I nodded, looking around. Taking in the decor that hadn’t changed much over the years. It was comforting to be in a place that both felt familiar and, as Daniel said, was filled with good memories. My stomach growled and I pressed my hand to it. “I could use a grilled cheese. They make the best one.”
“I hate to tell you this, but it’s not on the menu anymore,” Daniel said, and I gave a small grunt of disappointment. “But the Voodoo Chicken Fingers are amazing. And you can’t go wrong with the stuffed burger.”
An hour later I was full of chicken fingers and two pints of the Maddy’s Mad Blonde Lager and felt better than I had in weeks. We’d laughed a lot—reminiscing about our many messy Maddy nights, and how they should probably have named bar stools after us for all the money we’d spent there. We waxed poetic while we drank our pints about how carefree life had been back then, before we had to start “adulting.”
A touch light-headed from the beer and not paying enough attention to where my feet were planted, I missed a step as we walked out of the pub. Luckily Daniel was right behind me and caught me before I landed on my ass, though it wouldn’t have hurt much on the carpet-covered stairs. It also wouldn’t have been the first time I stumbled down these steps, but definitely the first time in the middle of the day.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I said, leaning back into Daniel so he could stretch around me to reach the handle and open the door for us to leave. “You were right. This was a great distraction.” My voice was boozy and relaxed, and I wished we could go back upstairs and keep this thing going. Order another pint and reminisce a little longer. But by the time I thought to suggest it we were outside already on the pub’s small front porch, under the shadow of the awning, and I knew the moment had passed. He had to get home, to study, to Margot. And I had to figure out what I was going to do about Brooke.
I turned around to look at Daniel, still behind me, to thank him again for knowing exactly what I’d needed, and as I did he leaned down and touched his lips to mine. But it wasn’t a quick kiss this time—it was one that lingered.
He held his lips to mine long enough for me to reciprocate. His hand moved to my lower back, his fingers clutching my jacket, and he pressed me closer. I closed my eyes, the feel of him against me reassuring and exciting. I didn’t even worry we were making out in broad daylight, where anyone could see us. I didn’t care about that—only about how fierce my need for him was, and how well we fit together (unlike with Matt, I had enough height on Daniel that my arms could go easily around his neck and rest on his shoulders) all these years later. His mouth was warm, all-consuming, on mine and I got lost in what we were doing. Lost in him, and the memory of us.
It was incredible and exactly as I remembered how it felt to be with Daniel. At least at first.
Then something strange happened. Like the magnetic pull of our lips reversed, and I could no longer keep my mouth against his. The taste of him was all wrong, too, even if I couldn’t sort out exactly why. But even though I pulled away from the kiss, our bodies remained in contact and the energy between us continued to buzz. His breath was heavy in my ear and his heart beat fast against my chest. I rested my head into the crook of his neck and grabbed my bottom lip, pulling slightly, feeling the lingering tingle. I wished I could go back to kissing him, in nearly the same place we shared our very first kiss. But the sensation of being repelled increased in intensity with every passing second and soon I couldn’t bear to be near him.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel whispered, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered and he pulled me closer despite my slight resistance. I wanted him so badly, in a way that made me feel weak and pathetic. But while my mind shouted for me to stay, my body was retreating.
“We can’t do this,” I whispered back. But why was I the one saying this? Daniel was married. I was instantly furious with myself for letting things get to this point. But, my God, kissing him... For the first time since I learned what had happened to me I felt normal. Like all the puzzle pieces were finally back in their proper places. Except they weren’t.
For a moment Daniel didn’t respond, kept his arms around me and his lips near my ear, his breath slowing as the intensity between us lessened. “I know,” he finally said. He rested his forehead against mine, closed his eyes, looking pained. “I’m sorry. I should never have—”
I pulled back, waited for him to open his eyes and look at me. “No, it wasn’t you. I wanted to. But it has to end here. It’s not fair for anyone.” He nodded and I knew he was thinking of Margot, like I was thinking of Matt.
“I don’t know what happened, Lucy.” He scraped a hand through his hair and smiled sadly at me. “I got caught up. Being here again, with you.”
I extricated myself from his arms and stepped back, nearly tumbling down the last few stairs. He reached out for me, but I managed to hold myself up on the metal railing. Now that we were a few steps apart and I was no longer in his arms, he seemed unsure about what to do with his hands. He tucked them into his pockets and gave me a long, miserable look.
“We can’t be friends,” I said.
He nodded, his chin dropping as he stared at his feet. His jaw tensed and released a few times, and I nearly started crying as I watched the turmoil move through him. It was as though we were breaking up all over again, and I wondered what it had been like the first time.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, wondering if it was true. I longed for things to be different, already regretting my words even though this was the only thing that made sense. “Well, bye, Daniel.”
“Take care of yourself, Lucy.”
I walked away, keeping my head high and not glancing back to see if he was still standing on the porch, watching me and wishing, like I did, we could have another chance.
But even if Daniel had told me he still had real feelings for me, wanted to leave Margot, I wasn’t sure what I wanted anymore. When I first woke up and learned Daniel was not my husband, the moment we had just shared was what I fantasized about—where he would tell me he wouldn’t let me get away a second time, and the confabulation I’d created would become a reality. We would be married. “Better late than never,” I would say before I kissed him and we exchanged long-overdue vows.
But the moment I’d imagined, hoped for, hadn’t been real. Instead, it had felt like something inside me was opposing Daniel. I couldn’t explain why, or how, but it was undeniable—the sense we were not matched, after all. We were not supposed to be together. Otherwise, we never would have been apart in the first place and it would have been Daniel I woke up to in the hospital. He was not, I was beginning to understand, the missing piece I’d been looking for.
37
I wasn’t up to going out, but Jenny was relentless and told me she wouldn’t leave me home alone andthere was no way I would make her miss the best party of the year. So because she was letting me crash on her futon, but mostly because she was right that being alone probably wasn’t the best idea, I agreed. With Jenny’s nudging and most of a bottle of wine while we got ready, by the time we arrived—at a swanky downtown restaurant that had been closed for the night to accommodate the who’s who of the city’s film and television industry—I felt good, ready for anything. The afternoon with Daniel now thankfully buried under my buzz.
“Lucy, I want you to meet someone,” Jenny shouted in my ear. It was loud in the restaurant, all the voices mingling to create one giant hum. I let her drag me around for about thirty minutes while she introduced me to colleagues and friends, smiled and shook hands and asked appropriately social questions about what they were working on, nodded and turned my face into a mask of curious interest at their responses. There was an endless stream of drinks moving in and out of my hands. Iwashaving a great night, and for a while I simply forgot. About my accident, and Daniel, and Matt. Then Jenny was beside me again, squealing and clawing at my arm and whispering about how she’d met some hotshot director who claimed to know who she was, and she had to leave me for a few minutes to go mingle. She kissed me on the cheek before practically running through the crowd to get back to this director and his entourage.
With so many drinks consumed it was time for a bathroom break, so I made my way downstairs—carefully, the high heels (I’d changed out of my flats at the last minute and into a pair of Jenny’s shoes) and alcohol and steep stairs a dangerous mix. The washroom was empty, which was surprising for the number of people at the party. I came out of the stall and clumsily readjusted my short skirt so the zipper was at the back again, and then leaned heavily against the sink ledge as I evaluated myself in the mirror. Jenny had curled my hair into big, glossy waves, my lips were still colored, thanks to a lip stain that lived up to its marketed staying power, and I looked like a girl without problems. If only I could have frozen time. The door opened, the sounds of the party seeping back in, and I turned from the mirror to see Jenny.
“You okay?” she asked, holding two drinks in her hands. Something clear, in short glasses with one giant ice cube sitting in the middle of each.
“Better than ever,” I said as I washed my hands. The water splashed over the edge of the basin and I reached for some paper towels, losing my balance in the process. “Oops!” I laughed and stood with my feet a bit farther apart to stabilize my body. Then I wiped up the excess water and took the drink Jenny handed me.
“Maybe I should have grabbed you a water, too,” Jenny said, watching me try to stand without swaying.
