Home > Forked (Frenched #2)(11)

Forked (Frenched #2)(11)
Author: Melanie Harlow

But time is finite, I’d argued. And it does slip away, if you’re not careful. You only get so much of it and you have to make choices about how you want to spend it. I don’t believe in putting things off until the next day, waiting for things to go on sale, or driving around looking for a better parking spot just to get ten feet closer. I don’t sit around hoping something will go my way when I can be doing something to make it go my way or get where I want to go, faster.

I’d accused him of looking at time like an ocean—it seems infinite, like it stretches out in front of you forever, but it doesn’t. Somewhere on the other side is the other shore, and furthermore, the water level is probably shrinking.

He’d laughed and tackled me, sending me over backward onto the blanket we used to drag outside to drink whiskey and look at stars whenever we were visiting his grandmother’s farm. I hadn’t thought about that argument in years, but his next words came back to me clear as the sky had been that night. “Listen,” he’d said, stretching his long, lean body over mine. “When we’re out here in the country, and I’m looking up at that sky full of stars, somehow I just know that you and me and time and everything in the universe goes on forever. So don’t try to tell me different because I won’t listen.”

Every cell in my body had vibrated with life and feeling as I looked up at him. He said forever. He said forever. “Forever, huh?”

He rubbed his whiskey-flavored lips on mine. “Forever.”

And then for some reason I got scared that he would die young, because he was an idiot and could be reckless and foolish like only a twenty-one year old guy could, and I clutched him to me, opening my mouth and my legs and my heart as wide as possible, like taking him inside me would protect him.

I should have been worried about protecting myself.

My heart ached for a moment, remembering how much I’d loved him that night, how much we’d loved each other. I’d wanted so badly to believe he could be right.

I’d wanted forever.

“Here we are.” Nick pulled open the door to the distillery, which was housed in an old garage on Michigan Avenue. The circular bar in the center of the tasting room was busy, but one of the bartenders waved hello to Nick and gestured to some empty space in front of him. As he cleared the glasses and wiped the counter, I walked over and took a seat, dropping my purse by my feet. Nick slid onto the chair next to me.

“Nick.” The bartender, a heavily bearded guy in a blue button-down, reached across the bar and shook Nick’s hand. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Sebastian. This is my friend Coco.”

“Nice to meet you, Coco.” Sebastian reached for my hand, and I took it.

“My pleasure,” I said. “I’m a huge fan of Two James.”

He smiled. “What can I get for you?”

“How about the five-spirit tasting flight?” Nick looked at me. “You up for sharing that?”

“Sure.”

Sebastian left us, and Nick swiveled his seat to face me, dropping his folded hands between his thighs. “So.”

I glanced briefly at his wrists, which happened to be resting near his crotch, causing another unwelcome yet pleasant tickle between my legs. I pressed my knees together and forced myself to meet his eyes. “So.”

He said nothing, just continued looking at me for a moment, and then he tucked his full bottom lip between his teeth, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if he should. Very unlike him.

“What?” I squirmed in my seat.

“What, what?”

“You’re staring at me.”

He shrugged. “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than you’ve been in my thoughts, which shouldn’t be possible.”

Feeling heat in my cheeks, I looked down at the bar and busied myself folding the napkin Sebastian had set there into ever smaller squares. “Don’t.”

“Come on, you have to let me look at you a little. It’s been so long.”

I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes, scared that if I did, somehow time would begin rolling backward. “It has been.”

“Seven years.”

“Seven years,” I echoed.

“Seven years, two months, five days, fourteen hours...” He looked at his watch. “And six minutes.”

My mouth fell open, my heart thudding in my chest. Had he really been keeping track of exactly how long it had been since he’d seen me? “Wait a minute. You seriously know that?”

He grinned. “Nah, I’m just teasing. But it’s probably close, right?”

I slapped his leg. “Ugh, I believed you for a second, you asshole. God.” Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the napkin, unfolding it and starting over.

Nick laughed gently. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.” He paused, shifting in his seat. “You know, I can’t decide if it feels like it’s been seven years or seven hours since I last saw you. In a way, it’s like no time has gone by at all.”

I wondered if he meant that it seemed like I hadn’t changed physically or if he meant that his feelings for me hadn’t changed, that they were rushing to the surface in the uninvited and uncontrollable way mine were. “I know what you mean,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “And then in other ways, it’s clear how much time has passed.” Unable to resist teasing him, I reached over and flicked a finger through the few gray hairs above his ear. “Old man.”

   
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