Chapter 16
KEATS
Stepping out of the tight embrace, I lower my head to pinch the bridge of my nose. I know she’s not real, but this happens sometimes.
Sosie’s become a figment of my imagination.
I once sat across from her at the ramen restaurant we visited.
That was real. The other time I went, I swear I could see her smile and hear her laughter like we were together that time, too.
The illusion was ruined when the bill was set in front of me, with only a meal for one listed.
I used to feel her presence haunting my old apartment. I could see her in my bed and feel her beneath me. I held on to her so tightly when I’d fall asleep, but when I woke up, my arms were empty.
She’s become a dream I can’t wake up from, even imagining her running to catch up to me on the subway. The hallucinations used to be bad, but I thought I’d shaken them. It never made sense that a woman I knew for one night would have such an everlasting effect on the rest of my life.
I gave up making sense of my fascination with Sosie Stansbury years prior, so I’m not getting sucked back in again. She’s not real, Keats. She’s nothing more than my mind playing tricks on me.
Taylor grabs my wrist like we’re on personal terms. We’re not.
We haven’t been before she hugged me like she might want to cross that line.
I look at her. There’s no denying any guy would find her attractive with her classical features, but there’s no pull between us.
Not for me anyhow. She says, “We got the deal.”
“What deal?”
“The book deal. You know, the one we’ve had out on submission for more than a year now?”
I say the words, but the shock is there. “We got the book deal . . .”
“Yes. Now, come on upstairs.” She grabs my hand like this is something we do and drags me toward the stairs in the hallway. “They’re waiting at the party for you so they can make the announcement.”
Releasing me, she’s three steps ahead when I stop at the bottom. My soul is unsettled by the sudden appearance of my past staring back at me. “I think I need a few minutes.”
Taylor stops and looks back at me. “What do you mean?”
I thumb over my shoulder, and reply, “Fresh air. It’s warm in here. I’m going to get some fresh air, and then I’ll be there.”
“I can go with you.” She takes a step before I raise my hand.
“I need a minute to process that this is happening.”
She laughs, but it dies off into sympathy, which levels her smile.
“It’s a lot. I get it. You’ve worked for years for this book deal.
” She tucks her hair behind her ear, and says, “Take a few minutes, then come join us, okay?” She doesn’t wait for an answer.
I’m not sure what I would say anyway. I’d sound like I’m losing my grip on reality if I explained the real reason I need a moment to recuperate.
I cut through the crowd and push through the exit to land in the dead of winter on the sidewalk. The bite of cold air shocks my system, instantly cooling my heated skin. My scrambling thoughts start to slow, and I regain some perspective. See? She’s all in my head.
In my veins.
Living carelessly in my heart like she belongs.
Will I never be free from that night?
No. Not as long as the torch I carry inside remains lit. And there’s no snuffing that out anytime soon. She’s got a vise grip on my affections that I can’t seem to shake loose.
“Keats?”
I squeeze my eyes closed, refusing to allow myself to start hearing things as well. When I reopen them, cars are still lining the curb, the light is now red instead of green, and the number of people out this late on a holiday still amazes me.
“Hi,” she says, her voice barely above the shiver in her tone.
My shoulders drop, knowing I can no longer pretend. I turn back to see Sosie standing there in her shimmering dress, her eyes still holding an ember of hope. I don’t know what to say, so I stare at her, wondering if she can fill in the blanks.
She takes a tentative step forward. The smile I remember is absent from her face.
Instead, I look into eyes that hold concern.
Concern for what? That I’ll escape? There’s no escaping her.
I’ve tried for years, and we still end up rotating in each other’s orbit as if our magnetic paths were always meant to cross. Again. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
With a shrug, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. Just felt like I needed to apologize to you.”
She was always too beautiful for her own good, almost oblivious to how breathtaking she was.
Still is. If she’s the same as she used to be, I bet she’d find that annoying.
Sosie’s heart always ran deeper than the superficial stuff.
She was twenty when we met. It doesn't seem as long as the years claim, but looking at her now is like seeing who she was for a brief second of my life and then blinking.
Her features are more refined, her hair perfectly in place, wearing expensive everything.
The woman she claimed she never wanted to be now stands before me.
Why does she have to be so damn stunning?
Will I never learn?
I reply, “You don’t.” Although New York is alive with the sounds of horns and chatter, the wind that blows down the avenue, and life happening around us, silence fills the space between us. “Your hair is a lot lighter.”
She’s quick to touch it like she’d forgotten it was there. Pulling the clip holding her hair together in the back, the long lengths tumble down over her shoulders. “It’s . . .” She toys with the ends on her left side as if some nerves have kicked in, and says, “Yes, it is.”
Her skin is paler, not like she’s seen a ghost, but more as if she hasn’t seen the sun in too long. It’s December. What do I expect? I just remember a natural flush that covered her so six years ago. Goose bumps cover her this time. “Why do you never have a coat?”
She laughs, rubbing her hands over her arms. “I don’t know.” Glancing back through the windows of the pub, she says, “I didn’t want to miss you.”
“Anymore?” I still can’t manage a smile, my insides feeling too raw with the emotions she drags from the graveyard every time I see her.
I slip my coat off and move closer to her.
I don’t know what to expect—her to move from my reach or to allow me into her personal space again.
I move behind her. When I slide her hair to one side of her neck, my fingers graze her skin, leaving more goose bumps to react to my touch.
I could stand there all day tracing the graceful line of her neck with my gaze and counting the freckles that dot across her skin.
I don’t because she’s another man’s wife.
I set the coat over her shoulder, and when she’s quicker than I am at lifting her hair, I wrap it around that side of her body as well.
Coming around to the front, I remain closer this time as if the pull is too strong for me to fight.
She slips her arms into the sleeves and then pulls it closed in the front.
“Is this the same coat you had back then?”
It swallows her whole, but she looks so damn good in it. “It still has a lot of life left to it.”
“Keats?” she asks, looking straight into my eyes. “I . . .” The bravery that had her edging toward slips when the words disappear from her tongue.
“I hate that this is fucking awkward.”
“Me, too,” she whispers.
Running my hand through my hair, I say, “I told my agent I wouldn’t be long.”
“Your agent?”
I’m not sure if it makes me feel better to clarify what she saw inside, if it’s more for her benefit, or maybe both, but I rub the knit hanging around my neck. “Yeah, she was sharing news we’d been waiting for.”
“Is it good news?” The expectancy in her eyes has a hint of delight, as if she could stand out here shooting the shit with me all night.
That’s just not who we are anymore. I’m not sure we ever were since we were cut short. “Why did you come out here, Sosie?”
Any joy that dared to gleam in her eyes vanishes, and her gaze drops to the sidewalk between us. “I, um.” When she looks up, she says, “I needed to see you again, Keats.”
“Why? What are you looking for that you don’t have in there?” My gaze tracks with my hand toward the pub. When I look at her again, I say, “You’re married—”
“I’m not.”
“Okay,” I say, shaking my head at this game of semantics. “Engaged? Does that work?” Sarcasm drips from the question, leaving her with raised eyebrows.
“It doesn’t work. No.”
“That big fucking rock on your finger says otherwise, sweetheart.” Yeah, there’s no keeping the annoyance from my tone.
Why am I fighting it anyway? We’re nothing to each other.
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, though the words scrape like a razor blade down my throat, refusing to let them survive long enough to be voiced because I know the truth.
She’s everything. Absolutely every fucking thing in my godforsaken universe.
The stars and the moon, the night winds bringing in the chill, and sunnier days that allow me to forget, for just a minute, that I once experienced something special and lost it.
“Can’t you see?” Defeat mixes with the anger that’s been building for years.
“See what? What can’t I see, Keats?” I can appreciate the edge of impatience in her question.
She was strong, could stand on her own, and do what she wanted.
That’s how I remember her. She was a muse, a fairy that only appeared for one night, a siren who put a spell on me that hasn’t broken yet. She was amazing.
When I dare to look at her again, admittedly, she is still incredible in my eyes. But is she still that strong, enough to fend off the life she deemed her fate? Not if that ring on her finger is any indication. “You gave them what they wanted.”