"You want to tell me what's wrong?"
I look over at Ollie to see that he's focused on me, not the stars, and there's no ignoring the concern on his face. "Nothing's wrong," I say, which is sort of the truth and sort of a lie.
"Seriously, Nikki? I know I've fucked some shit up, but I thought we'd gotten past it."
"We have," I say, and I mean it. Orlando McKee and I were practically inseparable until his parents shipped him off to boarding school when he was twelve. We've always had a bond--a connection--and for years he and Jamie were the only ones who knew about the demons in my past. About my sister, my mother. About my fears and my nightmares.
About my cutting.
Yes, he'd butted heads with Damien, but I also know that everything he's done has been because he cares about me. Thankfully, Damien knows that, too, and they've reached a detente. They're never going to be best buds, but at least now they get along.
I think Ollie's grown up a bit in the last few years, too. Even his appearance has changed. He cut the long hair he wore for years, so now he has a short style that he wears with a hint of beard on his chin. And now that he's replaced his glasses with contacts, he has a confident-yet-dreamy look about him. Before, he looked like the lawyer who hides in the back and does research. Now, he looks like a man who can command a courtroom.
Honestly, I like the change, even though at the moment I'm thinking those newly revealed eyes are seeing just a little too much.
He sighs. "Look, if it's none of my business, just say so. But if you need an ear, I'm here."
"I know. Of course I know that. And it's really not a big deal."
He points a finger at me. "Aha! I knew it wasn't nothing."
I smirk. "It's just--oh, hell. Have you ever wondered what would happen if you'd made different choices?"
I see genuine worry on his face. "You and Damien aren't having problems--"
"No!" The answer is fast and honest. "But, wow, you sound really worried."
He doesn't pretend to misunderstand. "There was a time that you and Damien on the outs would have had me opening champagne and singing a jaunty tune. But not anymore. You guys are good together."
"Took you long enough."
He laughs. "I can be slow on the uptake. Like now, for example. If it's not Damien--"
"It is," I say. "But not like you mean. It's just that he bought my office condo. The one I've been saving for. He just wrote a check and, poof, it's mine."
"That unspeakable bastard." His voice--and his expression--are deadpan.
I grimace. "So I'm overreacting?"
He rubs his fingers through his hair and turns to look out over the lake that sparkles in the moonlight. "Oh, hell, Nik, I don't know. You wanted to do it on your own, I get that. But you're not on your own anymore. You're with Damien. Really with him. And no matter what I might have thought at first, that's not a bad thing."
"It's a wonderful thing," I agree.
"But would you have made it without him? This business you've got going despite the fact that most small businesses fail. Would you be turning a profit? Would you be so flush that you could even consider buying your own office space?"
"Exactly." This is the friend that I've missed. The guy I can talk to. Who has known me forever. Who gets me like Jamie does. And, yes, even a bit like Damien does. Or, rather, usually does.
I think of George Bailey and the movie we just watched. "It would be nice to know. To get a glimpse of what it would have been like."
"I get that. I mean, I'll never know if Courtney would have stuck with me if I hadn't fucked around with Jamie. Or how my life would have been different if I'd stayed in New York, or if I'd never left LA after law school. We all pick paths, Nikki. And that's the thing about life. You can't unpick it." His smile is a little sad, a little boyish. "For what it's worth, I think you would have kicked butt in business, even without Damien."
"Me, too," I agree. But I can't quell the little part of me that wishes I knew for certain.
When Damien steps out onto the patio to tell me that the kitchen is tidy and Jackson has gone to bed, I leave Ollie to his communing with the stars and follow my husband back to our bedroom.
"I love you," Damien whispers as I spoon next to him, naked and sleepy. "Wholly and completely."
His words are raw and real, but I also hear the undertone of a question. He knows there's something on my mind. How can he not, this man who knows me so well?
He's probably waiting for me to explain, but I can't. Not tonight with Christmas about to dawn, when I'm sleepy from schnapps and melancholy from the deed and my conversation with Ollie.
So instead, I just reply with the most basic truth of all. "I know," I say. "Your love is like the air I breathe. It's vital. It keeps me alive." I roll over to face him, then gently kiss him. "I love you, too."
He holds me close, and I do feel safe. I do feel warmed.
And, yes, I do feel loved.
But even so, I am not entirely soothed. Not even by Damien's arms tight around me. Because I can't escape the fear that as far as my business is concerned, it is Mrs. Damien Stark who has succeeded, and not Nikki. Not the girl underneath.
That's not a feeling I like.
And as sleep settles over me, I think of Jimmy Stewart. But I don't wonder what the world would be like if I were never born. Instead, I wonder what it would be like if I hadn't met Damien when I did...
Chapter 4
I wake to the feel of a man's body pressed against mine, warm and comforting. My eyes flutter open, and I reach over and grab my smartphone off the battered bedside table that is littered with a half-dozen trade magazines focusing on web applications and smartphone apps.
I glance at the screen--two a.m. on December 24--and I frown, because something about that's not right.
"Hey. You okay?"
The voice is gentle and masculine and familiar, and I roll over to find myself looking into Ollie's sleepy eyes.
Ollie?
I sit up, suddenly confused. "What are you doing here?" But even as I ask the question I realize that here isn't right, either. This is my room in Jamie's condo. There's my desk and my laptop. My dresser that needs refinishing. My favorite math geek T-shir
t tossed negligently over the back of my desk chair. My room. My things. But I'm not supposed to be here.
Where? Where am I supposed to be?
"You look confused. Weird dream?"
"I..."
He tugs me back down. "Don't tell me you're regretting it. Because I'm sure as hell not."
Regretting what?
"I--no." The words come automatically, as if they fit, and it all starts to fall into place.
I remember a night drinking with Jamie and Ollie as we commiserate about Courtney leaving him, this time for good. Or at least so she says.
And then Jamie heading off to bed. And then Ollie kissing me, so sweetly after so many years of just being friends. And then...
And then...?
My head is so damn foggy. "I'm just groggy. I feel so weird."
"Too many drinks and too little sleep." He kisses my nose. "But it was worth the sleep deprivation, wasn't it? And we can sleep in now. Come on, Nik. Four more hours until we need to get up, and I need my beauty sleep even if you don't."
"Right. Sorry." I blink, trying to recall the strange dream I was having. A dream with a big house and a Christmas tree and a man who held me close and kept me safe. A man who wasn't Ollie.
Then who?
I reach out in my mind, trying to find him again. But it's gone, lost upon waking like so many dreams.
And so I succumb to Ollie's demands. I curl up against him and let his steady breathing and the warmth of his palm against my bare skin guide me back into sleep. And, maybe, back into the wonderful dream that now feels lost to me forever...
Chapter 5
The morning sun is streaming in through my bedroom window, and I prop myself up on an elbow and watch as Ollie straightens his tie in the mirror that hangs on my closet door. For a moment, he is focused only on pulling his tie snug, but then he must realize that I'm looking at him, because he meets my eyes in the mirror and grins. "Hey there, beautiful."
Ridiculously, I feel my cheeks warm. "Hey, yourself."
He turns and leans against the door, his focus on me never wavering. "We're good, right? I mean, last night wasn't a mistake?"