Page 30 of Remain (one-of-a-kind)

I flashed my fingers. “I’m just glad they’re all still here.”

“Do you think you’ll cook for yourself when you get back home?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Probably not.”

She tilted her head, a gleam in her eye. “Maybe when you taste your first creation, you’ll change your mind.”

“I might. But I’d only know how to make one thing.”

“Sometimes, one thing is all you need to hold on to memories you never want to lose.”

“Mm,” I agreed, our eyes holding as we both took deep drafts of our wine.

Breaking the charged silence, I asked, “If you had a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?”

“I go back and forth,” she said. “I’d love to learn my craft under a legendary chef in the kind of fine dining establishment that critics revere, but ultimately, if I had my own place, I think I’d want to serve classic comfort food, made with only the best ingredients. But one step at a time, right?”

Feeling that now-familiar ache at the sight of her hopeful expression, I changed the subject. “Do you have a favorite restaurant around here?”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “I’ve eaten pretty much everywhere on the Cape, but this area isn’t really known for exciting cuisine. There are a few good places in Boston, but I don’t get there very often. How about you? You’re in New York, so you must have a hard time choosing just one.”

“I have a lot of favorites,” I agreed.

“I’ve never been to New York City,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “I’ve always wanted to go. The pictures make it seem so different than Boston.”

“It is different,” I said.

“Do you love living there?”

“It’s home,” I said, “and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“I guess you’d be bored in a place like Heatherington, huh?”

I detected a trace of sadness in her tone, and I willed her to meet my gaze. “I’ve yet to be bored in Heatherington,” I said, meaning it. “It’s opened my mind to new possibilities.”

She seemed to like that, and I watched as she ran the tip of her finger over the rim of her glass, making it hum. Then she stopped as though embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said. “I do that when I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“Thunderstorm. Wine. Roaring fire. The aroma from the kitchen. You and me sitting close. What you just said.”

“If it makes you feel better, I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

“I know you will be,” she murmured. “And I appreciate that.” She gathered herself before expelling a breath. “It’s not you, Tate, but you should know that I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“I figured that out the first time we drank wine together, when you made it clear we weren’t on a date.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” She hesitated, her expression conflicted. “Did I tell you about Dax?”

“You said he’s a substance abuse counselor and you sought his advice about Griffin. There was a big blowup at the farmers market.”

She twirled her wineglass. “He developed feelings for me,” she confessed.

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“I wasn’t digging for a compliment,” she said. “But it’s been doubly problematic because he’s married, and his wife and I have a history. I still can’t figure out what I did to make him think I’d be interested. Or maybe, deep down, I do know, but I was too dumb to see it at the time.”

“What happened?”

“You can probably guess. Like I told you, I was talking to him about Griffin, and little by little, he began to mention problems with his wife, Tessa. When he finally suggested that we both leave our spouses and ‘give our relationship a chance,’ I told him he’d gotten the wrong idea.

I stopped taking his calls and avoided him.

But he kept showing up wherever I was, which I guess was when Tessa found out.

Then one night, I found him on the porch looking in the windows. Reece had to run him off.”

“Did you call the police?”

She nodded. “They told Dax that if he ever came onto the property again, he’d be arrested for trespassing.

” She stopped, her form disintegrating a little around the edges as she drew a deep, slow breath.

When her natural color and shape coalesced again, she was hugging herself.

“Anyway,” she continued, “even thinking of going into town these days makes me nervous.”

“What about a restraining order?”

“That’s easier said than done, and it’s complicated by the fact that his dad is a pretty well-known attorney here in town,” she said.

“Fear and the mere perception of being harassed isn’t enough to get one.

Judges need documented threats, and Dax only came to the house uninvited once.

He’s never touched or threatened me. It’s just the opposite, in fact.

He says he loves and cares for me. Even worse, I think his wife believes we had a physical relationship, and she hates me more than ever. ”

I let the silence stretch out for a beat. “Why are you telling me all this?”

She hung her head. “Because I want you to know the real, messed-up me.”

“You’re not messed up,” I insisted.

She raised her face to mine, and for a long moment, neither of us said anything. Beyond the windows, the sky flashed again, and there was a loud crack of thunder. Rain blew sideways before dissipating into the mist.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

I held her gaze, unable to look away.

“Wren…” I whispered, her name sounding like a promise.

“No, Tate…please,” she said, stopping me. “Don’t say anything. Just look at me and stay completely quiet for one minute, okay? Can you do that for me?”

I wanted to ask why, but when she brought her forefinger to her lips, I acquiesced.

Instead of speaking, I sat in silence, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed; I saw her adjust a strand of hair that had fallen in her eyes.

Eventually she began to smile, raising an eyebrow as though daring me to break the silence first. Then she tapped her wineglass with her finger.

“All right,” she said. “Now you can talk.”

“What was that?”

“A game my friends and I used to play when we were kids, before any of us had even kissed a boy. When there was a boy one of us liked, we’d have the two of them stare at each other without saying anything.

It was supposed to be like a movie moment.

But back then, no one could last a minute.

Someone would start laughing or they’d look away, and then you’d really know that the two were crushing on each other. ”

“What does it mean that I didn’t look away?”

“It means you’re an adult,” she said. “And that you’re ready for the next game.”

“You want to play a game?”

“I do,” she said. “It’s kind of like this one, but it’s the grown-up version.” Her tongue darted between her teeth as she leaned toward me. “You have to promise that you won’t break the rules.”

“All right.”

“I’m serious, Tate. I know how special these last few days have been. But I’m fragile right now and I think you are, too, so that makes it dangerous for both of us. Can you promise again not to break the rules?”

“I promise,” I said.

She studied me before nodding. “Okay,” she said. “We need to be standing, and you’ll have to put down your glass.”

I set my wine on the table and stood, watching as Wren did the same. She rounded the love seat, stopping in front of the fireplace, where I’d first stumbled on her doing yoga.

“Come here.” She crooked her finger and I approached, feeling a little breathless.

“It’s called the no-touching game,” she said, moving until she was only inches away. “The object of the game is to get as close to each other as you can without touching. The first person who touches the other loses.”

Slowly, she lifted her hand and brought it to my face, her fingers nearly touching my hair. She gradually followed the plane of my cheek and my jaw, almost like a caress, pausing her hand before lowering it back to her side.

“Your turn,” she breathed.

I could see her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat as I lifted my hand and delicately traced the line of her collarbone, over her shoulder and down her arm, imagining the smoothness of her skin. It wasn’t until I lowered my hand that I realized my heart was racing.

She went next, and with her eyes locked on mine, she framed my face with both hands before deliberately lowering them to my chest, where she hovered for a moment, then continued down my sides to my hips.

Her fingers were so close they almost brushed the fabric of my shirt, and for an instant, I closed my eyes.

“I could almost feel your heartbeat that time,” she murmured, the light from the fireplace dancing in her eyes. The logs sparked again, and I heard the snap; I could hear the ragged sound of my own breathing.

Carefully, I used a single finger to trace the air above each of her eyebrows and make ovals near her eyes. Her nose came next, then her jaw and finally her mouth. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips.

“I want to draw you,” I whispered when I was finished. “I want you to sit for me. Will you do that?”

She nodded. “Only if you raise your hand and spread your fingers.”

When I did, she raised her hand to mine, mirroring it, our palms barely a hair’s breadth apart.

I could almost feel her palm grazing mine, the sensation sending shocks up my arms and continuing to linger as she slowly outlined each finger.

In her eyes I saw an acknowledgment of her effect on me, and what I thought was a mirror of my own desire.

“You’re beautiful, Wren,” I whispered through the tightness in my throat. I moved even closer to her then, until our bodies were nearly touching. Our legs, our chests, our torsos almost joined as one, the distance between us so small that I could no longer tell where I ended, and she began.

She looked up at me, her lips slightly parted, her eyes promising so much more, and I knew I could no longer stop what was coming.

Tilting my head, I moved my lips slowly toward hers and I hesitated, expecting her to stop me.

But when she didn’t, I leaned even closer, already imagining how it might feel…

But just as my lips touched hers, a loud crack split the air, and she vanished. In the same instant, the power in the house went out, casting the parlor into shadow. I lowered my head, berating myself for being so foolish but knowing I couldn’t have stopped myself.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the quiet room.

Closing my eyes, I tried to summon her once more.

In my mind, I willed it, desperately trying to force an appearance.

After a while I relented, and simply yearned for it, entreating the darkness for her return.

But in the end, I remained alone, wishing more than anything that I could undo what I’d done.