Chapter 17
VIVIAN
Wednesday, December 6
I fling my purse onto the sofa and collapse beside it. Exhaustion washes over me. This week at work has been a whirlwind of deadlines, new clients, and preparing for my upcoming trip to Utah. I’m eager for the getaway but determined to avoid working while I’m there, which means cramming extra hours into my days until I leave. No time to dwell on my fatigue, though, Nick is picking me up in an hour for a night out at a winter rooftop bar. He’s been raving about the phenomenal chef and the incredible view of Millennium Park for days. Since weekend reservations are nearly impossible, I suggested we go tonight.
My phone dings with a text.
Leo: Fall semester officially over… Let’s go celebrate?
I glance above his message at the last text I sent him this morning. I hadn’t heard from him all day and had forgotten that today was his last day of the semester.
Vivian: I can’t tonight… I have dinner reservations with Nick. Tried to text you this morning. Congrats on last day tho, yay! Rain check?
Leo: I leave tomorrow…
Vivian: I know! How about later tonight? I can text you when I get back… we’ll have a celebratory to ast.
Leo: Sure. Text me when you get back. Enjoy yourself, love.
Dammit. I really want to spend time with Leo before he leaves tomorrow, and I can’t believe I forgot his last day of the fall semester. Right now, all I want is to slip into my pajamas, curl up on the couch, and watch TV. But I am excited to see Nick. I’m liking him more and more, and while I’m not ready to have sex with him yet, I love kissing him. I grab my purse and walk up the two flights of stairs to my bedroom and stare at the clothes in my closet. What to wear? I choose a black sweater dress and knee-high boots. It’ll be cold, but we’ll only be outside for a minute. I think we plan to Uber to the bar. I freshen up my hair and makeup and stock my cream Valentino tote with my essentials for the evening.
I have thirty minutes to spare, and I’m not about to waste any of them. I turn on Love Island. Leo is always nice enough to watch it with me because he knows I love the mindlessness of it.
Nick texts me that he’s one minute away with the Uber. I grab my wool trench coat, throwing it on as I walk outside, lock up, and walk down the row of townhouses to the street.
As I slide into the Uber and put my seatbelt on, Nick surprises me with a soft kiss on my lips. “Hey, how was your day?” he says sweetly, laying a hand on my thigh. A smile slowly spreads across my face.
I could get used to this.
“It was great,” I say, placing my hand on top of his and interlocking our fingers. “Busy, but great. How was yours?”
“A shitshow,” he laughs, “but it’s better now.”
“Were you in the Naperville area today?” I ask.
“Do you mean—did I swing by the Marionis’ to see how it’s coming along?” He grins.
I laugh. “Yeah… that’s exactly what I meant. So, did you?”
He nods. “I did. It’s going great. I think you’d be pleased with the progress from last week.”
We catch up on work stuff as we drive. There is an ease and comfort with Nick. I’m naturally a little flirtatious. Sarah once told me that I flirted with all men, including her husband, Ryan. She wasn’t mad about it; she was simply pointing out that my communication language with men is flirtatious and that I should hone in on it for the dating world. Nick and I don’t have the same playful banter that Leo and I share, but that’s okay. We have our own thing going on.
We arrive and head up to the thirteenth floor, and holy shit, this place is cool. Nick looks at me and grins. He gets it. A good architectural space is like foreplay for me—it turns me on, and this place is making me all sorts of horny.
“Oh my God, Nick, this place is amazing.”
He just laughs and gives his name to the hostess. As we follow her to our table, I am in awe of the design. The room is under a glass atrium, with one wall entirely made of windows and the opposite featuring one of the longest bars I have ever seen, stretching along the entire length of the room. Lights string across the glass ceiling, casting a warm glow that creates a cozy patio vibe. The design features elegant mid-century modern elements, with clean lines, organic curves, and a mix of wood and metal accents that add a touch of 1950s sophistication.
Once we’re seated and have a chance to look at the menu, we order a charcuterie board because, well, I love a charcuterie. I stick with water since it’s a weekday, and Nick orders an IPA on tap.
“Are you going to the company Christmas party?” Nick asks, his fingers idly tracing patterns on the edge of his glass. The casual question carries an undercurrent of curiosity that makes me pause.
“I’m not,” I say, realizing that I’m actually bummed about it. It would have been fun to go with Nick. “I’ll be in Utah. But I’ll probably go to the work party there. Dang, I really wish we could have gone together. That would have been fun.” I make a sad face.
“Oh, that does suck that you won’t be here. The Walker Homes Christmas parties here are always a blast, and they do not skimp…”
“Oh, I know! I used to help plan them in Utah. Seth would give me the biggest budget, and I’d go all out. I freaking love him; he’s so generous.”
Our drinks arrive, and Nick has the most confused look on his face.
“Wait, you actually know Seth Walker? Like the owner of Walker Homes, Seth Walker? And you know him well enough that you love him?” His eyebrow raises higher and higher with each question.
“Oh my gosh, not like that!” I say, laughing. “He’s my father-in-law—well, to my late husband. Did you not know that?” I ask, surprised, adjusting my napkin on my lap. “You do know my last name is Walker, right?”
He lets out a laugh. “Oh my hell. I did know that, but I never put two and two together. I guess I just thought it was a coincidence.” We laugh together. “Geez, he must be rich as hell.”
My eyes go big as I nod. “Oh yeah. He’s very wealthy, but again, he’s also a good man, and I love working for this company, knowing that. I’ve known him since I was fifteen.” A soft smile of nostalgia creeps across my face.
Nick leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and stares intently at me. “Ben must have been an incredible guy, Vivian, if what you say about his dad is true.” His words are so sincere, so genuine, that I notice I’m not uncomfortable talking about Ben. I’ve always shifted the conversation on dates, not wanting to bring Ben up, but with Nick, it feels safe.
“He really was,” I say, my voice soft. “Thank you for saying that, Nick.”
Our charcuterie board arrives, and we order our entrées. I can’t wait to dig in. Cheese might be the way to my heart… and coffee. I shift the conversation, as I don’t want to dive into my life with Ben any more than we have.
* * * * * * * * * *
We wrap up dinner and call an Uber. As we slide into the back seat, the city lights flicker through the windows, casting a soft glow over us. The driver greets us briefly before focusing on the road ahead, leaving Nick and me in our private bubble.
Nick turns to me, his eyes searching mine with a playful intensity. Without a word, he leans in, his lips meeting mine in a tender kiss. The warmth of his mouth sends a thrill through my body, and I instinctively press closer to him. His hand finds its way to my thigh, grazing it gently and igniting a spark of excitement.
Despite the driver’s presence just a few feet away, I can’t help but lose myself in the moment. The thrill of being kissed so passionately in such a confined space makes my heart race. I am nervous, but that nervousness only heightens the exhilaration I feel.
Nick deepens the kiss, his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles on my thigh. I feel the heat of his touch as his fingers graze the hem of my dress, and I melt into him, savoring every second. His other hand cups my face, holding me close as if I might slip away.
I pull back slightly to catch my breath, a smile playing on my lips. “You know, the driver can see us,” I whisper. Nick’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, a rebellious grin spreading across his face.
“Let him watch,” he murmurs before kissing me again, more urgently this time. My heart pounds in my chest, the mixture of public and private, combined with my nervousness, making every touch and kiss feel electrifying.
As the car nears the townhouses, I feel a pang of disappointment. I don’t want to stop kissing Nick, but I also know that things get complicated when men come inside. As we pull up to the curb, I’m debating whether to ask him to come in or not. Nick gives me one last, lingering kiss, his hand gently squeezing my thigh.
“We should do this more often,” he says with a wink. “I’ll walk you to your door.” He asks the Uber driver if he can wait for him as we get out of the car.
Nick, always the gentleman, walks me to my door and kisses me goodnight with a respectful tenderness, leaving me breathless as I shut the door behind me.
I breathe out slowly, grinning in the darkness of my entryway. That was a lot of fun. I flip a light on and walk across my living room to my kitchen, tossing my coat and purse on the couch as I pass by. I notice the time—10:30 PM .
With a pang of guilt for sort of ditching Leo tonight, I swipe up on my phone to send him a text.
Vivian: Hey you… I’m home. Want me to come over?
Part of me hopes he’s asleep because exhaustion is taking over and I work in the morning, but another part wants to see Leo, even if it’s just for a few minutes before he leaves for the week.
I fill up a glass of water, turning off the lights behind me as I walk back into the living room to put my coat in the closet. Phone in hand, so I don’t miss a text from Leo, I walk upstairs to ready myself for bed.
With my face washed, pajamas on, and eyes half-closed, I sink into the softness of my sheets and stare at my phone. 10:50… no response. The message is left on delivered. Maybe I can catch him in the morning. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.
I really like Nick, and while it may be old-school to enjoy just kissing someone, the benefit of waiting to have sex is that the build-up and anticipation is half the fun, making it all the more exciting when the time comes… if it comes, I remind myself. I can’t help but have doubts that I’ll revert to the same old pattern I’ve had with other guys.
I groan and flip over to my side, picking up my phone again. My message is still marked as delivered. Putting my phone down, I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable and quiet my mind—my fucking ego insisting on analyzing every detail and possibility, making it impossible to sleep.