Nick

20

“Holy shit!” Jackson startled me out of my nap on the workout bench.

I lurched upright, clutching my chest. “What the hell, man?”

Jackson was looming over me so I slid down the bench. A normal person would have grasped the subtle cue that I was putting some distance between us. Not Jackson. He sat down next to me.

“You slept with Annabelle, didn’t you?” he asked.

My eyes went wide. I had assumed that when he got back from driving Lexi home, he would think I’d gone to bed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. I could feel my face get hot so I tried to cover it by looking pissed off. I was good at pissed off.

“Lupita said you didn’t sleep in your bed,” he said. “And look at you, you’re unconscious at nine o’clock in the morning. That, my brother, is a night well spent.”

Usually, I corrected him when he called me “brother,” but today I was straight up too exhausted to call him on it. Besides, while I’d never admit it to him, I kind of liked it. It gave me a feeling of belonging that had been sorely missing in my life.

“I’m not talking about this,” I said.

“Sure, I get it, a gentleman doesn’t talk about his lady.” He nodded in understanding but his grin was literally from ear to ear. The big idiot.

I felt myself return his smile. I just couldn’t stop it. That was definitely Annabelle’s fault.

“She’s not my lady.” I don’t know why I felt compelled to correct him, but there was a part of me that resisted staking a claim on her, because if I did, I was sure I’d lose her just like I’d lost everyone I’d ever considered my own.

His smile vanished. He raised one eyebrow at me and said, “A man waits a lifetime for a woman like Annabelle. For your own sake, do not fuck this up.”

“There’s nothing to fuck up,” I said. “I don’t do long term and Annabelle knows that.”

He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head, saying what he thought without actually saying it. In Jackson’s opinion, I was too stupid to live.

I thought about defending my position. The old me would have. I would have insisted that no relationship was meant to last more than a season, but it hit me then that I wanted this one to last the three months and possibly more. I had a feeling it would take me at least that long to get enough of whatever this crazy energy was between us. I felt a flash of anxiety at the note I’d left for Annabelle this morning.

It had lacked finesse, endearments, or any sort of charm whatsoever. If I were her, would I show up here at seven, not knowing what to expect? I thought of her with her carefree smile, gypsy eyes, and goddess body. Yes, she would show, because she was reckless and impulsive and I really lo—liked, I really liked that about her.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got this.” I didn’t have shit. I knew it and I knew Jackson knew it, too. Naturally, I did what all damaged men do when faced with uncomfortable emotions. I ignored them. I rose to standing, pleased to see that my leg felt stronger than it had in ages. Had sex been what was missing? I liked that theory. “Come on, let’s get to it.”

We spent the morning working out, and I pushed myself harder than I had ever dared before. I only caught myself smiling stupidly at nothing once or twice, okay four times but that was it. I swear.

---

At seven minutes past seven, I glanced at the clock for what must have been the hundredth time. She was seven minutes late. I glanced down at the guest house, looking for any sign of Annabelle. The lights were out. The place was empty. It could be she hadn’t gotten my note. Or maybe she was blowing me off. Perhaps for her, last night had been a one and done. The amount of unhappiness I felt at the thought was unbecoming, to put it mildly.

I had given the Guzmans and Jackson the night off, assuming that Annabelle would be here with me. When I’d asked Lupita to make a dinner for two that I could heat up later, she had beamed at me, like I hadn’t just asked her to do extra work, and set right to it.

Directions on an index card in her neat hand sat on the quartz countertop, while the prepped food had been stored in the refrigerator until it was ready to be cooked. Salmon on a bed of rice with asparagus, melt-in-your-mouth Parker House rolls, and a papaya mousse for dessert. I really didn’t deserve that woman despite how much I paid her.

I glanced at the clock. Seven ten. She was standing me up. I was sure of it.

I paced, not caring if I had another stroke and my leg gave out and I fell on my face. It would just be a physical manifestation of the emotional angst I was in. In the living room, I slumped onto my couch, feeling defeated and a little depressed. Had last night not meant the same thing to Annabelle that it had to me? What did it mean to me? I slapped that thought away as soon as it flitted into my head.

I was debating what to have with my double portion dinner for one, whiskey or beer, when there was a soft knock on the front door. I bolted upright, did a quick finger-comb of my hair, and smoothed down my shirt.

Christ, I was nervous. I hadn’t been nervous around a woman since I was in middle school and had the misfortune to be in Ms. Madison’s algebra class. There wasn’t a heterosexual boy in that class who didn’t crush on her. It was a wonder any of us were able to pass a class where our hormones ran rampant, leaving us scrambling to find x while wondering y we even had to. Punny, I know.

I strode to the door, not even thinking about my leg, my arm, or my potential for another stroke. I just wanted to see her.

I yanked open the door and there she was. Breathtakingly lovely in a navy dress with a pretty scarf, her hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head.

“Hi.” Her voice was soft. “Just so I know, is this the moment when you kick me out for fraternizing with my landlord?”

“Uh-huh,” I said. I had no idea what she said. I was too busy staring at her, taking in every bit of her from the stray curls that framed her face to her cherry red lipstick to the dress that hugged her curves the way I wanted to.

“What?” She looked stricken.

“Huh?” I shook my head. “No, wait, oh hell . . .”

I couldn’t stand it, the whole two feet of space between us, anymore. I reached out and snatched her close and then I kissed her. Everything in my world clicked right into place the moment my lips met hers.

She was sweet, effervescent Annabelle, and if I could drown in her, I would. I slid my mouth down the side of her neck, tugging her scarf out of the way. Her fingers dug into my hair and she pulled me back and kissed me as if she’d been waiting for this moment all day. A low moan sounded in her throat. It was the same sound she’d made last night, and it hit me like a trigger.

I pulled her into the house and pushed her back against the closed door. I had no idea if we kissed for minutes or hours or days. If I could have spent eternity like this, I would. When she finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing heavily, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. For once, it didn’t cause me any panic. I knew why it was beating so hard. It was because of her. It just wanted to be near her. I totally understood.

“Come on,” Annabelle said. She grabbed my hand with hers. “We have to go.”

“What?” I asked. “But I have dinner.”

“Is it already cooked?” she asked.

“No, just prepped,” I said.

“Good, then it can wait,” she said. “Come on.”

She grabbed my hand in hers and dragged me out the door.

“But where—”

“Trust me,” she said. She didn’t give me a chance to think it over. She pulled me through the door and into the night.

She walked beside me down the steps as if afraid I might collapse and fall at any moment and she’d be there to catch me. I glanced at her. She was on the tall side but she was not muscular. I would squash her like a bug. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped in front of a black Jeep. She opened the passenger door and said, “Sorry I was late. I was out picking this bad boy up. Get in.”

I balked. Leaving the safety of my house was not something I did lightly. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” she said.

“I’m not really a surprise kind of guy,” I said. This was me, trying to be diplomatic. The truth is, I don’t like surprises; in fact, I hate them. “And I don’t go out in public anymore.”

“Trust me,” she said. She stood with the door open as if she had every confidence that I would just climb into the passenger seat like a damn sheep. So I climbed into the Jeep, natch. She ran around the front of the car to the driver’s side.

“Did you buy this today?” I asked.

“Borrowed it,” she said. “Hang on.”

I buckled up and grabbed the armrest on the door. The woman drove like she did everything else—at top speed, all in, giving it one hundred percent.

“Where are we—” I began but she interrupted.

“I’m not telling you,” she said. “But I am confident you’re going to like it.”

She blew through the open gate and headed east on Camelback Road. The city lights whipped past us, and a tingle of excitement crept into my veins. How long had it been since I’d been out of my house in the evening? Ages. I’d been so determined to get my health back to optimum, I considered sleep one of the best things I could do for myself. Subsequently, I was rarely up past ten, last night being a major exception, and I was usually hunkered in for the night by seven. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was seven thirty and I hadn’t even eaten.

I glanced down at myself. When exactly had I become an eighty-five-year-old man? But I knew the answer. My stroke had changed everything for me.

It was cold out. The cloth top of the Jeep kept most of the night air out but not all of it. Annabelle had the heat cranked up, and it blasted over my feet so my bottom half was hot while my upper half was chilled. She must have registered my discomfort because she grabbed a fleecy throw from the back seat and shoved it at me. I wrapped it around both of our shoulders, and she flashed me a grateful smile. It occurred to me that there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to be on the receiving end of that smile.

As she drove us through Scottsdale and the Fort McDowell Yavapai Nation Reservation, I tried not to panic, thinking about how far I was from a hospital if I suddenly needed one. My anxiety spiked and I did some of the calming exercises that Jackson had taught me. We were flying up the Beeline Highway into the Tonto National Forest, and the air was getting cooler, the night darker, and the world quieter.

She peeled off on an exit that was one lane of loose dirt and then she flicked on her high beams. We followed the pitted road into the rocky terrain for several miles. There were no other cars, no other signs of life, and I tried very hard not to have a complete freak-out.

Annabelle consulted her phone two or three times until, satisfied, she pulled into a small dirt lot. A posted sign announced that it was the trailhead for a hike. Sweet baby Jesus, she did not think we were going night hiking, did she? That was a hard no.

She switched off the engine and cut the headlights. Then she began unfastening the cloth top of the Jeep by the light of her phone.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. I was getting impatient.

“Wait for it,” she said. I saw her flash of a smile in the darkness, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to throttle her or kiss her. Oh, who was I kidding? I was only here because I wanted to kiss her until the end of time. Damn it.

When she had the top completely dismantled, she reached over me and pulled the lever on my seat. I went down hard into a full recline and she landed on top of me. My arms went instinctively around her and pulled her close.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi,” I said. Before I lost my train of thought, I asked, “If you won’t tell me what we’re doing here, will you tell me why we’re here?”

“Light pollution,” she said. “We had to get out of it, so we could see.”

“See what?” I asked. We were in the middle of nowhere in the dark. What were we supposed to see? Cactus? Coyotes?

Again she grinned and said, “Wait—”

“For it,” I said. “Yeah, I got that. Is it all right if I kiss you while I’m waiting?”

She glanced at her phone. “Yes, we have a few minutes before it gets good.”

And that, my friends, was how I came to be making out in a borrowed Jeep in the middle of the desert at night. I had just gotten to the point where I felt clothing needed to be removed when Annabelle pulled back and reclined her own seat. She had more blankets that she pulled from the back seat as well as a flask of whiskey, which she handed to me.

“Okay, get ready,” she said.

Get ready for what? My prurient brain had a host of scenarios run through it, and I was about to give her a dirty multiple-choice pop quiz when she grabbed my hand and gasped, “Look!”

In the darkness I could just make out her profile and I noticed she was watching the sky. I turned my head and glanced up. The stars were a million times brighter out here and I had to admire how many there were and how they sparkled like a fistful of glitter that had been thrown across the dark night and stuck.

And then a flash caught my eye. It was gone before I registered what it was. I stared, trying to figure it out. And then, there was another and another. It was as if the sky had come alive, and I marveled at the natural wonder as bright sparks kept flying off in all directions.

“Is that . . . ?” My voice trailed off. I had no words to describe it.

“Shooting stars,” she said. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said. I was whispering as if a loud noise might interrupt the magic.

Annabelle reached between our seats and grabbed my hand in hers and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I know they’re not really shooting stars,” she said. “It’s actually a meteor shower.”

Her hand felt right pressed into mine. It occurred to me that I’d never had this natural rapport with a woman before. It was astonishing and rather delightful.

“I heard about it on KJZZ today,” she explained. “They said tonight was the best night to view the meteors because the moon is just a crescent, but that you had to get out of the city to really be able to see. I’ve never seen one before, and I didn’t want to miss it, so I borrowed Nyah’s Jeep.”

“Who is Nyah?”

“One of my hot tub friends,” she said. There was mischief in her voice, and her grin was a slash of white in the night. Irresistible.

I rose up out of my seat and leaned over her. Then I kissed her. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around my neck and returning my kiss measure for measure. The taste of her, the scent of her, which reminded me of apple blossoms and honey, filled my senses and sent them swimming, mostly south. Reluctantly, I pulled back and collapsed into my seat.

“You know, you didn’t have to drive us all the way out here to see the stars,” I said. “Every time I kiss you, I see stars.”

“Oh, Nick.” She sighed. “I feel the same way.”

We were both silent, as if processing the truth that whatever was between us was something special. It occurred to me that it needed to be handled with extra care. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task, given my history of short unemotional hookups, but I knew that for Annabelle I wanted to try.

“Hey, Nick,” she whispered. “Have you made a wish yet?”

“No, have you?”

“I’ve made a dozen,” she laughed. “Your turn.”

I glanced up and sure enough, in a matter of seconds, a skinny blaze of light shot across the sky. I closed my eyes. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be normal again, I wanted my body to stop giving out on me, I wanted to be who I used to be . . . my thoughts stopped right there.

Would the old me have let Annabelle drag him out of his house and drive him out into the desert to look at shooting stars? Nope. The old me would have been busy making deals, working angles, getting what I wanted when I wanted it with a piece of arm candy hanging on me that was as much a testament to my success as the Rolex I wore or the sports car I drove. It hit me then, like a closed fist to the temple, that I didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

Instead, I found myself wishing for something wholly unexpected. I wished that I could be a better man for Annabelle, for Lexi, and most important, for myself.

“Well?” she asked. “Did you make a wish?”

“I’m working on it,” I said. I glanced at her, catching sight of her profile, the slender nose, full lips, and stubborn chin, barely visible in the dark, and yet still so lovely.

“Is astronomy a hobby of yours?” I asked. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it was. In fact, I was getting to the point where I expected nothing but surprises from Annabelle.

“No, but I follow NASA on their social media, and I love the pictures they share of deep space,” she said. “Looking at star clusters, galaxies, nebulas, and supernovas makes everything down here seem, I don’t know, overwrought and ridiculous, like pesky coworkers or rude salesclerks—”

“Or overbearing landlords,” I added. She laughed, which had been my intention, and it made my chest thrum with pleasure.

“Yes, well, I don’t really know any overbearing landlords,” she said. I snorted and she laughed some more. “All of that”—she gestured up at the sky—“it makes me feel like I’m just a teeny tiny speck of cosmic dust and that all of the things I worry about are even less than that, you know what I mean?”

“It doesn’t make you anxious, being so tiny in this enormous universe surrounding us?” I asked. “It doesn’t make you feel insignificant?”

“No.” She shook her head. I saw her smile again. “It makes me feel relieved, like no matter how badly I screw up—and boy, have I—it’s okay. When I look out into the vast universe, I realize that a lot of stuff is really not that big of a deal.”

“You’re breaking my brain, Goddess,” I said. I was trying to keep it light, but in all honesty, she was challenging me in ways I hadn’t expected.

She laughed again. “Sorry, my dad’s a mathematician so my sister and I were frequently encouraged to go big in our thinking.”

“Well, you don’t get much bigger than this,” I said. I opened the flask of whiskey and took a big sip. I handed it to Annabelle, who did the same. It fought off the chill, and as its heat coursed through me, I settled back into my seat, pulled my fleecy blanket around me, and stared up at the sky.

Annabelle handed the flask back to me, but I didn’t drink any more. I didn’t want anything to take the edge off this time with her. As I watched the falling stars—I didn’t care if it was technically a meteor shower—I made wish after wish, and they all began and ended with her.