Present Day
The past few nights have been great. I went to dinner with Kerry, Stella, and Padraig the night before the ball to celebrate Seamus and Moira, Padraig’s parents, getting back together. The best decision that old man has made in years. We ate. We laughed. And I watched Moira and Seamus and Stella and Padraig dance the night away. Kerry sat with me and observed. We didn’t dance. But we did watch the two couples celebrate a fantastic occasion.
I didn’t go the St. Patrick’s Day ball, but Kerry came over to my apartment after. We sat in front of my window upstairs and spied on the insanity of the crowd while celebrating in our own way. Irish whiskey, Guinness, and later on—after the crowd finally died down and there was nothing more to amuse us from the streets—sex. Extraordinary, mind-blowing sex.
The day after the ball, Kerry texted me and asked me to come to her apartment. I did. She said Stella had given her the rest of the week off and she had no plans whatsoever.
We spent three days in her apartment, wrapped in sheets, naked most of the time, watching old movies, eating takeout, and indulging in each other.
On Saturday morning, she turns to me in bed as we both wake from a heavy sleep.
I look her in the eyes and see something quizzical in them.
“What are you thinking,” I ask.
“I have something to confess to you.”
My heart begins to race, as I have no idea what it is she has to say to me in the form of a confession. Of course, my mind goes to the most negative of possibilities.
Calmly I ask, “What is it?”
“On St. Patrick’s Day, when I stayed over at your place, I found a letter.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. The letter I wrote to her. I had it sitting out next to my easel. I never thought to put it away. I clear my throat. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I didn’t mention it before, because I wondered if I should keep it to myself. I wondered if I shouldn’t tell you, because I assumed you wanted to keep it private.”
“Well, that was the intention. But I didn’t do my due diligence to keep it out of plain sight, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry. I just saw it that morning. I saw that my name was on it, and curiosity got the better of me.”
I look into her eyes to try to gauge what she might say next, but I can’t figure it out.
“I decided to tell you because there were some parts in there describing how you felt about me that I can’t quite seem to get over.” She grazes her hand down the side of my arm and smiles at me. “Good things.”
“Oh, really,” I respond.
“Well, you said that I’m the best thing that has been swept in your direction since you made the decision to open the shop.”
“That is true.”
“And you also said you want to be more with me but you are afraid to move forward.”
“You think that is a good thing?” I ask.
“Of course.”
“That doesn’t freak you out? That I said that? I wrote that weeks ago, when I hardly knew you.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. I want to be something more with you. I have felt that way since the first time I kissed you. I just never thought it was a possibility because you said ‘more’ was off-limits.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure what to say.
“Is that still off-limits? Are you still off-limits?”
I run my hand through my hair. “The only honest thing I can say to that is, ‘I don’t know.’ Kerry, I like you a lot. More than a lot. I won’t deny to you, which you probably read, that I think about you all of the time. But I do not know what it means. I’ve wondered if it’s because the first time I saw you, you were weaving magic with your fingers in that clay and I’d never seen anything like that. At that moment, I was so infatuated with the person I thought you could be. But then you come into my shop. I don’t recognize you as that woman with the clay, and you fascinate me with your uninhibited boldness, and I wonder if that is why I am so drawn to you. But you have this other, completely different side too. Composed and vulnerable at the same time. Driven. Focused. Those are qualities that I feel are reflected in myself, and I wonder if that is what draws me to you.”
“Why can’t it be all of those things?” she asks. “And why do you make all of that sound like a negative thing?”
“I can’t really explain it, Kerry. I feel like . . . my thoughts about you. If I . . . give in to you . . . I might lose.”
“Lose what?”
“Lose you.”
She kisses me, and I feel so much in that kiss. Understanding. Security. Acceptance.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she says. “But I can promise you this—wherever we land, you won’t lose me. I can swear on that. I have never met anyone quite like you, Luca, and I don’t want you to not be a part of my life.”
I inhale a deep, sharp breath. I try not to overinterpret what she is saying to me. I try to embrace the positivity in her words.
“Okay,” is all I can verbally give back on that subject. But it does make me think of something else.
“Since we are sharing intimate secrets, I have something to ask you.”
“Whatever would that be?”
“One night, when you were in my apartment, I tried to set the alarm on your phone so you could wake up early. Your phone was locked, but I noticed that you have a picture of me on your screen.”
She blushes slightly. “I do have a picture of you on my screen.”
“I haven’t been able to, for the life of me, figure out where you got that. I don’t remember you taking a picture of me.”
“I Facebook-stalked you.”
“What?”
“After the night we first, um, hooked up, I Facebook-stalked you.”
Shit. I completely forgot I had a Facebook page. I try to remember the last time I’ve been on Facebook. It’s been ages.
“Can I see the picture?” I ask. She swipes her screen and shows it to me. It’s quite an old picture. Way back before I was the hot tattoo guy.
“This is my profile picture on Facebook.”
Kerry clears her throat. “Yeah, I looked you up on Facebook. It’s a really great pic of you. I snagged it. So I could look at you every day even if I couldn’t see you in person. I’m sorry if that is borderline creepy.”
I try to remember when that picture was taken. I think it was during my senior year of college. And I’m pretty sure it was taken by . . .
Mallory.
Fuck.
Goddammit.
I try not to react adversely to that realization.
“Can I make a suggestion?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Can we maybe take a picture together? You and me? And maybe you can make that the picture on your screen? Because I kind of hate this picture.” I point to her phone.
“I like that idea a lot.”
She positions her phone so she can take a selfie of us. I smile my best smile because I am cheek to cheek with someone I find more comforting than anyone I’ve known before.