Relapse

by J. P. Nicholas

Hannah looks absolutely stunning as she dances with Logan in the center of the dance floor, Ed Sheeran's Perfect blaring through the speakers. I couldn't be happier for them. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I kind of played a big part in getting these two together. If I hadn't reminded Logan that he has always been head-over-heels for her, then who knows if he would've ever taken a chance on his best friend. But I think I speak for everyone here when I say, I'm sure damn glad he did.

  After their dance is over and the dance floor opens up to everyone else, the party is in full swing. Family members and friends crowd the space, dancing in all kinds of wacky ways. The sprinkler, robot, floss, swing, cha-cha slide, electric slide, all the fucking slides, and one waltz. Which only makes me think of Darren, dancing with me on the beach…in the rain. I sigh at the beautiful memory. If I could only go back and start from that summer day again. I'd do things differently. I'd tell him that I applied for a job at Columbia before I left, but I don't want it. That one sentence could've prevented this entire uproar. Then my life wouldn't be in shambles, and I wouldn't feel so goddamn lonely, even when I'm surrounded by tons of people.

  Mrs. Montgomery is put on baby duty, rocking a sleeping Jack in her arms, while her granddaughter, Elle, takes a nap in the seat next to her, her head resting on her grandmother's lap. It's a cute sight to behold, to say the least. Ben is sitting on top of his father's shoulders, as Liam spins him around.

  It seems that everyone is having fun…except me. I'm trying to, honestly. But I'm not one for dancing, especially without a partner. That was always Darren's thing, dancing. He's so damn good at it, and I can always count on him to lead me in a way that makes me look like I am too. I bring a flute of champagne to my lips, letting the bubbly liquid spill down my throat in the hopes it can ease some of my worries. At least for an hour or so. I don't want to think about him for an hour; can the world grant me that? Please?

  That doesn't happen. I get lost in my thoughts, trapped in my worries, falling faster down the I-miss-Darren-and-want-him-back rabbit hole.

  After I finish my speech and offer up a toast to the happy couple, the night winds down. Guests are leaving, children are dropping like flies, and I have cut myself off the bubbly for the remainder of the night. Three is my limit. I can feel the buzz from the alcohol tingling my scalp, giving me a false sense of euphoria and happiness. I'm not happy, far from it actually. Sure, I'm happy for them. They deserve each other. But just because I'm happy for Hannah and Logan doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to still be miserable on the inside, right? Well, who cares what you think? I think so, so I'm sticking with wallowing in self-pity.

  I'd leave but being the maid-of-honor at this reception, it wouldn't be right leaving before the guests of honor do. Or at least, that's what Ethan reminded me when I said I was ducking out early and calling it a night. I heed his advice because, well, he's been a groom before. Thus, he has a crap-load more experience at this shit than I do. Did I mention I don't care for weddings? Even though this is technically an anniversary party, since barely anybody got to attend their actual elopement, this is practically their wedding reception. Therefore, I must abide by the rules that are customary to a wedding.

  And that's precisely why I'm fucking stuck here for another hour before Hannah and Logan stand outside their limousine. My mother is watching Jack for the week while they go on their honeymoon. It took some convincing to get them both on board with leaving their son behind for a week, but moms can be very convincing. We all hug, kiss and wave our goodbyes as they slide into the back seat.

  When the limo pulls away, my heart stops. My body trembles at the sight of him. There he is, dressed in a form-fitting red tee and dark jeans. My Darren—I mean—just Darren.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Darren

  I have never been so fucking nervous in my entire life. God, she's beautiful. Her brunette hair is curled at the tips, and I want to curl every one of them around my fingers as I kiss her breathless. But I can't. She is wearing this sexy emerald green dress that would look perfect on the dark hardwood floors of my bedroom. Fuck, I want her so bad. I've missed her so much. I need to touch her. Have her touch me. To speak to her, confess that I'm a fucking idiot, and beg for her to give me another chance. A final chance. Because I won't allow myself to fuck this one up. Not this time.

  Sparks of nerves surge through my body like electricity as I walk toward her. With each footstep, my heart pounds faster. Harder. It feels like it's going to explode as the distance between us is obliterated. When I reach her, the only thing I can think to do is fall to the floor. No, I'm not proposing to her. I'm not so daft of a bloke that I assume proposing to her will solve all our problems. That's not realistic. But there is no way in hell I deserve to look down on her as I beg for her forgiveness. She deserves to look down at me for a change. For she is everything to me. And this is only the beginning of me trying to prove that to her.

  I can feel all their curious, beady eyes on me, but I don't care. This cannot wait. I cannot spend another bloody day without her.

  "What are you doing here?" she asks, a bewildered expression etched in her features. My dick perks up just from the sound of her sweet voice. Evidently, he's missed her too.

  I reach into my front pocket and pull out the slip of paper that Logan gave me. On it is today's date and this venue's address. Note to self: you owe that man a pint.

  "I'm here to make things right, Alyssa. Can we please go somewhere to talk?" My voice sounds extra gravelly tonight, probably because I've swallowed countless lumps down my throat all damn day. Nerves are a bitch!

  I reach up my hand, hoping with all my might that she takes it. She eyes it skeptically for a few endless seconds before she slides her hand into mine. I close it tight, not wanting to let her go. I stand up and walk with her, our hands intertwined as we stride down the sidewalk.

  "Darren, where are we going?"

  A chuckle rumbles from deep inside my chest. I love her curiosity, but not enough to give away my plans. "You'll see soon enough, Cherub.”

  I guide her to the back gate to my yard, stopping right in front of it to start this serious conversation. "I fucked up, Alyssa. I know that. I overreacted when I should have spoken to you. I shouldn't have blindsided you like that."

  She looks up at me, her green eyes watery, but not to the point of crying…yet. "Then why did you?"

  I scrub a hand over my jaw before I answer her. "I didn't want to admit it to myself or you, but the entire time we were together, I was afraid. Afraid that you would leave me again. I didn't want to lose you. But that fear is precisely what led to me losing you in the first place. I know, I don't deserve another chance. Especially after I called you by your nickname, but I'm begging for one. I'm ashamed to say I knew how much that was going to hurt you and that's why I did it. I wanted you to feel the pain that phone call caused me. It was foolish and selfish, I know. But it's the choice I made. I can't go back and change it. But what I can do is beg for your forgiveness."

  She stares at me, her mouth is open, but no words come out. I need the words to come out.

  I place my hands on her shoulders and gaze into her eyes. In a soft, smooth tone, I whisper. "I love you, Alyssa. I love you so damn much. I can't lose you again. I won't lose you again. Even if I have to spend every day of my life trying to prove to you just how much I love you, I will. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this right. To make us work."

  I close my eyes, fighting back tears as I place my forehead on hers. A sense of déjà vu comes over me, but I ignore it. Last time I was in this position, she didn't stay. I'm hoping this time it will be different. "Don't give up on me. On us."

  "You told me to leave, Darren. You said it was all I was good at. Do you know how much that hurt? Did you ever really forgive me for leaving you in the first place? You said you understood why I did, but that didn't stop you from doing the same thing to me. Did it?"

  Tears sting my eyes as they fill with pain. I pla
ce both my hands on her cheeks, framing her face. "I'm so fucking sorry. I shouldn't have said that. And I wish like hell that I could take those words back. I do forgive you, Alyssa. I don't know what else to say to make this better. All I know is that a long time ago, there was this gorgeous girl who asked me to borrow a quarter. She had ambitions and dreams. Both things I took away from her. I want that girl back. And I want to be that boy you fell in love with again. The boy who gave you this." I tug on the necklace around my neck. "Before life got in the way and changed who I was. Who I am. That's what changed us. That's what started all this crap. Let me be that boy again, Alyssa. The one you fell in love with."

  "How?" Her voice sounds strained and hoarse from her sobs.

  "By letting me finally fulfill a promise I made to you."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Aly

  He brushes his thumbs under my eyes, wiping away the tears until they don't fall anymore. He takes my hand as he kicks open the gate to his backyard. When we turn the corner, I am speechless. I couldn't speak right now to save my life.

  Twinkling lights hang from a large, newly constructed pergola. Under the pergola are numerous different stations set up. A bunch of different flags are blowing with the breeze, melting my heart. He remembered. He actually remembered. Tears start to well in my eyes, but these are full of happiness, hope, and longing.

  Tugging on my arm, Darren takes me to the first station. A large French flag extends past the first three stations. We sit at a small round table, across from each other. Sitting atop the table is a small Eiffel Tower paperweight. I sip a mango daiquiri as he drinks an Old Fashioned.

  "Sip a cocktail in front of the Eiffel Tower, check." Darren writes a giant checkmark in the air with his finger. "Now, start jogging."

  He jogs us over to a fountain surrounded by tons of potted shrubbery. "Morning jog in the Luxembourg Gardens, check."

  At the next station, I find a picture of the Mona Lisa hanging against a drape, a velvet rope separating the picture from us. "Visit the Louvre, check."

  With each station, I fall deeper in love with this man. The ambition in his eyes, the determination in his voice, the confidence in his movements, this is him. This is the boy I fell in love with. I knew he was still in there somewhere, fighting to break back out to the surface. I'm glad he's winning that fight because I've really fucking missed him.

  This next station is underneath the Polish flag. We have officially left France. "Okay, so I couldn't find a carriage in the week it took me to set all this up. So, we have to settle for sitting on pumpkins, alright?"

  I laugh as I see two pumpkins placed on the floor underneath the Polish flag; in front of them is one of those horse heads on a stick that children like to play with.

  "This is even better," I reassure him, as we both plop our asses on pumpkins.

  "Carriage ride through Krakow, check."

  I can't help but smile at just how happy he is. He looks free as he treads me around his backyard, showing me what he's created. Much like a child does when they bring home their school art project. Except, I can't hang all of this on the fridge at home.

  Under the Scottish flag are two crowns, one fit for a king, the other for a queen. Darren bows to me after he places the king's crown on my head and the queen's on his. "You own me, Cherub. Don't you ever forget that."

  He pecks a kiss on the back of my hand. "Live like royalty in the Scottish Highlands, check."

  Under the Irish flag are two bottles of Guinness. We each take a swig of one. "Pub crawl in Dublin, check."

  Darren skips the station with the giant Union Jack hanging above it. "We’ll save that one for later."

  One by one, Darren leads me to a station that crosses something else off our bucket list. Eat paella in Barcelona. Check. See the Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany. Check. Sail around the Greek Isles. Check. Sunbathe on a beach in Montenegro, stand on the end of the continent in Portugal, visit the opera one night in Vienna, have gelato in Rome, and grow old with me on a vineyard in Tuscany. Check, check, check, check, and check.

  We return to the British station, where an envelope resides on the table. Darren nudges me forward; bringing his lips to my ear, he taunts me. "Open it."

  I retrieve the suspicious envelope, tear it open, and retrieve the contents inside. As I realize what it is, my heart melts. I turn toward Darren. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

  "Well, that depends. What do you think it means?" A cocky grin tugs on his lips.

  I stare at the pair of airline tickets in my hands, reading the destination. London. I raise both my brows as I chew on my bottom lip. "You're giving me that personal tour through your hometown like you promised?"

  Darren inches closer to me. When he is standing right behind me, his hot breath sends tingles down my spine as he brushes my curls off my shoulder and brings his lips to the exposed skin. He trails kisses up my neck in between words. "That and so much more, Love. We are going to do all of it. We start in London, and we end in Tuscany. Two months. Just me and you."

  I don't know how to process all this. He did all of this…for me. This is everything I've always wanted, and so much more. I don't think I've ever been so happy in all my life.

  His lips make their way to my cheek. "What do you say, darling? Come with me?"

  I desperately clutch fistfuls of his red shirt, yanking his lips to mine. I need to taste him. I need to feel this connection I've been craving. To thank him for everything. All of this. I open my mouth, allowing him to dart his tongue into it. With each swipe of his tongue against mine, he takes more of me. He kisses deeper. Harder. With more need. More want. More desire. With a passion burning so high that it shatters through the atmosphere.

  He groans into my mouth as I suck on his tongue. I swallow the sound as it vibrates into my mouth. God, I've missed this. Him. Us. What we have together cannot be replicated. It's some kind of deep connection. A spark that's surged inside both of us since the day we met.

  The stubble on his chin abrades the skin on my jaw, sending a bolt of electricity straight to my lady bits. They throb with anticipation and want. They've missed him too, it seems. I want him. Now. So desperately. Just like this.

  Darren rips his mouth off mine, causing my lower lip to extrude into a prominent pout. "You never answered me, sweetheart."

  I jump into the air, wrapping my arms around his neck as he catches me, tugging me into his deep embrace. "I'm all in. You. Me. Us. The trip. I want all of it."

  He places a quick kiss to my lips before he peels back again. "There was one more thing that was on that bucket list of ours."

  I arch my brow, pretending that I don't know exactly what he is talking about. "Oh, yeah? And what's that?"

  He waggles his brows as he drops his voice to a low, throaty, groan. "Skinny dipping in Sweden."

  Darren places me down, and with his hands on my waist, spins me around to face the pool. Sprawled out on the deck is the Swedish flag, a plateful of chocolates sitting in its center.

  Next thing I know, we are both tugging off our clothes in a flurry. Pants, dress, shirt, bra, panties, and everything else end up a hot mess piled on the floor. Darren and I are submerged in the water, completely naked, making out like a couple of rowdy teenagers as we grind our bodies against each other.

  "Fuck, I want you," I say in a breathy moan.

  "Then, take me, Cherub. I'm all yours. Always and forever."

  Epilogue

  Aly

  Alyssa's Travel Journal:

  Stop #1: London, England

  This could not be any more perfect, walking hand in hand with the man I love in a city that brings such joy to his eyes, all while he tells me stories about his childhood. It's romantic, beautiful, and makes me fall harder and deeper for him. This man is my everything.

  Darren showed me all the touristy sites. Big Ben, the London Eye, Buckingham Palace, etcetera. But, by far, my favorite places to see are his places. The ones that he narrates for me, givi
ng them all his own personal touch. Like the street he learned to ride a bike on. Or his favorite spot to get the best cup of tea—it is frickin' delicious if I do say so myself, and I am by no means a tea person. I'm a coffee gal all the way! Each of these places that light up his face makes me feel overjoyed. I love getting to know him this way. Getting to share a much deeper connection.

  I love this man so much! Darren took me to see the remains of Richmond Palace, aka Queen Elizabeth I's favorite palace. It's pretty much a gatehouse overlooking a large field. He surprised me when he pulled out a basket and a blanket. We shared a picnic on the field, overlooking the gatehouse. He still doesn't understand just how much that small gesture meant to me.

  Historical Tidbit: Big Ben is not actually called Big Ben. It is called The Clock Tower, while Big Ben is the name of the bell.

  Stop #2: Fort William, Scotland

  Darren took me to stay in the Inverlochy Castle Hotel, so we can live like royalty in the Scottish Highlands. Which admittedly isn't very hard to do considering the lavishly decorated rooms and historic grounds. Not to mention, it has gorgeous nineteenth-century architecture that makes my historical heart feel at home.

  Historical Tidbit: Queen Victoria spent a week here in 1873 and wrote in her diary that "I never saw a lovelier or more romantic spot."

  Stop #3: Dublin, Ireland

  I have never drunk so much beer in my life—Guinness to be more specific—mainly because I don't even like beer. I'm more of a fruity or sweet cocktail kind of girl. If my drink doesn't have some kind of fruit or umbrella in the glass, I'm not interested. But being that I was here in Dublin, I felt the need to live like the Irish do. Jumping from pub to pub just to drink beer and eat bar food. And before you ask, no, I did not spot a leprechaun.