Carpe Diem (22 page)

Everyone laughs. I caught a glimpse of Abby holding up her cell phone, no doubt there will be several videos of this evening to prove exactly how drunk I was.

As Flynn takes the first step up the staircase, I give in to the comfort of his arms. I lay my head on his shoulder and take a deep breath. I can’t help but take in his scent. God, he smells good. I cannot pinpoint the cologne, but it is very cool and sweet with a very masculine undertone.

Flynn reaches my bed and gently pulls the comforter down then lays me down. I reluctantly let go of his neck. His embrace was intoxicating. I didn’t want to let him go. This was the first time I have been in a man’s arms since Jack. I forgot how much I missed feeling that kind of warmth.

I’m not sure if it was the alcohol, the mood, or what that made me grasp Flynn’s neck as he bent down to pull the comforter over me. He didn’t pull away and I took that as my signal.

I pull him closer to me and touch his lips to mine once again. His lips are soft, so soft. His scent invading me.

“Wait, stop,” Flynn says as he pulls away.

“What? Why?”

“Piper, you’re drunk.”

“Yes I am. Don’t you want to take advantage of that?” I smile.

“Not at the expense of our friendship.”

“If you were a real friend you would help a friend out. I mean you’re a man, I’m a woman, and we can do things and help fill in the holes.” I can feel the emotions flooding in as the words come out of me.

“Piper, doing this isn’t going to fill any holes, and you will regret it in the morning,” Flynn tells me as he caresses my cheek.

“I just miss this so much. Having someone to hold and keep me warm. To know that there is someone else to take care of me and me to take care of them…” I trail off with the tears start to flow.

“I know, we all miss him.”

“Can you stay with me, hold me, nothing more.”

Flynn doesn’t say a word. He stands to take off his shoes and jacket. He turns off the light and crawls in to bed beside me. A moment later, he pulls me close into his embrace. For the first time in a year and a half, I feel a tranquil bliss fall over me.

T
he morning creeps up on me. I feel like I just fell asleep yet the sun is up. Looking to the windows, the bright light forces me to close my eyes.

“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself.

My head is pounding and my eyes scream at me each time I open them. What the hell did I drink last night and how much did I have?

“Kill me, kill me now.”

“Sure. How do you want me to do it.”

I jump at the sound of Flynn’s voice. My eyes pop open and I see him standing in the doorway holding two coffee cups.

“Flynn! You scared the shit out of me,” I yell, grabbing my head when it starts vibrating with the sound of my voice.

“Sorry, I thought you would be in need of some coffee when you woke up,” he tells me as he crosses the room toward me.

When he hands me the warm mug filled with the brown liquid of life I so desire right now, a foggy memory comes to me.

I look into his eyes for any sign that the memory is real. As far as I can tell, he seems completely normal. No signs of weirdness or confusion that would certainly be there if we had, in fact, kissed and then spooned all night long.

Flynn is sitting quietly sipping his coffee. He is giving me the silence he knows I need to allow my hung-over brain to wake up. The more I look at him, the more comes back to me. A fight, no not a fight, an argument. An argument with Kyle.

“Your memory starting to catch up with you?” Flynn asks.

“Um, yes. But I’m not sure if it is a memory or a dream… did we… kiss?”

“Twice.” Flynn smiles.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I was
sloppy drunk make out girl
last night, wasn’t I?” I cringe as I ask.

“No, not really. You kissed me at midnight and then again when I put you to bed.”

“I am so sorry Flynn, I’m mortified.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I think the begging to spoon with me was the real low point of the evening for you.” He chuckles.

“Are you kidding me right now? I spooned you?”

“No, no, I was the big spoon.” He smiles and takes another sip of coffee.

The memory of feeling desperate to be held rushes over me. In all the time that Jack has been gone, and all the times I have wished to be able to touch him again, I had never felt the need for a man’s touch that strongly until last night. I could brush it off to my blood alcohol level or that it was New Year’s Eve but I have a strange feeling that it is more than that. No, I cannot let my brain go there right now. It will take way more brainpower than I am able to give at this particular moment.

“Flynn…I…” I start.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. We all have those nights,” he says, smiling.

“But, I…”

“No need to talk it out, its fine…”

“Okay, but I do have another question.”

He doesn’t respond with words. His body tightens up, his face turns hard, and there is a hint of anger in his eyes.

Wow, I don’t ever remember seeing him like this. Yes, I have seen him mad and pissed off, but this is a whole new level.

“Um, I’m going to guess by your reaction that you already know that I am going to ask if there was something going on with Kyle last night,” I tell him.

“Yes, I think it would be a good idea if you didn’t see him again,” he tells me sternly.

“Okay, can you tell me why?” I ask.

“It’s not up to me to tell you. He should have told you the moment you met.”

“So why don’t you tell me.”

“Because I think he needs to take responsibility for his deceit.”

“My God, Flynn. What is going on? Who is he?” I demand.

“Piper, that is a conversation you will need to have with him. He said he would call you later today and I will give him today. If he fails, then his secret is mine to tell you tomorrow.”

“Secret? Flynn, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry, Piper, you need to talk to Kyle.”

I can see in his eyes this conversation is going nowhere fast. He has made up his mind and that was the end of that story.

“I should get going,” Flynn tells me.

“Are you sure?” I ask. Although he isn’t giving me any answers, it is always nice to have him here.

“Yes, I’m going to head out. I could use a change of clothes.” He smiles, pulling at his extremely wrinkled dress shirt

“I suppose I could use a long shower myself.”

Flynn walks over to the chair in the corner and grabs his suit jacket and shoes. He offers a smile as he leaves the room. A few moments later I hear the front door close and I am once again alone.

A few hours later, I am showered and my tummy is full of greasy bacon and eggs, ’cause that always helps with a hangover for some reason. Next on my list is to clean the house. We are not super messy party people like we were fifteen years ago and it looks like Abby and Casey must have done a once-over before they left, thankfully.

I’m about to dive in when my cell phone rings. I look at the display and see it is Kyle. I thought about calling him the moment Flynn left, but given my head was going to explode, I decided to wait and see if he called.

“Hello.”

“Hi, how are you feeling?” Kyle asks.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s been a pretty rough morning.”

“I bet it has been, do you remember much of last night?’

“Not in great detail but I do have some flashes.”

“Oh, so you do remember…”

“Yes, I remember you seem to have something to tell me about who you are and why I shouldn’t be hanging around you,” I interrupt.

Normally I would not be this straightforward. If someone had something to tell me I would let them tell me in their own time, but given Flynn’s reaction to Kyle, I don’t feel like pussyfooting around the issue today.

There is a long pause. The only reason I know he is still on the line is I can hear his breathing.

“Kyle?”

“I owe you an apology…” he starts.

“Okay, why?”

“I should have told you who I am when we first met. I’m Helen’s husband.”

My heart stops when I hear the name. The name that instantly makes my skin crawl and my blood scream in my veins. The name that forever changed my life and ripped my happiness away.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Kyle Warren and Helen Warren was my wife.”

“What the hell kind of game are you playing here?” I demand.

“It was no game. I had no intention of ever contacting you, but then you came in while I was working and then one thing led to another, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You didn’t know how to tell me? Are you fucking kidding me? How about in the coffee shop when we were talking about her?”

“I didn’t know how to…”

“You know, I was starting to feel sorry for you. I felt like we were the same, like we shared something that no one else could. I thought… I thought…” I say, screaming into the phone.

“What? What did you think? And how am I any different than you? We both lost someone we loved.” he asks.

His question stops my rage in its tracks. He’s right. Why is my loss any more substantial than his is. We both lost someone we loved, should it matter that his wife was the cause?

“You’re right, I am sorry. Your pain should be no different than my pain. I should not have implied that your loss was any less than mine,” I say softly.

“Thank you, but if I am being honest, my pain is so much more than yours,” he tells me calmly.

“How do you mean,” I ask, confused.

“Because the accident is all my fault.”

The phrase catches me off guard. That was the last thing I would have expected him to say. How could this be all his fault?

“Kyle, she was alone in the car… how could this be your fault?”

“Because she was on her way to see me and she was running late,” he tells me.

“I don’t see that how that could be your fault. Wives go to visit their husbands all the time. No one can predict these things,” I tell him.

“Yes. However, a week before, I asked her for a divorce and she was meeting me for breakfast to talk about reconciliation,” he confesses.

My heart breaks for Kyle. He has been carrying this around on his shoulders. This explains a lot about our past conversations.

“Kyle, that still doesn’t make this your fault.”

“How? If I hadn’t been a jackass I wouldn’t have left and she wouldn’t have been driving to meet me so she wouldn’t have been there to kill your husband.”

“Kyle. Stop. I know nothing I say will give you any comfort, but you need to stop thinking that. This is not your fault.”

“But I still loved her. I didn’t want to divorce her, I felt, I wanted, God it’s so stupid,” he mumbles through his tears.

“I forgive you.”

“What? How can you forgive me?”

“Kyle, I will be honest. I am not in a place yet to forgive Helen, and I’m not sure I ever will, but I will never blame you for this. No matter what happened between you two that led her to being there that day, it is not your fault. You did not put the lipstick in her hand and you did not make her hit my husband. You would have no way of knowing that would happen,” I tell him.