22. Vivienne
Vivienne
I’m beginning to wish doing my own calligraphy was one battle I’d let my mother win.
Setting the thirty-ninth place card on the stack, I stretch my cramped fingers as a soft rap sounds on the library door.
It opens a second later, revealing Cassian with a steaming mug in his hand and a question in his eyes.
“How did you know I just finished mine?” I ask, glancing at my empty teacup on the desk.
He shrugs as he sets it in front of me. “Telepathy.”
I snort and take a sip. It’s perfect as usual.
“Be nice, or I’ll eat this myself.” He hands me a bar of dark chocolate. The colorful label says it was imported from Madagascar. I tear open the wrapper, and a rich cacao scent greets me.
I break off a corner and let it melt on my tongue. “Where did you get this? It’s delicious.”
Cass heads to the fireplace on the other side of the room. “The shop with the emotional honey.”
“I didn’t even notice you bought anything. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He stacks several logs on the grate, then pulls his Zippo from his pocket. “Got any scrap paper?”
I hand him the small stack of cards I messed up, and he flicks the lighter. A blue flame flares to life and starts consuming the paper. He tosses it onto the wood, watching as it burns. After a few more beats, he stands, and I immediately drop my eyes back to the place card in front of me.
“I’ll be right back,” he says quietly, before slipping out the door.
Wrapping the chocolate back up, I push it aside. The two of us are treading dangerous ground, and it will be much better for everyone if we pretend his gift is nothing more than an apology for snapping at me in the car yesterday. He’s quicksand, and I’d be smart to stay away.
Cass comes back a few minutes later, this time holding his guitar. “Do you mind?” he asks.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard him play. He’s self-conscious about it, despite the fact that he’s quite good.
“I’d love that,” I say, even though it would be wiser if we didn’t spend our evenings together. If I’m not careful, Cass is going to wind his way around my heart and wedge his roots into the tiny cracks of its surface. If that happens, I don’t know how I’ll ever get him out again.
He settles into a chair near the fire and pulls the instrument onto his lap.
Dipping my pen in the inkwell, I keep my attention on the thick linen card in front of me and not on the man sitting only a few yards away. It’s time to focus on what’s important.
It’s raining outside, and the patter of water hitting the mullioned windows combined with Cass’s gentle strums might be the best sound in the world. He switches from tuning to playing, and I turn in surprise at the familiar song.
“You listened to the album,” I say in wonder.
“I did.” He gives me a lopsided, sheepish smile and continues playing Iron & Wine’s “Boy with a Coin.” His eyes flick back and forth between mine as if he’s looking for something. My cheeks heat beneath his gaze, and I shake myself out of my trance and return to my writing.
During the distraction, my pen dribbled ink all over the card I was working on.
I sigh and toss it aside before grabbing a new one.
Pressing the freshly dipped nib to the linen paper, I scrawl the name of one of my parents’ friends.
I’ve only recognized a handful of people on the list so far.
This wedding is starting to feel more and more like my mother’s.
Cass switches to another Iron & Wine song, and I look up instinctively. He not only listened to the album, he learned the music and practiced the songs. There’s no way he’d be able to play them this well otherwise.
My hand jerks, causing the pen to swipe through the middle of the carefully written name. “Damn it.” At this rate, it’ll take me an hour per card to finish.
Cass stops playing. “Is this too distracting?”
“Not at all. It’s beautiful.” The music isn’t distracting. The man making it, on the other hand—
“I can go, if you’d rather,” he says.
My heart drops at the thought of him leaving. “Please don’t. It’s nice to have company.” While I enjoy being on my own, spending time with Cassian doesn’t feel like being with most other people.
His eyes hold mine for several seconds before he resumes strumming. “I remember when you’d sit at that desk and practice calligraphy for hours. When you were done, your hands would be covered in ink.” He laughs softly.
Sighing, I add another card to the discard pile. “I miss it, but I haven’t practiced in so long, which is probably why I keep messing up.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not messing up when you’re doing something you love,” he says.
Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t tell whether I’m relieved or sad that his eyes are on his guitar and not on me. “Maybe not, but I think I’m starting to see double.” I set my pen back in its holder and massage my hands.
“Maybe it’s time for a break,” Cass says.
I bite my lip. “What did you have in mind?”
He sets the guitar in the corner and grabs a wooden box from the table. “How about a game?”
“You want to play chess,” I say, waiting for the punchline.
Shrugging, he places the set on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. “Sure, why not?”
Taking my tea with me, I join him in front of the flickering flames. “Maybe because I smoke your ass every time?”
His dark eyes catch mine, a challenge in their depths. “You could take it easy on me. It wasn’t an extracurricular activity at my school.”
“Is that what you want? For me to go easy on you?”
“I think you know the answer to that.” He sets the last piece in place and nods for me to go first.
Several moves in, I understand where his cockiness is coming from. “You’ve gotten better,” I say, frowning at his Sicilian Defense.
He kicks his legs in front of him and leans against the chair behind him. “I’ve done a little studying.”
“Studying,” I repeat, countering with Nf3.
He slides a pawn to d6. “Yep.”
My brain can’t decide whether to focus on winning the game or making sense of what he’s saying. “Studying chess moves and learning Iron & Wine’s newest album. You’ve been busy.”
Cass shrugs. “Not living with Bash tends to free up your time.”
“He does like to dictate the calendar, doesn’t he,” I say with a smile, keeping my eyes on the board. I try to ignore the way Cass’s hands flex on his thighs and the casual way he watches me with hooded eyes, head resting against the chair.
We finish the game, and even though I win, I had to fight for that victory. Cass wasn’t kidding when he said he’d studied.
While he peruses the bookcase, I tuck each chess piece back in the velvet-lined box and remind myself that I’m getting married in a couple of months. Now is not the time to let another man cloud my thoughts.
“Find anything good?” I ask, stretching out the kinks in my back.
He holds up a copy of Moby Dick with a smirk. “Just a little light reading before bed.”
“Naturally.”
We stand there awkwardly for several seconds, and I wish I could go back in time and erase the past three years, back to the night of the accident and scrub it all clean so we can start over. But since that’s not an option, I hold out my hand like an idiot. “Thanks for . . . everything, Cass.”
He stares at my outstretched hand, and for a second I think he’s not going to take it, but then he does, his warmth encompassing me like a blanket.
The calluses on his palm and fingers brush against my soft skin, and an electric shock passes through me.
Our eyes meet, and with a single tug, he pulls me into his arms.
I don’t have a choice, but even if I did, I’d still choose this one.
I slip my arms around his waist as he holds me close.
It’s a chaste hug, or it would be if my mind wasn’t so intent on ruining me tonight.
The only thing I’m aware of is all the places we’re touching, the strong chest beneath my cheek, the scent of him overwhelming my senses.
One of his hands travels up and down my back, pressing me into him even more and chasing away all the goosebumps his touch creates. His day-old stubble scrapes against my neck, and I feel the light brush of his lips as he makes it better.
Just when I’m convinced the world begins and ends with us right here, he drops his arms and takes a step back. “Sleep well,” he says softly. Before I can reply, he’s gone, leaving me in an empty room with empty hands and an empty heart.
It’s hard to explain the cavern in my chest. It feels like longing, but since that’s inappropriate, I tell myself it’s just loneliness. I miss my friends.
It’s too late to continue working on the place cards. Besides, my heart’s not in it anymore. Scanning the room before turning off the light, I notice a book lying on the side table. Cass must have set it there when he was browsing earlier.
I move to reshelve it when I notice what it is. Wuthering Heights, first edition. Not the most expensive book here by far, but one of my favorites. As I go to replace it, I see a small slip of paper sticking out between the pages. I pull it out and unfold it. Cassian’s familiar scrawl greets me.
Good game, Vivvy.
A firework of pleasure explodes in my chest. We used to leave notes for each other in this book all the time.
I don’t think anyone else ever found out, not even Bash.
I’ll never forget the anticipation of opening it and finding a slip of paper tucked inside.
They were silly little things: meet me at the carriage house tonight and you rode really well today and thank you for sticking up for me with my mum, but they were some of the best summer memories I ever made.
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before why this particular book was lying out. Maybe because Cass and I haven’t done this in years, or maybe because I thought that chapter of our friendship was over.
But maybe it doesn’t have to be. Maybe we can still find a little of that magic before everything changes forever.