another with his long, beautiful fingers. I remembered how I’d thought his hands looked like a surgeon’s. Now I realized I’d been wrong. He had the hands of an artist.

  “So, Ollie,” I took a chance on the nickname, “what do you like to paint?” He ignored me and I wondered if I shouldn’t have brought up his painting. Then he turned and held out a chocolate sample. “Here, try this one – it’s Ghost Chile.” Like an obedient dog I opened my mouth and he popped the candy between my lips. Just looking at him made me want to wag my tail. That was, until I started choking on the spicy after-bite of the chocolate.

  I coughed and the little piece went down the wrong way, lodging in some weird place in my throat that made me choke and sputter. “That’s one way to avoid talking about painting,” I choked as my eyes watered and I fought to draw a deep breath. Oliver pounded me on the back then ran to get some water.

  “Should we continue with our adventure?” He asked when I was finally able to breathe again.

  I nodded. “Let’s. I’m curious about what other methods you have to try and kill me.”

  He grabbed my hand and led me from the store. Our shoulders brushed as if we were lovers, unable to resist touching each other. I’d never been happier.

  Chapter Thirty

  Alexis coughed like she was going to hack up a lung. It was hard not to laugh at how red her face got and the tears streaming out of her eyes but I did feel a little guilty. It was just on impulse that I grabbed her hand as we left. It felt so natural—like we’d always held hands.

  “Where to now?” she asked. “Do you have more poison planned for me?”

  I walked with her to the passenger side of the car. “Poison?” I pretended to gasp. “How do you know I’m not the prince who saves you with a kiss?” She turned her face up to me with a startled expression. I leaned close like I might kiss her—teasing her. Her eyes got wide as her lips parted to breathe. I hadn’t intended to kiss her but my lips were on hers before I could stop myself. She tasted faintly of chocolate, sweet and warm. I didn’t allow myself to think about the past or the future. For this one day I was going to rid myself of the confusing emotions Alexis made churn in my chest. I was going to give in and do what felt right—regardless of the consequences. Tomorrow, I would go back to my real life.

  I opened the door and stepped away. “So, you better be nice to me.”

  WE DROVE TO Seattle Center and reached the top of the Space Needle just as a brilliant orange sun set the water of Elliott Bay on fire. We walked around the outside perimeter at the top of the Needle. It was windy and cold that high up, so most everyone stayed inside on the observation deck. We were alone on top of the world and the view was truly breathtaking.

  Alexis shivered and leaned against me. I didn’t even think before I opened my arms and pulled her close. We were in a moment out of time—alone and together—nothing to hold us down. I turned her in my arms and kissed her until there was only the smell of her skin, the feel of her tongue against mine, the pressure of her fingers against the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

  She pulled back first, but only far enough to speak. I could feel her breath against my lips. Her eyes didn’t meet mine, but stared instead at my mouth.

  “I don’t know what’s happening between us, Ollie, but I love it.”

  My heart tripped in my chest. For this one day only. I cupped my hands against her cheeks and whispered against her lips, “I don’t know either, but I love it, too.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I didn’t hear from Oliver. Sunday rolled by, then Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I didn’t know what to think. Each day my heart grew a little heavier. Had I completely misread his signals? Had he kissed me just to amuse himself? Was I making everything bigger than it was?

  OF COURSE, I called Nandini.

  “Help me. I’m losing my mind.”

  “Alexis,” Nandini said in that matter-of-fact voice, “you lost your mind long ago. Tell me what the real trouble is.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. “I think I’m in love,” I whispered.

  Nandini hissed into the phone. “Not with that snake! I forbid it.”

  “No. Someone else.”

  Her tone changed to surprise. “You’ve met someone else and fallen in love already? That was fast. Who is it? Someone you knew before?”

  I hesitated. She would probably never believe me.

  “Alexis?” She had that tell me right now tone in her voice.

  I spoke fast. “It’s the guy who was with Simone Bouchard the night I got fired.”

  There was complete and total silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Nandini?”

  “Excuse me? I thought you said you’re in love with supermodel Simone Bouchard’s boyfriend.”

  I grimaced. It sounded so awful (not to mention hopeless) when she said it like that. “His name is Oliver Beckett.”

  “Beckett? Like in Beckett, Johnson and Day?”

  “I don’t know. Who’s that?”

  “Alexis, do you live under a rock? Or maybe in one of those faerie tales you love to read? Beckett, Jo
hnson and Day is one of the most elite law firms in New York City. It’s where I dream of working when I get my degree.”

  I had shrunk down to the size of a mouse and squeaked like one too. “Oh.”

  “Seriously? You’re in love with the Beckett of Beckett, Johnson and Day and you don’t even know who he is? How is that even possible?”

  “He was also the guy with me in the taxi when I got in the car wreck.”

  It was as if I could hear the gears and wheels of Nandini’s mind whirring over the phone. “You mean the guy who stayed with you in the hospital was Oliver Beckett?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve been communicating with him since?”

  “Well, not exactly. I ran into him here in Seattle. I guess his law firm has a branch here too. We spent the day together Saturday.”

  “Alone? The two of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.” I could just imagine the look on Nandini’s face. She was about to cross-examine me to within an inch of my life. “And did he mention the supermodel, Simone Bouchard? The one his firm represents. The woman he has escorted all over New York City?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “No.” It seemed so foolish now, to think his supermodel girlfriend had just disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  “Uh huh. Was he nice?”

  “Very.”

  “Did he give you butterflies?”

  I thought about lying but I couldn’t. “Yes.”

  Nandini took a deep breath. “Did he kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh. My. God. Alexis West! Oliver Beckett kissed you? More than once?”

  “I don’t know.” She was definitely not making me feel better. “But I haven’t heard from him since. Do you think I’m insane?”

  Nandini’s laugh sounded more grim than humorous. “Alexis, I think you’ve gone past insane and straight on to delusional if you think you and Oliver Beckett are going to get married and live happily ever after.”

  “I didn’t say that—” I protested but my stomach clutched like I was going to be sick.

  “Oh Alexis.” Now I could imagine her shaking her head and in my mind there was a terrible look of pity on her face. “I can’t even tease you about this one. Don’t make me come to Seattle and slap some sense into you. You must face reality. Oliver Beckett dates Simone Bouchard. Even if they break up—which does not seem likely since she is beautiful, sexy and a multi-millionaire—he will not be dating a waiter from Antoine’s.”

  “But she’s a witch—” I started to say in a small voice.

  “Men do not care about things like that. Most likely, she is a witch to other women and a flirt to every man.” Her voice changed again and this time it was worse—because now she sounded like she felt sorry for me. “Give up, Alexis, before he breaks your heart. This one is not in the stars.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I didn’t call Alexis—even though I thought about her every day. My genius plan of spending one day with her so I could confirm I had no interest in her had not worked. In fact, it had backfired like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Jesus, had I really said the L word around her? Even though I hadn’t said I love you, it had been pretty damn close. I’d never said love to anybody. My stomach roiled at the thought. I’d learned long ago that love = commitment = misery. I’d seen it first hand with my own father and vowed: Not me. Not ever.

  Luckily, with work and my father’s health, I had other, more important things to focus on, but Alexis was always there, in the back of my mind, waiting for me.

  LET ME TELL you why I did call her. It was because of Estelle. Phillip came into my office on Thursday morning and told me we were having dinner with my stepmother on Saturday. He made it perfectly clear there would be no acceptable excuse not to attend. I’ll admit it—I was a coward. I didn’t want to go into the lion’s den alone. If I had a date, I wouldn’t be the only single at the table. If I had a date, I had a reason to be late and an excuse to leave early. If I had a date, I could pretend to be so enthralled with everything she said that I could ignore my evil ex-stepmother and not get sucked into whatever trap she would be laying for me.

  I WAITED UNTIL Thursday afternoon to call Alexis. I was going to ask her to dinner on Saturday and then I thought twice. Better to spend a little bit more time with her before I put both her and myself on the spot with my unpredictable family. I decided I’d start with a Friday lunch and see how that went before I threw her to the lions on Saturday.

  “HI ALEXIS, IT’S Oliver.”

  “Oliver who?”

  I snorted a soft laugh out my nose. She was as unpredictable as my family. She’d probably fit right in.

  “Oliver Cromwell?” she said before I could reply.

  “No. He died about five hundred years ago.”

  “Problematic. Oliver Stone?”

  “Mmm, I’m not exactly a movie director.”

  “Given the abysmal lack of direction this phone conversation has taken I would say not. Oliver Kahn?”

  I frowned. “Who’s that?”

  She spoke in a thicker-than-normal British accent. “Only one of the best German keepers to ever play football. That’s soccer to you Yanks. Clearly you must be American.”

  “Guilty.”

  “You couldn’t be Oliver Hardy. You’ve not been funny at all.”

  “Nope. I’m afraid there’s not a funny bone in my body.”

  “Then who are you, Oliver? Are you smart? Handsome? Talented?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “But more important, are you trustworthy?”

  As suddenly as our conversation had taken one turn, we had veered in a totally different direction and I now treaded on a slippery slope. A slope that I realized belatedly I had carved for myself.

  “Yes,” I said in the same quiet voice she had used. A voice that spoke the truth. “You can trust me.”

  My heart beat seven times before she spoke.

  “Fine.” She spoke in a British accent again. “I will trust you, Sir Oliver. What is it that you want?”

  It’s funny how little things like the word ‘sir’ before one’s name can suddenly elevate one’s spirits beyond reasonable explanation. As well as one’s expectations of themselves. I don’t know how she managed to make me feel like I’d been plunged into a faerie tale whenever I talked to her, but she did. I found I wanted her to use words like gallant and noble and brave when she spoke of me too.

  “I was wondering if you were free for lunch tomorrow?”

  “I’m not sure.” I could just imagine her toying with a strand of her crazy hair as she contemplated her answer. “Riddle me this, Batman—if I go to lunch with Oliver on Friday does that mean I won’t see him again until Wednesday?”

  “Actually, Boy Wonder, if you apply a statistical approach to that question the answer would be that you’ll see Oliver again on Tuesday.”

  “I’ve never been very good at statistics.”

  I laughed. “Me either. That’s why Oliver is going to ask you to dinner again on Saturday.” I held my phone away from my ear and frowned at it as if the electronic device was somehow responsible for the things coming out of my mouth. What happened to restraint? To seeing how one more date went first?

  “Oh.” I could hear the surprise in her voice. “Really? What’s happening that you want to see me two days in a row?”

  “I want you to go to dinner with me and my completely dysfunctional family on Saturday.”

  “Will the evil Estelle be there?”

  I exhaled. “Most certainly and with fangs drawn.”

  “Then the answer is a definite yes. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I clicked End and held my phone to my chest, right above my heart and giggled. Not only had he called, but he’d invited me out for two dates, including dinner with his family. That had to mean something—right?

  My conversation with Nandini had crushe
d me. I’d cried myself to sleep because I knew she was right. How had I convinced myself that someone like Oliver Beckett would be interested in someone like me? Was I so desperate, so lonely, that I was living in a fantasy world? But now—I giggled like a lunatic—he’d called. Maybe he liked me after all.

  “Don’t make it bigger than it is,” I told myself. “Simone is probably in Paris and he just needs a date as protection. Nothing more.” I pushed myself off the bed where I’d been unsuccessfully trying to write and grabbed my purse. Regardless of the reason—he’d asked me on a dinner date and he was not going to regret it.

  I RAN DOWNSTAIRS and found Jessie walking in the door from work.

  “Come on,” I said, grabbing her arm. “We’ve got some shopping to do.”

  WE TOOK THE 4Runner and headed to the downtown Nordstrom’s. I hadn’t gone out on a serious dinner date since….well, for a long time. On my limited budget I didn’t own many cocktail dresses, like none, but this date definitely called for one.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I spent the rest of the afternoon with my father at the hospital. He looked so sick that even though I was worried about the surgery, I was becoming more anxious for it to be completed than not.

  “Phil told me you’re having dinner with Estelle on Saturday.” My dad’s voice, which had once been so strong, was now a shadow of itself—a whisper of his voice. It was because of his struggle to get a deep breath, the doc had said. I desperately wanted to hear his old voice again.

  I ground my teeth. Why would Phil tell my dad that? Sometimes my brothers were as much the problem as my stepmother. She’d moved on—why couldn’t they just let her keep going?

  “Yeah, not that I want to. I’m being forced.” Dad and Estelle had been divorced for almost four years now, but I wondered if he didn’t still have feelings for her. How that was possible, I would never know, but my dad was a romantic. He thought marriage was forever.