Take Me Back to the Start #1

17. Teeny

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Teeny

NOW

The hotel refurbishments were slowly but surely moving along. Restoring the original trim to look new and modernized. Working with the contractor to make sure the installations for new carpeting, drapes, and countertops were completed on time. Getting my hands a little dirty with minor paint duty and some maintenance cleaning. Finalizing the last of the furniture orders with Roberta. I’ve been keeping myself busy, making sure to be present during the more important renovations. It’s more than I usually do. Normally, I’d let the construction teams check in with the design-build contractor and I drop in on an as-needed basis, but this project feels different. I want to be there. To make sure things run smoothly. To make sure I’m available if anyone needs me.

There’s also this niggling, poking thought in my head. Maybe I’ll run into Everett. Maybe I’ll see him in passing. Ever since our trip to LA, I’ve been more and more curious about his life. What he talks to his therapist about. If it has anything to do with us, what happened and what drew us apart. If he’s okay. A small fraction of the persistent worry that’s been consuming me thinks maybe he’s not okay. Maybe even after all that time he’s spent in therapy, he’s still not who he used to be.

I’m overlooking the new curtain and drapery installation in the grand ballroom, making sure the layers are arranged correctly, when my phone buzzes in my hand.

“Hey, Mina,” I say, answering the phone with a smile.

“Vegas, baby!” A loud hoot follows, and I pull the phone away from my ear. “Are you excited?”

“Yes, Mina. Baking in 112-degree heat at Encore, stewing in a pool at a day club with a hundred drunk people, and the DJ playing loud ass house music is my ideal weekend. And let’s not forget those thirty-dollar drinks I could be mixing together at home for free.” I release an exasperated sigh, regretting this weekend already.

“Come on, Teen! Be excited! It’s my last night of debauchery as a single woman.”

“So why is your future husband joining us?”

“To ward off all the weird men, duh. Anyway,” she adds. “They’re going to do some gambling while we do some shopping.”

“Now that I’m excited for.”

“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”

“Noon,” I tell her. “I just have to come back to the hotel and check in on a few things before I head to the airport. What about you guys?”

“We’re driving.”

My face twists into a disgusted grimace. “Ugh, on a Friday? Have fun sitting in six hours of traffic.”

“That’s why Josh is driving, and I’ll have plenty of snacks.” A loud boom interrupts us, and I turn to see one of the workers add to the pile of rubbish full of dusty fabric and rusty metal rods. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the…uh, the hotel. The one I’m?—”

“Oh, you mean Everett’s hotel?”

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“So, um,” she says in a low whisper. “Josh told me about Everett. You and him.”

“What did he say?”

“That you two were…” She sighs before adding, “In love.” She says it like she’s talking about a fairy tale. Some far-off happily ever after Everett and I got to live out where we parted ways amicably, and we remained fond of each other and the memory of us.

“It’s so much more complicated than that. You have no idea.”

“Well, he told me you two were disgustingly cute. And he thought you two would end up together until you met Leo, and?—”

“Mina,” I interrupt, begging her to stop. “Me and Everett?—”

“Me and you, what?”

My heart shooting up into my throat has me gasping for air. I grip my hand against my stomach, hoping that too won’t jump out of my body with the sudden appearance of Everett. It’s almost like he has some Spidey sense, and they started tingling as soon as his name was spoken into the air. “Everett!” I shriek, turning around only to come face-to-face with his amused smile.

“Everett’s there?” I hear through the phone.

“Uh, um. I’ll talk to you later, Mina.”

“Okay, call me,” she instructs.

My eyes stay glued on Everett’s. “Yeah, I’ll text you when I get to Vegas too.”

I hang up, letting my phone sit heavy in my hand after I feel like my limbs have lost all control. I haven’t seen Everett in weeks. I also haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, and it’s like I conjured him from my thoughts in his pressed dress shirt and drifting cologne.

“So, you’re going?”

“Huh?”

He nods at the phone. “Vegas. Decided you aren’t too old for a weekend of club hopping?”

“Yeah,” I say, taking a step back, creating more than the two inches of space sitting between us. “Grace and Mina guilt tripped me into going, so…”

He tucks his hands into his pockets, and that smile hiding a secret, shifts as he takes me in. I opted for comfort today, prepared to get my hands dirty if needed. That meant skinny jeans and a white-collared button-down tucked in at the waist. My hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, much like I used to have as a teenager, reminding me of what I must look like to Everett. Like the Teeny he met when we were just kids.

“And Eric told me he could handle things here while I’m out of town,” I add, feeling the pressure from his gaze. “It’s the weekend, so a lot of the work will be held off until Monday anyway. But I’m available if you guys need?—”

“I’m going too.”

“Right.” Of course, he’s going. “Anyway, I got an update from Roberta on the pieces you picked. I was going to go over them with Eric, but since you’re here and you chose them, you want to take a look?”

He nods. “We can have a seat at the bar. Grab a drink?”

“Sure.” I sound soft, affable. Friendly even. And I realize I can’t remember the last time I felt that simmering anger, that resentment and bitterness I had when Everett came back into town. It’s all been replaced with a keenness I can’t seem to hide. But it’s confusing me. I feel like I should be angry. Like I should still demand answers and keep this wall up around me, protecting myself like I’ve always done. But now, with Everett around, I have this urge to deconstruct parts of that wall to create the smallest of openings. Just wide enough for him to fit through.

Everett and I make our way to the bar area right around the time the workers in the ballroom break for lunch. He signals to the one server working the bar area, and I order a cup of coffee while Everett orders a club soda and lime.

“You don’t want to eat?” Everett asks, gesturing a hand to the menu sitting offside on the table. “We have a pretty decent lunch menu.”

I shake my head. “I actually need to head out in a little bit. Sadie has her showcase, and it’ll be a bit of a drive to LA.”

“Okay,” he answers. “So, do you want to show me the pieces?”

“Oh, right.” I power up my iPad, tapping away at the screen before nudging it in front of Everett. “The coffee tables are almost finished. And they’ll be perfect for the main lobby area, especially with the furniture and upholstery you picked.” I swipe across the screen, showing him the progression of the tables as Roberta adds the final touches. She’s been sending me regular updates, asking about Everett in a non-professional inquiry.

“They look good,” he comments, his eyes on the screen. He takes over, swiping along the images before swiping too far, and he lands on a picture of me, Leo, and Sadie. “Is this him?”

Him . He doesn’t say “your husband,” and it feels intentional. I nod. “Sadie was four, and it was her first visit to Disneyland.”

Sadie’s smile beams with the sun shining above us. She has a set of too large Minnie Mouse ears sitting lopsided on her head, and Leo and I sandwich her tiny little face stained with chocolate. “I forgot that was in there.”

“That’s a beautiful picture.” He hands the iPad back to me.

“Thank you.”

Our drinks arrive, and we sip in silence. My spoon scraping against the ceramic mug and the ice clicking in Everett’s glass creates a buffer of noise, but after a moment too long of silence, it only magnifies the quiet.

“You’re driving out to Vegas?”

“Flying,” I tell him. I take a slow sip of my coffee. “I don’t have the patience to sit through that drive.”

He smiles. “I’m flying too.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we can take a cab to the hotel together,” he suggests. “You know, if our flights get in around the same time.” He reaches into his pocket for his phone and taps away at the screen. My eyes widen when he slides it across the table to me. “Go ahead and put in your number.”

I should decline his offer. It would actually be the polite thing to do since it would be such an inconvenience for him to track me down at the airport. But I don’t. Instead, I take his phone in my hands, carefully inputting my number before sliding it across the table back to him. He takes it in his hands, and my phone vibrates in my bag.

“That’s me,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the buzzing noise. “Let me know when you get in.”

I take another sip of my coffee instead of answering him. “I should actually get going,” I tell him, setting my cup down.

“Of course.” We both stand, our cups full and barely touched. My coffee has steam rising from it, and the condensation on Everett’s glass is still frosty, no beads of water dripping down it quite yet, showing how fleeting this exchange was. “I’ll walk you out.”

I lead the way, Everett following a step behind me. I feel his hand graze over my lower back, something I think is instinct. But he quickly moves it away, as if he’s realizing it shouldn’t be there.

“I’ll reach out to Eric if there are any updates,” I tell him as soon as I reach my car. “And I’ll talk to that gallery for the artwork. Set up an appointment.”

“Call me,” he tells me casually. He gestures a quick nod to my bag, reminding me that I now have his number. I have a way to reach him.

He stoops down to reach for my door handle and opens it for me. We’re quiet as I step in, securing my bag in the passenger seat, and I look up at him with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

He nods in response and closes the door behind me. And he doesn’t walk away. Instead, he stands there, watching me as I pull out of the parking lot. I see him in my rearview mirror until he disappears when I turn out on the main road.

* * *

“Mommy!” Sadie squeals, her voice echoing off the walls inside the main building at the School of Creative and Performing Arts. Her body crashes into me, and I feel a conflicting wave of bliss and melancholy.

“Hi, baby.” I pull away to take her in. It seems she’s grown even bigger in the short weeks we’ve been apart. She’s no longer my little girl. No longer that four-year-old toddler, still mixing up her words and throwing tantrums over more hugs and kisses from her mama and dada. “Are you nervous?”

“Nope,” she says confidently. She links her arm through mine and guides me to the main auditorium where other parents are slowly making their way to their seats. “Is Dad here?”

“I don’t know,” I tell her, searching over the room. “Did he not call you?”

She shakes her head. “He said he was coming though.”

“Well, he must be stuck in traffic.”

Sadie suddenly waves wildly at a small group of kids her age, all gathered near the stage. “I have to go, Mom. The rest of the band is here.”

“Break a leg, Sade.” She gives me one last hug before sprinting to her friends.

The seats in the large space start to fill. I finally find one in the middle, two seats sitting side by side. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe after fifteen years of being married to the same person, it’s hard to break the habit of consideration. Always making sure my husband is taken care of whether it be a fresh pair of socks when the dirty laundry pile is getting too big or saving a seat.

The lights dim, signaling the start of the show, and still no Leo. The seat to my right still sits empty, and I get a few judgmental glares as people look over the available spot before heading to the back of the auditorium to the standing-only space. Frustration starts to bubble inside of me. What could possibly be keeping Leo from seeing his daughter’s first showcase?

I catch Sadie walk onto the stage. She takes her spot on a small stool in front of a keyboard while the rest of the members of her newly formed band take their spots. One in front of a microphone stand with a guitar slung over their shoulder, and another behind a drum set. The entire room stills as Sadie, her mouth settled in front of a mic propped in front of the keyboard, makes introductions.

“Thank you all for being here,” she says, her voice a little shaky and nervous, though she refuted any anxious nerves a mere ten minutes ago. “We are Ultraviolet here to perform ‘Brilliant.’”

Music sounds immediately as Sadie presses her fingers on the keyboard. The three band members on stage start to sing at the same time, their voices harmonizing evenly in a fluid way that makes me wonder how they found each other. Those nerves in Sadie’s voice disappear instantly, and I see her fall into her element. I forget about Leo being late, about how disappointed she’ll be once she finds that her dad isn’t here. About how many more moments like this will add onto the slabs of letdowns she’ll have to suffer as she gets older.

She’s a woman up there, using the power in her voice to express herself. She grew up right before my eyes, and I feel my nose start to sting with tears. She grew up despite my urges not to. For her to stay my baby forever. She grew up regardless of the rift drawing the two people she looks up to the most apart.

As soon as the band finishes, I clap. I cheer and holler, and I see Sadie blush from the attention inside the auditorium. They all bow, their hands linked together at the edge of the stage, before walking off. I reach into my purse for my phone to text Leo, to let him know he missed his daughter’s performance, when I see a new message from him.

Leo

I got caught up at work. Tell Sadie I’m sorry.

I resist the urge to groan. My frustration turns into anger, and I’m reminded of the Leo I’ve always known. I should’ve expected this.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up to see a woman, her hopeful eyes urging me to answer her as set changes are made on stage for the next performance. “No. Go ahead.”

* * *

The flight into Harry Reid International was smooth. Thankful for the short flight and the aisle seat I was able to snag, I exit the airport with my carry-on in tow. As I order my rideshare, I hesitate. Should I call Everett? He is the one who suggested we share a ride when we get in. Maybe he’s here, somewhere in this airport, hesitating just the same as he questions whether or not to check in with me before sliding into his own rideshare.

I choose the less conflict-inducing choice and order my ride. It would be really weird if Everett and I showed up at the hotel together. If my brothers were to see me stepping out of a car with my ex-boyfriend as if we’d planned the whole thing, they’d be sure to give me their two cents.

When I arrive at the hotel, I check in and go to my room. It’s nice, a single king-size bed with plush bedding and small bottles of Fiji water at the mini bar. It’s still early, and I know Mina and Josh won’t be here for another few hours, muscling through the Friday afternoon traffic onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Grace is set to arrive soon too, though she has her own plans with a different hotel on the strip. Something about a comped room.

So to beat the heat and kill some time, I change into my bathing suit and head down to the pool. With my large sun hat, mesh cover-up, and a few magazines in my small tote bag, I find a spot near the bar with the perfect amount of shade and away from the gaggle of children cannonballing themselves into the water.

I flag a server walking by, requesting a white wine spritzer, before sliding my sunglasses on and laying back. I leave my magazines, the unanswered emails, and the book I’ve been lugging around with me in my bag. The heat is stifling, but under the shade and with the occasional gust of a mellow breeze, it’s relaxing, and I eventually start to laze into the rough yet plush fabric of the lounge chair I’ve flattened.

“Enjoying yourself?”

I know it’s Everett before I even see him. From the way his voice melts over me, making my insides warm and gooey. Or his sure stance, standing over me with confidence. His presence feels almost…pervasive. Hard to ignore and overpowering.

I face him with a proud smile, the smugness radiating off the way I don’t bother covering up or moving about in a flustered state. Instead, I leave my arms draped over the back of the chair and cross my leg over the other. “Very much.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead.” I gesture to the empty spot next to mine. As Everett lays down a towel and adjusts the back of the chair to his liking, I take him in. He’s traded his neatly pressed dress pants and fancy shoes for swim trunks and a loose-fitting button-down. He’s wearing sunglasses as well, Ray-Bans that make him look cool and even a little trendy. In the overbearing heat, his skin looks sun kissed. And the muscles that run along his calves and forearms look nearly indecent.

“You just got in?”

“Mh-hmm,” Everett hums. “Thought I’d check out the pool to beat the heat.” My drink arrives, and Everett orders one for himself. I lay back, sipping my wine while trying to ignore the way Everett’s hair blows in the wind almost as if it’s got a mind of its own. Or how the light stubble around his chin makes him look unruly and roguish rather than unkempt. “When did you get in?”

“Just now,” I tell him. “I checked in and came straight down.”

“Do you know when Josh’ll be here?”

“They barely left like two hours ago. With the traffic, they probably won’t be here until close to seven.”

I reach for my sunscreen out of my bag and start applying it on my arms and legs. I move to my back, barely reaching the center, before giving up and applying more to my neck and chest area.

“Did you need some help?”

I look at Everett as he points an indistinct finger to the tube of lotion in my hands. I hesitate but then consider his offer. It’s an innocent one, something my parents used to do before I raced into their pool, yet there’s something underneath it. An undertow of caution I’m too aware of. “Sure,” I finally answer.

He takes the tube in his hands at the same time I turn to face my back to him. I hear the cap pluck open and a blubbery staccato noise of the sunscreen being squeezed out, and before I know it, Everett’s hands are on my skin.

My muscles jolt at the contact, but I adjust quickly, finding that his fingers move skillfully. I start to wonder if it’s because of a past that involved numerous partners where he performed a similar act in hopes of some intimate favors. Or maybe it’s that his hands have always known how to touch my skin. He never unlearned how.

I feel his hand tuck under the strap of my bikini top, moving along the dip in my spine, and those fingertips kneading the lotion across the spots I couldn’t reach. And I realize, I don’t remember the last time I was touched like this. So intimately and with so much care and tenderness. It makes me wonder how his hands would feel on other parts of my body.

I feel his breath sigh over my shoulder blade, and I instinctively lift it, as if to move closer to him, hoping he’d dip his face to press his chin or even his lips to my warm skin. A gentle pat to my hip signals the end of his task, and when I turn to face him, he’s extending the sunscreen in my direction.

“Thank you,” I whisper, taking it from him.

He nods and sits back in his chair.

I lay back down, brushing off the moment by stretching my toes to a point and exhaling an indulgent sigh, even letting a small hum slip through my lips. “This feels so good,” I say quietly.

“You look relaxed.”

I perch my sunglasses on my head and look at him with a cheeky smile. “As opposed to how irate and bitchy I’ve been for the past month?”

“No,” he argues. “You don’t look wound up. You look good. You should go on vacation more often.”

“I agree,” I respond. “Just maybe somewhere where walking the Las Vegas strip in six-inch heels isn’t on the itinerary.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“Let’s just say I’ll need a few cocktails before Mina has me dancing on any bar top.”

Everett chuckles, the throatiness of his laughter causing my insides to liquify even more. Maybe it’s the soothing summer heat or this much needed vacation away from real life. Or maybe the ideology of what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, but I feel loose. Amenable to anything.

“Want to go in for a little dip?” I remove my large hat, exposing the matted mess of my hair underneath it. Everett looks at me, watching me stand from my chair while I tie my hair up in a haphazard knot.

“Sure.” He sits up, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt before pulling it over his head. His hair comes out a little disheveled, but he smooths it out and readjusts his sunglasses.

I don’t understand how his body, unlike this face, hasn’t changed. He still has those familiar muscles lining his stomach, and the sharp edge of his collarbone that used to dig into my cheek when I’d nuzzle into him too aggressively. There’s a light smattering of hair on his chest now, slightly obscuring a tattoo on his left peck. With his deep wavy hair and his hipster swim trunks showcasing his massive thighs, he looks the part of an annoyingly, almost obscenely, attractive bachelor enjoying a weekend of debauchery in Vegas. In comparison, I look like a mom on a weekend girls’ trip to escape the realities of motherhood. My too pale skin from the lack of sun exposure and the faint stretch marks I never saw coming lining my outer thighs really are the cherry on top, as are the high-waisted bottoms I chose to hide my loose mom pooch.

I walk ahead of Everett, feeling him close behind me. I hurry, hoping if I submerge myself in the water, I won’t stand out in stark contrast to him. As soon as I’m waist deep, I turn to see Everett carefully taking the steps inside. I catch a few ladies admiring him, turning heads as they walk by, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

I coast my hands through the water, causing it to ripple around me, and Everett inches closer. He sinks in all the way and when he reemerges, his face is inches from mine. I giggle, and he squirts water from his mouth, dousing my dry cheek.

I laugh, shoving a hand into his chest, and he laughs too. “You are such trouble.”

He shoots a flirty little grin at me. “How so?”

I choose not to answer him, my eyes flitting to his chest instead. “When did you get this?” My fingers trail over his chest, outlining the dark lines engraved into his skin. It’s waves, ripples of water that look chaotic, colored in different shades of blue. Turquoise, navy, sky blue, indigo, periwinkle. I didn’t even know tattoos could be this vivid and kaleidoscopic.

He looks down at my hand, and he lays his over it, his fingertips brushing over my wedding ring as if reminding me that I’m not his to be touching. “After college.”

“It looks nice.”

He nods, tracing his thumb into my palm and trailing it down my wrist. Drops of water land around us, making light plunking noises that echo in my ears. I feel our legs and feet touch in the water where it doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. It’s probably the shrouded cloak of the sparkly surface creating an out of sight, out of mind effect. Or that there’s so much going on between us, our feet playing an accidental game of footsies feels trivial.

I can’t see his eyes through the veil of his sunglasses and droplets of water covering the lenses. My heart races and words feel like they’re stuck in my throat.

“You’re nervous?” he asks, his voice low and cautious.

I nod. “I don’t know why…”

“It’s just me, Teeny.”

“I think…that’s what I’m afraid of.”

His hand slides behind my back, pushing me closer to him, and he rests his forehead against mine. My heart seizes inside my chest. But I don’t push him away like I should, too scared to face the hurt and pain carved into the parts of my heart where I tried to forget my past. Instead, I hook my hand around his neck. This feeling starts to become all too familiar. Me in Everett’s arms where I never wanted to leave but didn’t have a choice but to.

“Why did you come back, Everett? After all this time? Why?”

“I missed you,” he whispers.

I want to tell him I missed him too. That I still do. But I can’t. Too confused and unsettled to have him looking at me, waiting for me to say something, I turn my cheek, letting it brush against his. I feel his mouth coast over my skin, leaving behind a torrid heat in its wake. He doesn’t do more, but I feel his lips. Like fingertips reading braille, scanning and studying and absorbing.

We stay there, the water moving around us in waves from people coming and going. Families frolic in the water, lovers coast by in each other’s arms, people laugh and squeal, but Everett and I don’t move. We’re fragile, the pieces of us barely held together with something weak and vulnerable. And if we move, if we break this trance, all those pieces may fall apart and become irreparable.

* * *

Okay, so maybe those heels I was telling Everett about were more like four and a quarter inches. Nonetheless, they’re going to kill me by the end of the night. But boy do I look sexy in them. These shoes paired with my bandeau top and short skirt, I look like a very single woman who is ready to mingle.

Holy shit. I’m a single woman. Well, technically not until this divorce is finalized, but once it is, I will no longer be Leo’s wife. I’ll just be me. I don’t even know who me is. Who am I if not Leo’s wife? Sadie’s mom? Am I more than that? Well, tonight, I’m just a member of the bridal party, here to show my full support as the bride and groom embark on yet another celebration.

I give my hair one last fluff, making sure my blowout looks runway ready, and grab my small silver clutch before leaving my room. When I make it downstairs to the lobby where Mina had instructed me to meet with the rest of our entourage, I find I’m the first one there.

I’m scanning the room, hoping to catch Grace when she arrives from her hotel a block over, when I feel a light tap on my shoulder.

“You look lost,” I hear a deep voice say. When I turn, a set of glossy eyes with a sloppy moving mouth and clumsy hand gestures wait for me to say something in response.

“No. I’m fine,” I tell the drunken stranger as he smirks through a hiccup. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

He doesn’t take my dismissal well, and he grabs my arm at the same time I recoil from his touch.

“Oh, come on,” he says, his voice getting more slurred by the second. “Let me buy you a drink. Looks like you could use one. Might loosen you up.”

“I’m—”

“Teeny.” Everett reaches my side, his steps urgent yet calm and collected. His eyes dart to where this drunken stranger has his hands on me. His eyes narrow, and I see his jaw tic. “Is there a problem here?”

The man’s eyes round, dropping my wrist. “Nah, man. Just making sure she’s okay.”

“Like I said, I’m fine,” I snap at the man. He raises his palms in my direction and backs away with his tail between his legs. I turn to Everett, and he looks at me with his brow raised in amusement. “I could’ve handled that on my own.”

“I know.”

He peers down at me, starting at the crisscross straps of my shoes up to the too short hem of my skirt and finally stopping at the cleavage rounding my top, far below my neckline. “You look nice.” His voice cracks, and he tries to hide it with an unsteady hand through his hair.

I fidget with my clutch and smile politely, a little uncomfortable from the attention. He’s wearing a suit, of course, cut and tailored against the curves of his body. It’s a light gray color, and he paired it with a black dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. And I just know if I were to peek just an inch down his shirt, I would get a glimpse of that tattoo on his chest. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Hayes.”

I don’t realize it slipping from my lips, calling him something that used to come so naturally to me. Everett doesn’t respond with a pleased smile or chuckle. Instead, his eyes bore into mine, his gaze darkening with the furrow in his brow casting a shadow.

“Teeny!” Mina’s body collides into mine, making me stumble a step back, and I laugh into the wavy curls of her hair. I catch Josh from over Mina’s shoulder, walking toward us at a leisurely pace. “Girl, you look fucking hot!” she says, taking a step back and gripping my elbows in her hands. “Doesn’t she look hot, Everett?”

“Mina!” I hiss.

“What? You do.”

Too embarrassed to argue with her, I reach into my purse instead and pull out the magenta-colored BACHELORETTE sash I stuffed in there. “Here,” I tell her, lifting the looped part over her head. She takes it graciously and smooths her hand over the wrinkles before adjusting it.

“What else you got in there?” I hear a low whisper graze the shell of my ear. I push down the dull shiver that starts at my shoulders and turn to face Everett.

“You know. Just the necessities,” I tease. “A hat rack, my house plant…a Tide to Go Instant Stain Remover.”

We share an intimate pause meant only for me and him, and it feels so dreamlike, I want to bottle it up. Drop it into a silk pouch so I can hold it in my hands when I grow lonely and scared.

He doesn’t have time to sneak in a little quipped remark because Grace struts through the sliding glass doors like she’s walking a runway. With her true to words six-inch heels and body squeezing bandage dress showing an almost indecent amount of cleavage, she outshines us all.

“Okay, now she definitely looks hot,” Mina gasps. Grace has her hands behind her back, hiding the fluffy tulle veil she and I planned to go along with her shiny satin sash. She holds it out for Mina, to which the bride adds to her ensemble with a rumble of excitement through clickety hops on the marble floor and giddy giggles.

“Where’s everyone else?” Grace asks, fixing Mina’s hair and making sure she doesn’t have a single strand out of place.

“The rest of the bridesmaids are meeting us at the club,” Mina tells us.

“And Andrew too,” Josh adds. With James unable to leave Kendall at home alone with the baby, it looks like it’ll be just Everett and Andrew keeping Josh company tonight.

“You guys ready?” Grace asks, walking toward the busy casino area to take a shortcut to the club.

“Actually,” Everett butts in. “I got a car for us.”

All of us look at Everett, mixed looks of amusement, confusion, and curiosity. “What do you mean, ‘a car?’” Josh asks.

Everett tilts his head in the direction of the sliding doors where hotel attendants are handling luggage and drunk patrons are stumbling across the concrete. Once we’re all outside, following Everett’s lead, all our mouths gape.

“This is your definition of ‘a car?’” Josh grins and grabs Mina’s hand before bolting for the shiny black limo parked out front with the driver nodding a hello at Everett. Everett nods in return before the driver opens the door and Mina scurries inside with Josh at her tail.

“Can you run by me why you two broke up again?” Grace whispers at my side. I nudge her gently with my elbow, avoiding her question with a little deviation. She ignores me and throws a wide grin over her shoulder before following the betrothed couple inside.

“This is very generous of you,” I tell Everett, taking slow teasing steps to his side.

“Only the best for the bride and groom.”

I chuckle, looking up at him with something that’s playful and even a little dangerous. “Well, thank you,” I tell him softly. “I appreciate you doing this for them.”

“Hope you enjoy it too, Teeny.”

“First time in a limo?” I smooth a hand over the lapel of his jacket and smile. “Of course I’m going to enjoy it.”

The distance to the club is short, which makes me question why a car was needed in the first place, but I don’t argue the indulgence of being drenched in LED lighting and expensive champagne. I sit next to Everett during the quick ride while we’re able to each sneak in a small flute of bubbly. The limo shifts during a sharp turn, and when I lean into him, I feel his hand brush against my hip to steady me.

I ignore it, though it takes a significant amount of effort with the alcohol slowly coursing through me. I tilt back the rest of my glass and place it on the mini bar. As soon as the car pulls to a stop, Josh and Mina pour out, the two giggling with their hands all over each other, drunk not only on the champagne, but also on love.

Grace hooks her arm through mine after she adjusts her dress, the act looking racy and seductive as she runs her hands over her curves. “Ready to be my wingman tonight?”

“I believe the PC term is ‘wing person.’”

“Whatever,” she says, waving a hand in my direction. “Just help me get laid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh, throwing a sloppy salute at her followed by a complying flick of my wrist.

As soon as we bypass the thick velvet ropes and walk into the darkly lit foyer of the club, I can barely hear my own thoughts let alone what Grace yells over the noise.

“What?” I yell.

“I said two o’clock! By the large ficus!” She looks at where she’s gesturing to, urging me to look too, and I see two men standing next to a tall decorative plant. They’re dressed in suits, dark and somewhat statuesque, and they’re looking right at us.

“How do you know that’s a ficus? It could totally be a fiddle leaf!” She looks at me like I’ve grown horns out the side of my head, and I offer a sheepish smile. She ignores my question and turns to throw a little wave in the direction of the questionable tree and the two men.

“What are you doing?!” I hiss loudly, gripping her hand mid-wave.

“Getting a little attention!”

“Well, get a little attention alone! When I’m not around!”

“Come on, Teeny! What happened to my wing woman?”

“How about if I just present you at the DJ booth with a cowbell and my starting offer?”

She cackles at the same time a laugh bubbles inside of me. I guess this is what I needed. A night away from reality with my family and friends. And Everett.

“Ready?” I turn just as Everett hovers over me like I’ve summoned him with my thoughts. I feel his hand at my back, and Grace and I look at him, unsure what we’re supposed to be ready for. “They’re showing us to our table.”

I hadn’t even noticed him talking to the hostess, too caught up with some unwanted attention, but next thing I know, we’re being escorted through a noticeably crowded room painted in strobe lights and bad decisions. People are dancing on top of high surfaces, men are approaching women, peacocking their way into their hearts, or their beds.

We stop once we arrive at a private booth, away from the dance floor where I can actually maintain a conversation without feeling like I’m talking over a wood chipper. We sit on plush seats wrapped around a small table filled with ice buckets with hard liquor and more champagne.

There’s a small moment of peace where we decide where we’re going to sit and what drinks we’ll concoct out of what’s available for us before we’re interrupted by the gaggle of the remaining wedding party. Mina’s bridesmaids enter the booth before stealing her away to the dance floor, to which she goes willingly.

“I’m going to go back to see if our new friends have made their way to the dance floor,” Grace tells me, her hand cupped against my ear. “You want to join me?”

I eye Everett, him and Josh exchanging some words I can’t hear over the noise. “You go ahead,” I tell her. “Just be careful. And use protection!”

Grace slides out of the booth and scurries off without a second glance.

“Andrew’s here,” Josh announces, his eyes on his phone. “He’s having some trouble getting past the bouncer. I’ll be right back.”

Josh leaves, and it’s just me and Everett. Me and Everett and enough alcohol to lower not only my inhibitions but also my restraint with about twelve inches of space between us.

“You want a drink?” Everett says, his voice heightened and enunciated.

I nod, and he reaches into one of the buckets, lifting the top of a drink hidden under all the ice. He pulls out a single serving bottle, and I cackle a laugh.

“A Smirnoff Ice?”

Everett smiles, and something blooms inside me. It feels familiar and good. Like really, really good. “Only the best.”

He twists off the top with his fingers and hands it to me before retrieving a bottle of his own. “For old times’ sake.”

I clink my bottle to his with a wide, cheesy grin. I take a sip at the same time Everett does, our eyes locked on each other, and when we pull our lips away from the narrow opening, our expressions are pensive, almost disapproving. “Did it always taste like that?”

Everett laughs. “Perhaps we need something more fitting to our matured taste buds.”

He takes the bottle from me and sets it down on the table. “Did you want something else?” He gestures a hand toward the bottles in front of him.

I shake my head. “I think I’m going to go to the bar,” I tell him. “Maybe see if Grace needs rescuing.”

“You want me to come with?”

His offer feels tempting but a little risky, especially after our afternoon by the pool.

“I’m good.” I stand before I change my mind on his offer and head to the main bar. It feels like it’s gotten even more crowded within the fifteen minutes we’ve been here. I bump into a few carelessly moving elbows before I make it to the bar, no Grace in sight. I set out to order myself an espresso martini, hoping it’ll wash out the tangy taste of the Smirnoff Ice, just as a set of arms wrap around my waist.

“Teeny!” a shrill voice screeches into my ear. “Come dance with me!”

“No, no,” I protest, turning to see Mina and the entourage of bridesmaids at her side. Her tiara’s lopsided, and she now has a beaded necklace around her neck. The kind that people throw around at Mardi Gras. Only this one has a flimsy plastic shot glass attached to it. “No dancing for me. I’m just going to order a drink.”

“Come on!”

One of Mina’s friends, who I haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet, gently tugs at my hand. “Hi! I’m Cecelia! Maid of honor!”

“Oh, hi! It’s nice to meet you!”

“Mina said we need to get all the girls on the dance floor,” she tells me, playfully tugging at my hand again.

“And we never say no to the bride, right?” I answer, laughing at the way Mina has her arms in the air like those blow-up guys at car dealerships with wide smiles and lanky arms.

I reluctantly walk away from the bar and follow Cecelia’s lead. I’m standing there, awkwardly swaying, while everyone moves along to the music, some pop remix I can barely recognize over the thumping bass. Just as the crowd thickens to the point of sardine can crampedness, I’m pushed forward at the same time the heel of someone’s foot decides my bare toes are a good place to ground.

I suck in a loud breath, though it isn’t heard over the noise. No one sees what’s happened, but I turn to Cecelia. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” I tell her, holding back the grimace from the pain shooting up my foot.

“You want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” I say over the noise. “Keep an eye on the bride.”

We both turn to see Mina with her arms wrapped around a woman we don’t know. They’re both swaying in an embrace like they’re lovers, and Cecelia steps in to intervene.

I turn back to our booth, trying my hardest not to limp, when I see that there’s blood lining the knuckles on my toes. When I finally make it to where Josh, Andrew, and Everett are sitting and sipping on glass tumblers filled with something amber colored, they all turn to see me hobbling to the edge of the cushioned seat.

“What happened?” Andrew asks.

“Someone stepped on me on the dance floor,” I explain, reaching for a napkin to wipe away the blood now pooling around the open wounds. “I warned Mina about my rusty dancing skills.”

I pull away the napkin to see that the gash is a lot bigger than I thought. What the hell? Was this person wearing cleats? My second and third toe start to look mottled with red and purple spots, the telltale signs of the swelling and bruising to come, and I just hope that’s the extent of my injury instead of broken bones underneath the surface.

Warm hands wrap around my ankle, carefully undoing the straps of my shoe with calm and ease. Next thing I know, I see Everett kneeling in front of me with a large cloth napkin wrapped around a bundle of ice pressed to my toes. I flinch from the painful pressure, and Everett peers up at me with worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, though I can barely hear him. I can read his lips, talking to me with concern. Yet his hands move calmly, a complete contrast to the stress covering his face.

“Um, yeah,” I tell him, my foot still in his hands. “I’m fine. But I think I should call it a night. I can just take a cab back to the hotel.”

“We can take the limo back,” he tells me.

“We?”

He turns to my brothers, the three exchanging a quick set of words, before they nod at Everett. “I’m going to get you back to the hotel,” Everett tells me. “And I’ll send the car back for them when they’re done.”

“Oh, no. Everett. It’s really fine. I can go on my own.” I take my shoe laying on the floor and start to carefully guide my foot through the tight straps. When the hard buckle grazes my cut, I wince.

Everett ignores my protest and wraps his arm under mine, easily hoisting me up and supporting my weight. “Just let me take you.”

One look at Everett, and I know it’s a pointless objection. He’s dead set on getting me back to my room himself. I give up and wave at Josh and Andrew as we walk by. “Tell Mina that I’m really sorry,” I tell Josh. “And I’ll make it up to her tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Josh says.

“And make sure you ice that,” Andrew instructs. I throw them both a thumbs up and shuffle off in Everett’s arms.

Once we’re outside, it’s about twenty feet from the door to the car waiting on the sidewalk, but it feels like a hundred. I take the first step slowly, using Everett for support. After the first five steps, I feel my feet sweep out from under me.

“What are you doing?” I gasp, my eyes round in shock as Everett scoops me up against his chest.

“It’s easier this way.”

“Oh my god, Everett,” I cry, covering my face with my hand. “Please put me down.”

“We’re right here, Teen.”

“This is so embarrassing.”

“Stop complaining,” he playfully argues. “Plus, it’ll keep the drunk creeps away.”

“Oh, so that’s the plan,” I comment. “This has nothing to do with the damsel in distress situation I’m in.”

I feel Everett’s chuckle rumbling through his chest, and I laugh too. His cheeky smile, my awkwardness, our easy playful banter. It all makes me feel like a kid again, my heart so full of hope and optimism. So blind to the future that lies ahead of me.

The driver standing with his hand clasped in front of him opens the door for us as soon as we reach it. I hop in, being careful not to bump my already feeble foot against yet another hard surface, and Everett follows.

The car pulls out of the narrow driveway in front of the club, and we leave behind the loud noise and flashy lights and expensive alcohol. Well, I guess not the expensive alcohol since we seem to have quite a selection inside the limo. Everett reaches for the open bottle resting in the bucket of ice dripping with condensation.

He takes a long pull and shrugs. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

I extend my hand, requesting a share. “I guess not.”

“So, I guess I was wrong.”

I take a long sip. “About what?”

“About walking around the Las Vegas strip in high heels not being such a bad time.”

The alcohol starts to course through me, and I hand the bottle, now more than half empty, back to Everett. He takes it by the narrow neck and tilts back another long pull.

“I warned you.”

He nods. “You did.”

Before we know it, the bottle’s empty and we’ve pulled into the entrance of our hotel. I urge Everett to refrain from carrying me, and instead ask that he help support my weight to the elevator. Once inside, I remove the heel from my uninjured foot, looping the straps to both shoes to dangle from my fingers.

“I’m sorry you had to leave early,” I say quietly inside the low hum of the ascending elevator.

“It’s fine.” His words are spoken so gently, the last thing I feel like is a burden. Almost as if he would’ve chosen this had it been up to him. But then again, I guess it was his choice. He could’ve let my brothers handle things. Let them help me into a cab and send me back to my hotel, but he’s the one who offered his help. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity to be my knight in shining armor, and he simply swooped in at the first chance to come to my rescue.

We remain quiet, the tension filling the small space to the point that it feels suffocating. We arrive on my floor, and I expect Everett to watch me get off and be on his way, but he doesn’t. He gets off with me. We reach my room at a slow pace with my limping and Everett matching my steps. The dimly lit hallways make the moment more intimate than it should be just as I reach my room, I pull out my key card.

“Thank you. For walking me back.” My back is to my door, and I peer up at Everett. Without the added advantage of my heels, he’s even more overpowering. His broad shoulders cage me backward like a scared animal, and his eyes look at me in an almost predatory way, flitting up and down my dress with a shadow of darkness and hunger. He hovers over me, inching closer and closer, and he finally stops when he has his hand resting on the door above my head.

His eyes dart to my lips and back to my eyes. “You’re welcome.”

My chest rises and falls, pushing against the tight pressure of my top. I feel my heart racing, and I don’t know what to do. I know I should say good night. I should turn around and swipe my key card against the reader and close the door firmly behind me, but my feet feel like they’ve been set in cement.

Everett doesn’t move away either, and I feel like the space around me is getting smaller and smaller by the second. I press a hand against his stomach, trying to create some distance between us, but it causes him to lean into my touch.

“Ev—” My words are cut off when Everett’s lips crash into mine. My hands immediately grip his waist, tugging him closer to me until our hips are aligned with each other. His hands move over me just as urgently. They start at my back, pushing me against him, and thread up my neck and into my hair. A loud, helpless whimper sounds from the base of my throat, and I feel my back slam into the hard door.

I didn’t know time machines could be real. I thought they were something that only existed in science fiction movies. Usually starring Christopher Lloyd riding through time in a DeLorean or Mr. Peabody giving Sherman history lessons in the WABAC. But right here, kissing Everett, I know I’ve stepped into the most undeniably real time machine to ever exist.

His lips move like they know me. Like they’ve only known me. And his hands roam over parts of me that only he knows exists. Like the curve of my hip or small hollow between my shoulder blades. He lets out a near vulgar grunt that sounds more like a low growl, and I feel him stoop down to my level, deepening our kiss. I respond with a tilt of my head and a swipe of my tongue against his lips. He takes it as an invitation, reading into the moment exactly how I wanted him to, and he tangles his own tongue alongside mine.

My room key is still in my hand, grasped against my palm, and I clumsily tap it against the reader. When the telltale chime of the door unlocking sounds, Everett hoists me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

He finds the bed quickly, his footing catching on the carpeted floor, before we both land on the soft comforter with a light thud. We don’t stop kissing, and a part of me feels like if we did, it would be over. We’d hop off the time machine after a whirlwind trip back to our past, no matter how badly we’d want to stay inside this imaginary capsule.

My fingers start to move frantically down his shirt, undoing each button with shaky hands. He follows my lead, removing it over his head before I’m done with the last few. He presses his forehead against mine, and just like I predicted, this pause gives room for a realization. An interruption we can’t ignore.

“Sorry,” he says through heavy gulps of air. “I’m sorry, Teeny. I couldn’t help it. I—I had to kiss you. I couldn’t hold back anymore.”

My fingers trace over his chin, his mouth, his cheek. And he watches me, taking in the way I let my hands relearn the terrain of his face. It’s all muscle memory. Like knowing where the dip is that connects his ear to his jaw. Or the tiny freckle that’s at the corner of his left nostril.

I don’t know what to say, so I decide to stick with the truth. “I missed you too.”

He doesn’t kiss me again like I expect him to. Instead, he smooths my hair away from my face and cradles my head, cupping his palm to my crown like I’m made of glass. Like he’s been handed this fragile delicate thing, and he’d risk everything to keep it in one piece.

He moves so he’s lying at my side, and I turn to face him, leaning on his bicep with his free hand still roaming over me. Over my hair, along the column of my neck, down my arm. I start tracing along the lines of his tattoo, following the patterns and colors.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into my hair.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s okay.”