Chapter 1
VIVIAN
JULY
18 Months Later
I can’t breathe.
My body jolts upright as I gasp for breath, clutching my chest. Slowly, awareness returns and I recognize my room. I tap my chest in an attempt to slow my breathing.
“Shit.” I exhale shakily.
My heart is pounding, and my shirt is soaked from sweat. I can’t believe this is happening again. Despite having frequent nightmares after the accident, I haven’t had any for months now.
I reluctantly get out of bed and pad across my bedroom to the bathroom, turning on the light. I face myself in the mirror. Flashes of the accident blur in my mind, overwhelming me with grief. I lace my fingers behind my head, taking slow breaths, exhaling as if I’m pushing air through a straw to calm down. My reflection muddles as tears fill my eyes and softly stream down my face.
Pleading, I whisper to myself, “Not again. Not fucking again.”
I scramble to turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face as a moan of sorrow escapes my mouth. Giving up, I back against the wall and slide down, letting the tears soak my face. I hug my knees to my chest and sob. Images of Ben’s smiling face and our beautiful baby girl…Evie, torture me, keeping me from going back to bed.
I cry until the sobs fade into quiet, my body too drained to produce any more tears. Unsure if I’ve been sitting on the floor for minutes or hours, I force myself to stand. Splashing water on my face once more, I dry my eyes and wander aimlessly around the house. I find myself an hour later in a spare bedroom closet, flipping through my high-school yearbook from junior year.
To the girl who turned my ordinary life into something incredible. You make every day worth living. I can’t wait to make more memories with you.
I Love You,
-Ben-
I smile. I remember this day like it was yesterday. It’s the day that I lost my virginity. The last day of junior year for me, and senior year for Ben. I had just turned seventeen four days earlier, and we had been dating for almost two years. Released early from school, we packed into Ben’s Jeep with the top down, along with three other friends, and headed to Ben’s house to pre-party. Our pre-party consisted of going to Cold Stone, taking it back to Ben’s and sitting around. We ate our ice cream, goofed off, laughed, and talked about our future.
There were five of us—Sarah, Greg, Jason, Ben and me. We were all good kids from good families, and none of us had ever had alcohol before. Our friend Chloe was hosting a graduation party that night at her parents’ estate, a ski ranch tucked in the mountains. Ben and I had talked about having sex. I knew that he kept a box of condoms in his nightstand for when we were ready, but I hadn’t been. He was patient, and never pressured me.
Chloe’s house was full of chaos. Her parents were away on business, and it was packed. Kids from down in the valley had even come up. There was alcohol… a lot of alcohol. We had two groups of good friends that merged into one larger group in our high school. Chloe and a handful of others were part of one group, and the five of us were part of the other. Ch loe’s group was always pushing boundaries and exploring, often recklessly with drugs, sex, and alcohol.
The five of us made a boisterous entrance and went straight to the kitchen, saying hi to people on the way. Hip-hop was blasting throughout the house from the speakers in the ceiling. I wore a black fitted dress that was “too short,” according to my mom.
Ben and Greg grabbed beers from the ice bucket.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“We’re having a beer. It’s graduation day. Relax, babe,” Ben said, cracking open his can.
“We just wanna try one, Vivian,” Greg added.
“Do you guys want one?” Chloe chimed in and handed one to me, Sarah and Jason. We all looked at each other, knowing it was wrong; we reluctantly opened them. Ben made a toast, and we all clinked our glasses and drank. I spit mine out immediately. Sarah made a sour face but managed to swallow. The boys, of course, all acted cool. Ben and I made our way to a couch in one of the many living rooms. Placing his arm around my shoulders he leaned back and sipped his beer.
I giggled. “You feel so cool right now.”
“Only because I’m sitting with you.” He patted my knee and let his hand rest there, caressing my bare thigh. His fingertips traced a slow, deliberate path, stirring a fire within me that grew hotter with every touch. My heart raced as I looked at him, overwhelmed by the intensity of my love and the urgent desire to be close. I couldn’t wait another minute to have him. With butterflies in my stomach, I whispered in his ear, “I think I’m ready.”
He gazed into my eyes and just said, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
He sat his half-drunk beer on the console table as we walked out, holding hands, practically running to the Jeep. We drove to his house because his parents were more lenient about us being alone in his room. We raced up the stairs and shut the door behind us. Panting, we stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. A giggle slipped out of me, and I clasped my hand to my mouth to stifle it. He slowly removed my hand, cupping it with both of his hands, and gently brought it to his lips .
“I’m sorry. I must be nervous.” I searched his eyes for security.
“I’m nervous too… We don’t have to do this tonight, Viv.”
“I want to.”
“How about we watch a movie for a bit? It might take the pressure off. We can see where things go.”
“Okay, but I get to pick the movie.”
“Deal.” He led me to his bed where I leaned against him as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Rom-com, action or drama?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “Rom-com.”
We decided to watch Easy A. The irony was not lost on us, considering the movie’s plot is about a girl who lies about losing her virginity.
Laughing, Ben stroked my hair, pressing gentle kisses on my head, neck, and shoulders. Ultimately, I gave in to the nervous sensations in my body and turned to meet his lips. We kissed for a long time while our hands explored each other, lost in the excitement of it all. Things happened so naturally. When it was time, Ben reached for a condom, and with nervous laughter, I helped roll it on. He positioned himself in between my legs and looked so sweetly into my eyes.
“I’ve heard this can hurt for you… the first time.” His voice sounded so sweet and sincere.
“I know,” I replied.
He gently inched his way in and I gasped, gritting my teeth. He paused, checking to see if I was okay. I nodded, and he continued, moving his body back and forth, his speed increasing as the heat and urgency built between us.
When we were finished, Ben lay on his back as I caressed his abdomen. I’ll never forget the cheesy grin he had on his face, like he had just hung the fucking moon.
“God, I love you, Vivian Stone.”
I looked up at him adoringly. He was mine.
“I love you too, Ben Walker.”
I set the yearbook aside and pick up the stack of high school dance photos. I’ve never entirely understood how looking at these memories doesn’t upset me further. Instead, it calms me down. Even though I ache for him to be here with me, I’m able to appreciate the times we had together.
I make it back to bed sometime around three in the morning. Sleep comes quickly, thank God, as my head hit the pillow, getting much needed rest before my workday tomorrow.
* * * * * * * * * *
I’m in my office going over my notes for tomorrow’s meeting when I get a text.
Sarah: Hey, Ryan is having a guys night tonight. You wanna come over? Get some much-needed girl time?
Vivian: Ugh! I wish, I have a date with Bentley.
Sarah: That’s great! You must like him… Didn’t you just go out a few days ago?
Vivian: Yeah… I do. He’s cute. He seems nice enough. Sarah: Cute and nice enough? Come on, Viv, that doesn’t sound like a guy who’s pulling on your heartstrings. That’s it? Cute and nice?
Vivian: No…
Vivian: I’m attracted to him and he’s fun. We have good conversations. So far it’s been pretty easy… and he’s a great kisser. I guess I’m just in my head—this will be our fifth date.
Sarah: You worried he expects you to sleep with him?
Vivian: Yeah… our date on Tuesday was short and sweet. I had to get home early to get some work done and he kissed me on the doorstep… I could tell he wanted t o come in. Idk. The last time he ended up coming inside, we took it pretty far—I told you about that… I told him I wanted to take things slow—now I’m afraid he will think things have been slow enough.
Sarah: Do you want to sleep with him?
Vivian: Ugh. I don’t know, friend. I’ve enjoyed our make-outs, and we definitely have a physical connection… I just feel like it’s too soon… in every way.
Sarah: Well, just be you, hun. Try to be open and vulnerable, but at the end of the day if it’s not the time, it’s not the time .
Vivian: I know… thanks!
Sarah: You’re welcome babe. Just have fun either way! I’ll see you tomorrow morning for our Saturday walk and coffee, right?
Vivian: Yes of course, can't wait!
Sarah sends two kissy-face emojis.
Shit.
I only have twenty minutes until I’m expected on-site at a home to meet my boss. Closing my laptop, I grab my things and rush out the door.
My boss is my father-in-law, Seth Walker. I have always had a great relationship with Ben’s parents, Seth and Jane. Seth started a custom home building company in his late twenties and quickly rose to success. Walker Homes now operates in seventeen states and is consistently ranked among the top ten custom home builders in Utah.
Currently, I am finishing a big project for the Parade of Homes in Park City. I was honored that Seth trusted me enough to not only design the architecture for the home but also to collaborate with my sister-in-law on the interior design. Seth has employed both of his children: Melissa, an interior designer, works extensively in the model homes and with clients, and Ben was a very successful realtor. His dad helped him make his first million by the time he was twenty-four, when he put him in charge of selling a massive condominium complex.
I meet Seth and Melissa at the home and we walk through, critiquing the space and taking notes as we go. Melissa and I still have some last-minute finishing touches to polish up the home and bring it all together, but overall, it’s almost ready for the showcase, which starts in three weeks. The home is absolutely stunning. It’s a two-story open floor plan tucked up on the side of a mountain, with vaulted ceilings lined with wooden beams. The entire back wall of the main living space opens up to the outdoors and a glorious pool that overlooks the entire valley. It has a contemporary yet homey feel, and the art that Melissa picked is sensational. Seth seems overjoyed with our work, and I couldn’t be more proud.
“How are you doing?” Melissa asks as we walk to our cars after Seth has left .
“I’m doing okay.” I force a smile. “I have good days and bad days, like everyone else.”
“You seeing anyone?”
I love Melissa, but I don’t want to talk about my dating life with her. It feels weird, and the guilt eats at me. I know she means well, so I say as little as possible to appease her.
“A little. Nothing serious.”
She stops walking and turns toward me. “You know Ben would want you to be happy, right?”
“Yes. I know that,” I say quietly.
If I had a dollar for every time someone tells me that…
It doesn’t matter how many times I hear it—it doesn’t magically make me feel better.
Melissa smiles and gives me a hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We say goodbye and head our separate ways.
* * * * * * * * * *
Somehow, Bentley and I make it into my bedroom, lips locked. He swiftly pulls my shirt over my head and lays me down on the bed, his hand gliding to my breasts. “Damn, you have great tits,” he says between heated kisses as he rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
Thanks, Ben paid for them.
A moan escapes my lips as the rising heat in my veins gives way to the butterflies in my stomach. I trace a hand slowly down his abdomen while he kisses my neck and breathes into my ear. “I want you, Vivian.” His hand trails from my breast down my abdomen. My heart starts pounding as he works the button on my pants.
Shit. Ben.
I’m racked with guilt as my brain takes over my body. Feeling as if I’ve lost complete control, I grab his hand while a panicked “NO” escapes my mouth .
Bentley stops abruptly. “What’s the matter?”
Is that… disappointment in his voice?
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I think I need to take things slower.”
“Slower? Jesus, it’s been a month.”
“I know,” I say, my voice wavering. “I’m not ready yet.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re just gonna leave me like this? Will you at least finish me off?”
Is he serious?
Offended, I unwillingly scowl, “Um… no, I don’t think I’d be comfortable with that.”
He grumbles a “fuck this” under his breath and abruptly stands up, aggressively putting his shirt back on.
“Are you mad at me?” I push myself off the bed to level the playing field while grabbing my shirt as well.
He doesn’t say anything as he walks out of my bedroom down the hall to find his shoes. “Let’s just say this isn’t going to work, Vivian.”
“Okay, wow! Are you serious? You're mad because I won't have sex with you?”
What. A. Dick.
“Look, Vivian.” He fumbles for words. “You’re super hot, and I’ve been more than patient, but I’ve taken you out five times!” He isn’t shouting, but his voice is definitely elevated as he slips his second shoe on.
“Oh, and that means you're entitled to have sex with me?” I meet his tone while crossing my arms. I’m angry. No… I’m seething!
“Whatever, Vivian, I’m not wasting any more time on you.” He reaches for the door.
“Good! Go, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” I practically shout as I slam the door behind him.
What in the actual fuck?
I slip into my sandals and wait for his car to drive off before stumbling outside, desperate for fresh air. I inhale deeply.
Bentley is a dick. I hastily walk down the driveway and head automatically toward Sarah’s house .
At least I know now. Better to find out what an asshat he is before wasting any more time on him. Even better that I didn’t sleep with him.
The truth is, I’ve only ever slept with two people: Ben, obviously, and a guy named Chris, who I dated briefly in college while Ben and I had broken up. I wasn’t intoxicated, but I was tipsy, and he knew he was taking advantage of me. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d been sober. I was still so in love with Ben. My heart broke when I woke up in Chris’s bed the next morning, both of us naked. Nausea overwhelmed me.
Ben had been understanding. Of course, he was furious with Chris, but he told me that, as jealous as he was, it was good that I got it out of my system and needed that time to be free and explore. I’ll never know what I did to deserve someone like him.
Dating, swiping right and left, getting physical with new people—this was all so new to me. I never imagined this being part of my life. I waited seven months after Ben passed before I went on my first date. I wasn’t really ready, but felt like I needed to try. On that first date, I cried so hard the poor guy didn’t know what to do with me. He was very respectful, kind, and brought me home. I remember he gave me a hug and told me to call a counselor.
I laugh to myself at the memory.
I waited another three months before I tried again. Having had almost a full year to grieve and plenty of ongoing therapy, I agreed to go on a date with a guy a friend at work had set me up with. That one had been uncomfortably awkward from the moment I met him for dinner. I was withdrawn, trying to discover who I was without Ben. I thought ten months would be enough time to figure it out, but that date had bombed as well.
I continued to date, needing to practice being uncomfortable. Each date got a little easier as I found bits and pieces of myself again. I got better at flirting and was laughing more frequently. They were all one-time dates, so they never went anywhere physically besides an occasional brief kiss on the doorstep.
Five months ago, I picked up the pace and made it a goal to go on one date each weekend. A few led to multiple dates, but they all ended the same way: me, panicking about the possibility of having sex with someone who isn’t Ben, or someone who isn’t Ben trying to have sex with me.
I reach Sarah’s house, but the lights are off. I glance at my watch—it’s 11:50. I didn’t realize it was so late. Turning around, I head back to my house, admiring the adorable homes on my street. The night is perfectly warm, and the crickets are out—my favorite. After the accident, I moved to Sugarhouse, an eclectic neighborhood surrounded by walkable bars and restaurants. At the time, I had work projects in the southern suburbs of Salt Lake City and couldn’t bear driving through the canyon. Panic attacks would force me to pull over, so I just moved. I Airbnb our home in Park City. It’s a beautiful house that I designed and built with Walker Homes. Seth gave it to us at cost as a wedding gift, and even put a large down payment on it.
Being close to Sarah and Ryan has not only been the greatest thing for my healing but fun as well. They include me in Sunday dinners and constantly introduce me to new people. I have felt so much love and support from them.
I try to process what happened tonight as much as I can before turning off the lights and heading to bed.
Bentley... Ugh. Fuck him!
* * * * * * * * * *
I wait for Sarah on the porch. As she approaches my driveway, I cut across the lawn to meet her, prepared to crush her spirit. She is grinning at me.
“Tell me everything!” she exclaims. Her eyes filled with hope.
I raise an eyebrow, giving her a look that clearly asks, “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Oh no, that bad?”
“Worse,” I say, as I begin recounting what happened with Bentley.
We round the corner to the coffee shop, a block from my house.
“Are you joking?” she says, her voice resonating with disbelief .
“I wish I was joking, what’s wrong with me, friend?”
“What do you mean, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ What’s wrong with Bentley? That’s the real question. He’s an ass, Viv. Only a shitty person could respond to what happened last night the way he did. You dodged a bullet, babe.”
It’s my turn to order. I ask for two grande lattes with extra foam.
“I know. I really do know that, and thank God I’m not wasting any more time on him.”
We step aside to wait for our lattes.
“I hope he wakes up this morning with balls so blue, he looks like a Smurf.”
Her comment pulls a smile from me. “I doubt that,” I scoff. “He probably jerked off on the car ride home. Didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could last very long… if you get my drift.”
We grab our lattes when my name is called and start walking toward Sugarhouse Park.
“Could you imagine if you had slept with him? He would have spilled his load in ten seconds, and you’d be lying there thinking, ‘I held out all this time for that?’ No, that’s not acceptable. When you find someone you’re ready to go all the way with…” She grabs my hand and looks at me intently. “And you will find someone,” she says fervently. “Fireworks are going to explode from pleasure. You’ll lie there afterward, knowing that Ben would be happy for you, and you will be so grateful you didn’t waste any more energy on Bentley or any other douchebag.”
I meet my friend’s eyes as we approach the park, trying not to cry.
“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand. “Thank you for that.” Sarah always knows how to lighten the mood and lift my spirits.
The conversation shifts to more uplifting topics: work, Ryan, our families. As we complete our loop—1.4 miles—I stop her.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Anything,” she says.
“I’ve been thinking about something… for about a month now. I didn’t want to talk to you about it until I knew it was a possibility. This wh ole experience with Bentley is solidifying my feelings, but I need to know your opinion,” I say wearily.
She shakes her head, coaxing me to continue. “Go on, the suspense is killing me.”
“What are your thoughts on me moving… back to Chicago?”
“What?” Her voice is filled with sadness.
“I don’t know. I just…” I stutter. “I can’t be here anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating all the time. Everything reminds me of Ben. I thought moving down here would help, and it did, at first… but every time I drive that canyon, every time I go to Park City for work, or hell, go anywhere… Ben is everywhere! I have memories of him all over—Salt Lake City, too. I feel like I can’t move forward with these constant reminders of him. Not to mention that there is a new mother on every fucking corner in this city, reminding me that I am not! Every day, I feel like I’m struggling to breathe.” I don’t bother trying to stop the tears.
“Friend,” Sarah says, wiping the tears from my cheeks with her thumbs. “You don’t need my approval to make this decision. You need to do what feels right for you. And if this is what feels right…” She pauses. “As much as I’d miss you, I would be so happy for you to try something new.”
“But I need to know what you think, Sarah.”
“Why? I support you. Period.”
“Because you’re a therapist. I value your opinion.”
“But I’m not your therapist, I’m your friend.”
“My best friend! And a therapist… Come on, pretend I’m a client of yours. What would you tell me?”
She looks at me thoughtfully. “It’s a big decision, and I understand why you feel like moving away might help you heal. I’m sure you have weighed the pros and cons. My only advice would be to make sure you are moving for the right reasons. Do you know why you want to move to Chicago? Or are you simply trying to run away from the hard?”
“Ouch.” I say, scrunching up my face. I pause, letting her words sink in before continuing. “I’m not entirely sure. When I first considered moving, it was definitely about running away.” I exhale slowly, glancing off to the side as if searching for the right words. “But the more I’ve pursued it, the more it feels right. Everything seems to be aligning perfectly, like this is the path I should take.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I talked to Seth about it, and he said I could transfer to the Chicago office. They have a lot of work there, and are always in need of design architects.” I can’t help but smile slightly. “He even offered to buy a place as an investment property. We found a gorgeous condo right on the river. He’ll pay to furnish it, but I get to pick everything out and can live there for free for one year as a work expense.”
I stop for a moment, gazing at the mountains in the distance before turning back to Sarah. “I hate winter, and from what I remember as a teenager, Chicago is brutally cold for months, but…” I shrug, letting out a soft sigh. “I’ll be right on the river, and it will be an adventure! I’m still not sure if I’m not entirely running away, but when I think about it…” My voice trails off, and as I say it out loud, the weight of my decision seems to lift, as if speaking it into existence and having Sarah’s support is making it all feel right. “I’m excited, and I’ll get to spend time with my friend Kara. I’m sad to leave friends and family, but worst-case scenario, it’s only a year.”
Kara is my childhood friend. She lived on the same street as me growing up. I’ve visited her every year since I was fifteen.
“I think it sounds like a great opportunity.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
I sigh with relief, drying my eyes, and Sarah hugs me. “When do you think you will move?”
“Mid-August. After the Parade of Homes.”
“No, that’s too soon!” Sarah laugh-cries. “You have to let me throw you a big going-away party. I’ll rent a cool space, maybe at the country club, and we’ll invite everyone.” She’s ecstatic.
“You don’t need to convince me… you had me at ‘party.’” Sarah lives to throw a party, and I don’t doubt that she’ll throw me the best damn party of the year.