The Life We Almost Had

by Laura Miller

  “Well, mostly,” he says, taking time to wink at me.

  I shake my head and walk into the kitchen. The appliances are all still here. In fact, only the refrigerator is different from when Angel lived here. Hers was a tan, almost yellow, color. Berlin’s was always white.

  I stop at the sink and stare outside the window when something grabs my attention.

  “Berlin.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Come here,” I say.

  Within a moment, he’s standing beside me, looking out that same window.

  “It’s still here,” I say.

  “Well, hot damn.” He runs his fingers over his lips.

  “Let’s go see it,” I say.

  I unlock the back door that’s right off the kitchen. It sticks, but after a good, hard pull, it pops open. And then, we walk across the backyard to the little wooden ladder nailed into the old oak tree.

  “It’s smaller than I remember it,” I say.

  He shrugs. “It looks the same to me.”

  I climb up the ladder and crawl along the wood boards that make up the floor until I’m resting on its far side. Unlike the two houses, this old tree house surprisingly seems as though it’s lasted the test of time, without much change or wear.

  Berlin climbs up next and takes a seat on the opposite side. And he just stares at me with a big, wild smile stretched across his face.

  “My first kiss was right here,” he says.

  I lower my eyes before meeting his gaze again. “Mine, too.”

  “Really?” He acts as if he’s shocked to hear that. “With who, pray tell?”

  I shake my head. “Just some boy I used to know.”

  “Well, it couldn’t have been just any boy. I mean, it was your first kiss. He had to be something special, right?”

  I stare back at him, trying not to smile.

  “Was yours ... special?” I ask him.

  “The kiss or the girl?”

  I keep my eyes locked in his, but I don’t say another word, while hushed seconds fall to the boards beneath us.

  “The answer is yes, to both,” he says.

  There’s a minute where neither of us speaks or even moves, for that matter. But then it’s me who eventually bows my head and softly clears my throat.

  “You think Officer Brad is still running up and down these streets?” I ask, looking through the space in between two railings.

  Berlin peers through the railings as well. “I don’t know if anyone’s out there anymore.”

  Instantly, I choke down a laugh.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I’m sorry, I could just swear that I’ve heard that line in a movie about the apocalypse once.”

  “Well,” he says, chuckling, “it could very well be ... the apocalypse. In the time it took you and I to drive here, the world could have ended. In fact, we could literally be the last two people left on this earth.” His stare remains somewhere far off. “We wouldn’t know the difference here.”

  My eyes catch on an old, glass bottle rolling down the middle of the street.

  He’s right.

  “It’d be nice if somebody could bring some life back into this town.” His eyes wander back to mine.

  I nod. “You never know. Maybe that old lighthouse in the woods will guide everybody back here again someday.”

  He laughs to himself. “Yeah, maybe.”

  I stumble upon his gaze briefly before my attention strays to a piece of wood in the far corner of the little house. Berlin follows my stare there.

  “Well, there it is,” he says, “the first cut.”

  I softly smile, and then I move over to it and trace our initials in the wood with my fingertips, remembering the day he put them there.

  Berlin moves next to me and watches me do it. And when I get to the last letter, I look at him. And I get caught in the words in his eyes. And I don’t know if it’s just being here or remembering how I loved him ... Or maybe it’s just the man he is now, and all the time we’ve been spending together is just now catching up—but I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized by the gold spinning in his gaze.

  With a gentle hand, he moves my hair from my shoulder. And then his fingers carefully trace a path down my bare arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My heart pounds in my chest. I forget to breathe. And before I can even get another thought in, I feel my eyes falling shut. And then it all happens so fast—the rush, the heat, the familiar sensation of his lips brushing against mine. Our actions are remembered, yet somehow new and raw. At first, the kiss is soft and gentle, and his touch is tender. But then it deepens, as he intertwines his hand in my hair and draws me closer to him. And all I want is more of him. Lust and passion sprint through my body. But mostly, I feel love—a love I thought I had lost forever.

  I loved the boy from Sweet Home. And now, I’m back at the place where it all began with the man from Channing, Kansas. And I can’t even tell them apart.

  Suddenly, our kiss breaks, and he presses his forehead to mine. I’m out of breath. He is, too.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” he breathes out in a whisper. And after a pause, he adds: “I’m sorry if it was the wrong thing to do.”

  I lift my gaze to his. “I’m not sure it was—the wrong thing.”

  There’s a subtle smile on his lips. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I can’t even tell my own thoughts apart. Everything about this moment is so overwhelming. And meanwhile, my heart is about ready to burst.

  I love him.

  The thought just dashes across my mind, as if finally, it were free.

  I love him.

  I haven’t admitted that to myself for nearly seven years.

  “It’s been a good week,” he says.

  My eyes immediately turn down to the boards that make up the floor.

  There it was—that moment that reminds us that this all is about to end.

  It stings my heart.

  “When you become a famous artist, you’ll let me know ... where I can get your work.” There’s pain in his voice. My first instinct is to kiss it away, but that’s overridden by seven years of absence.

  I try to smile, instead. “When I become a famous artist, I’ll send you my favorite piece ... on the house.”

  He lowers his head. “I can’t wait.”

  I watch his eyes travel to a place in the distance, beyond the walls of this tree house. And it looks as if his mind goes there, too.

  “We are more than a week, Iva Scott. Please don’t forget that.”

  I meet his sultry stare.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  It grows quiet again, and there’s a part of me that wishes for this big, blue sky above us to swallow us both, so that we can live in this world, in this time, forever. It’s an old wish. I’ve wished it before—in this same place, a long time ago.

  “Iva.”

  He presses his lips together and furrows his brow—as if he’s about to say something important.

  “I love you,” he breathes out.

  And just like that, I lose my breath.

  “And I’m always going to feel this way about you,” he whispers. “This love,” he clarifies, “it’s always going to be here for you. But of course, you knew that,” he adds, in a low voice.

  I feel tears pricking the backs of my eyelids. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want this to end again.

  He reaches for my hand. And then he intertwines his fingers in mine—just like he used to. The feel of his skin on my skin immediately makes me wish he hadn’t done it. It feels good to be here. It feels good to be here, like this, with him. It makes me wish I had never accepted a job half a world away. It makes me wish I had dreamed all my dreams differently. It makes me wish we had never left this sweet, little town—that those seven years apart had never happened.

  I stare at our hands and feel a tear slide down my cheek.

  “I love you, too, Berlin Elliot.”

  I just say it. I forget the
consequences, and I just say how I feel.

  He looks into my tear-filled eyes.

  “Then stay with me,” he says.

  There’s a moment when I can hear myself breathing. I’m not thinking anything. I’m just replaying those four words over and over again in my head.

  He squeezes my hand and rests his other hand on the side of my face. “Make a life with me, Iva.”

  A series of incoherent thoughts run through my mind then: Sinclair Williams; Berlin; the bird on the broken fence; painting; plane ticket; Berlin; a dream; the ocean; New Zealand; Berlin.

  And then, my lips part, and a word comes out.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  He finds my eyes. There’s caution written on his face—as if he doesn’t know if he can trust his own ears.

  “Okay,” I say again. Who knew that little word could be so freeing? “I love you, Berlin. I want to make a life with you.”

  I can tell he doesn’t quite know what to say. “You don’t need time to think about it?”

  I shake my head. “I have thought about it. I’ve thought about it every minute since I found you again.”

  “What about the internship? What about New Zealand?”

  I shrug. “I want to be with you.” An unexpected smile crosses my lips. “I don’t have to go. Berlin, you’re my dream. You’ve always been my dream. I can paint here just as easily as I can paint anywhere in the world.” I laugh, despite the tears still in my eyes and those rolling down my cheeks. “Plus, here, I’ll have my muse.”

  He looks at me—like really looks at me—like he did when we were just kids. It’s that same look of a million wild and crazy thoughts all wrapped around one, central thing. And a long time ago, I deciphered that one thing is love.

  He gathers me into his strong chest and firmly wraps his arms around me. “Iva, you are more than I could ever comprehend.” Then he pulls away and finds my eyes. “It’s always been you. Just so you know, it’s always been you, Iva. There comes a day in every man’s life when he looks up, and he knows he’s met his match. And for me, I was just a boy when that day came.” His voice breaks into a smile. “But I knew it, all the same. That day I looked up and saw you just across this street ... That was the day I laid down my armor ... and gave you my heart.”

  I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “Iva, from here on out, we’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna make it this time.” I feel his tender kiss on my forehead. “I’m not letting you get away again.” He pushes a strand of my hair back from my face. “Plus, this time, there are no daddies threatening any restraining orders, and I’ve got a car. And I’ll drive as long and as fast as I have to ... to get to you.”

  I look into his eyes. “Promise?”

  He nods. “As sure as the sky is blue, Iva Scott.”

  He pulls me closer again and whispers in my ear: “I love you, baby. I love you with everything I am.

  I always have.

  I always will.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I Saw Your Name

  Two Months Later

  Iva

  I declined the offer to work under Sinclair Williams. And I canceled the flight to New Zealand. And on the fifth of May, I graduated from the university with a degree in fine arts—something I’m not quite sure how I’m going to use in Channing, Kansas, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Right now, what matters is that I get to begin again the life with the boy I’ve always loved—with the boy who taught me how to love.

  Natalie wasn’t surprised when she heard the news that I wasn’t going to New Zealand. She was sad that she no longer had a reason to go there, but she got over it pretty quickly. And Isaac acted as if he knew I would stay all along. Berlin’s parents, too, didn’t seem overly surprised. And neither did Elin. My parents, on the other hand, were a different story. Berlin came with me to tell them. My momma was happy—happier than I imagined she would be. And I don’t know if it was because I’d be closer to home—at least now, she wouldn’t have to take a plane to see me—or if it was just because she really did like Berlin. She never said it growing up, but she was, ultimately, the reason that Berlin and I got to spend the time together that we did back in Sweet Home. She was always in my corner when it seemed as if Daddy wasn’t.

  And I might be crazy, but as I was telling them my plan to move to Channing, I almost thought I saw something in my momma’s eyes. It was almost as if, for a moment, she was someone else entirely. For the first time, I saw this glint in her far-off look that made her appear vindicated—as if she had believed this was always going to be the outcome.

  My daddy, however, kept a straight face the whole time that Berlin and I talked. I was almost afraid for Berlin, even though he now towered over Daddy’s shrinking frame. I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the times I had to fight with him to see Berlin. I know he thought Berlin was never good enough for his little girl. And I don’t so much hate that he thought that way anymore, but I was hoping that he would see him in a different light now that he’s a man.

  When we finished talking, Daddy looked at Berlin. I could tell he wasn’t really thrilled about anything we had said.

  “Well, just how do you plan on supporting yourself?” he asked. “My daughter will do just fine. She’s got a good education. But she doesn’t need to be supporting you, too.”

  Berlin briefly glanced at me. He still had that same terrified look on his face he always had when facing my daddy, but at the same time, I could also see something new in his eyes.

  “I think I’ll be able to pull my weight, sir,” he said, meeting my daddy’s cold stare.

  “Daddy, Berlin is a NASCAR driver,” I interrupted then.

  Daddy’s eyes got as big as two, round saucers. Then he stared at me, and then he stared at Berlin. And then he pulled out his glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on. And Momma, Berlin and I watched as he found his phone and pecked out some letters.

  A few, long minutes crept by before we finally heard Daddy mumble, under his breath, the words: “Well, shit.”

  Then he slowly set his phone onto the arm of the sofa, slipped his glasses back into his shirt pocket and didn’t say another word, until we were leaving. It was then that Daddy stood up, and he shook Berlin’s hand—for the first time ever. And then, he smiled a rare smile. And you could think that Berlin being a famous NASCAR star sealed the deal when it came to Daddy’s opinion of him, but I know the truth. It wasn’t the titles or the fame or the money. When the rubber met the road, it was the haircut and the slacks and the button-down shirt—that wasn’t black.

  I set down a box full of my clothes and swipe my forehead with the back of my hand.

  It’s move-in day, and it’s nearly ninety degrees. But I can honestly say that today is my most favorite day of my entire life, next to the day I saw Berlin for the first time in seven years.

  “Iva, Isaac wants me to open the shed tonight.”

  I look up from the box. “Oh, really?” I scrunch up my nose and plop down into a desk chair. It’s parked in the hall, for now. It almost made it into the den.

  “Yeah, I know,” Berlin says, echoing my exhaustion. He glances down at his phone’s screen.

  “I was hoping for a relaxing night ... with you,” I say.

  He looks back up and pushes his lips to one side, as if he’s thinking.

  “It’s fine,” I say, before he has a chance to say another word. “Just tell him you’ll do it.”

  His gaze stays in mine for a long moment. I know he’s trying to read my thoughts. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, it’ll be fun. And fun sounds good, too,” I say, smiling back at him.

  “Okay, then. I’ll let him know.”

  We get close to the path that leads to the barn, and I notice that there are cars lining the road.

  “Berlin, why are people already here if it’s not even open, yet?”

  He pulls up to the barn and turns off the truck. “I don’t know.” He looks up at the big
, wooden door. “I think Isaac said that he might get here early and open it up. He knows where the extra key is.”

  “Oh,” I say, with a question still hanging on my lips.

  I reach for the door handle, while Berlin gets out of the truck.

  “Well, then why couldn’t he just open it up himself ... since, well, he did?” I ask, through the open window.

  He smiles. “I guess it’s just a nice gesture, you know, to ask.”

  I half-heartedly try to hold back a laugh. “A nice gesture? Isaac Thrasher and nice gesture don’t really go together.”

  “I do believe you are absolutely, one-hundred percent correct about that, Miss Scott.” He opens the door and offers me his hand. “Maybe it was Natalie’s idea to ask, then.”

  I shrug and let him help me out of the truck. Then we walk to the barn hand in hand. And as soon as we get to the big door, I can see all the people inside. It seems as if everyone from the whole town is already here.

  “Well, I guess there wasn’t much going on anywhere else,” I say.

  “Oh, baby, come on, this is where you want to be—no matter what else is going on.”

  I laugh, and he leads me through the crowd of somewhat familiar faces. I’m still getting to know everybody.

  The lights are all on, and there’s a soft glow over every person and piece of wood surface. I can tell that Isaac is in charge of the music, as usual. There’s some kind of folkish country pouring through the big speakers. And tonight, there’s a karaoke machine in the corner.

  All of a sudden, the music stops, and I hear Isaac’s voice echoing off the walls. “Attention. Attention.”

  The crowd hushes to a soft murmur.

  “I just want to let everybody know that the infamous Berlin Elliot has just entered the building with his beautiful childhood love, Miss Iva Scott.” He points in our direction, and everybody turns to look at us.

  I squeeze Berlin’s hand, as I increasingly feel the weight of their stares.