The panic attack at her apartment. The way she’d been hyperventilating. All I wanted to do was hold her close to my chest and turn back time to rewrite the prophecy. Even if it meant erasing the encounter that brought her into my life.
I kill the ignition once I’ve talked myself down, then step out of the car to spot her in the distance. My eyes linger on her, committing her memory in case this is the last time I ever see her. But it’s the sheer tights, black wool coat, and heeled boots that put me on high alert.
It’s the dead of winter, and she runs cold as it is, but it’s when she turns around that I realize what she’s done.
It’s the red dress—the one she wore when we ran into each other here nearly four months ago.
Her timid smile when she meets my gaze is enough to send my heart into overdrive, and I can’t help but mirror her expression.
I’m not used to this—the unknown.
In the beginning, I knew where she stood with her absolute hatred of me. Toward the middle, it shifted to something more amicable, and at the very end, before it all blew up, I thought she really liked me. Now, with an unreadable look in her eyes, I don’t even know what she’s thinking.
“Hey.” Vivienne lifts her hand in greeting.
“Hi.” I reciprocate the gesture before shoving my hands in the pockets of my coat, scared they might give away how I truly feel.
I circle the now snow-filled fountain, trying my best to avoid the spots of ice that surround it before stopping in front of her. Season aside, everything feels so eerily similar to how it did that night.
As though on cue, the memories come flooding back. The lighthearted flirting. The shoe that fell on top of that goose’sback. The splashing of water around us as we fell into that fountain.
At the time, none of it was funny. The news articles. The controversies. The having everything I’ve worked for on the line. But looking back at it now, I’m grateful for every single experience, because they brought me to her.
Even though I may have already lost her.
“I think I need to start with an apology,” I say, looking into those big brown doe eyes.
They look at me with a softness that wasn’t there last time I talked to her. And though that seems like an improvement, it still feels like I’m treading troubled waters.
“I’m really sorry for the deep-rooted pain I caused you—all of it. The avoidance when I couldn’t grapple with my feelings. The life-altering invention that took lives and impacted you and the families of everyone on that plane.”
Vivienne lets out a loud breath, fishing something out of her pocket and holding her fist out for me. I place my hand under and feel cool metal when she lets go.
It’s her engagement ring. The one Melanie bought and gave her. Though I had nothing to do with purchasing it, seeing it returned seems like an ending. And I don't want us to end.
“Do you actually feel guilty?” she asks, hard, unwavering eyes boring into mine. When I nod in agreement, she bites back a bitter smile. “Tell me why you feel bad.”
The command takes me by shock—my involvement in the death of her parents is obvious. Blatant to the naked eye. The last thing I want is to recite it again, but if it means the possibility of getting the girl back, I will.
“It might have been Carter’s poor execution that led to the…mishap,” I use as my word of choice, not knowing how else to phrase it. “But it was my idea. If I’d protected it—”
“Stop right there.” Vivienne interrupts me with her hand. “I don’t want to hear anymore of this pity party you’re having for me. If you can’t move on from the past, let go, and detach from what you think you did, we can’t be together. So I’m asking you the question again. Do you feel bad?”
The underlying answer is yes, I am ashamed of the past and the consequences it’s had. But I can also acknowledge that I wouldn’t be standing here if not for it. And I don’t know how to wrestle with that guilt.
Thankfully, she fills the silence.
“What’s done is done—the stolen idea, the Carter Crawford crisis—it’s all in the past. We can’t go back and change time. I understand why you put all the blame on yourself, and how much of a burden that knowledge must have been for you to carry. But that isn’t what hurt me the most, Nate—you ignored me instead of telling me what was bothering you. And that kind of communication isn’t sufficient for a healthy relationship.”
I nod in acknowledgment, knowing where I went wrong. “And it will never happen again.”
Vivienne takes another deep breath and looks off to the side to a crackling of tree branches where two little brown birds nestle in. They stand out against the white background, chirping as though offering words of encouragement.
Her eyes water at the sight, and she turns back to me with a lot more determination.
“If we move forward, I want you to promise me that we’ll both do our best to communicate with each other, through thick and thin. No matter how good or bad it is, we talk it out,together—like a real couple, because that’s what I want us to be. That is, if you still want me.”
“If?” I quirk a brow in shock at the word she’s using.
