Page 2 of Until Now

“Why are you so concerned about what I’m doing?”

“I got worried when Lydia said she couldn’t find you.”

“Well, you seemed pretty content with that redhead from Kappa.”

“That’s not fair, Nina.”

“Fuck off, Lee. I don’t need a babysitter.” I had been adamant about not wanting to come out that night, but Teagan wouldn’t stop begging. The only way to get her to shut up was to come along. And now, Teagan was off doing God knows what with God knows who. When Lydia finally showed, I decided to stick by her, it would keep me out of trouble. But, I didn’t count on the drinks being so strong.

As the alcohol coursed through me, the air grew thick, the music too loud; I needed to breathe. Catching a glance of the side door closing, I found my escape. “I need some air,” I said, heading for the door without looking back.

§

I’ve come a long way since then. After that night, I stopped going to parties. If I did show up, I was gone within thirty minutes. Enough time to show my face, say hello to a few people, and leave. My focus turned to my studies and securing an internship. But, what surprised everyone most of all… I started dating Lee — officially. Long gone was the party girl. Now, I own a successful interior design and decorating firm, DV Designs.

My current project: a penthouse in Manhattan. It features floor-to-ceiling windows with 360-degree views of the city from Central Park to the Chrysler and Empire State Buildings. I used to dream of living in the city, maybe in a penthouse just like this, but that dream ended almost two years ago. I’ve been avoiding New York ever since, unwilling to deal with the memories around every corner. I can’t deny it has been nice being back in the city — even if I’ve been on edge the entire time. Constantly looking over my shoulder when I go into my old coffee shop. Scanning every face on the street. All in the hopes of avoiding one person. I don’t have to do that back in Winchester. Even though his parents still live in the low country, he hardly visits.

I triple-check every detail of the penthouse: re-fluff couch pillows, re-stack coffee table books, and re-straighten the blanket on the chaise. Wipe invisible dust from the marble table in the gallery, rearrange the candles on the dining table, and put a bottle of champagne to chill in the kitchen. I’ve done projects for celebrities without an ounce of nerves, but this one felt different. This one is personal. Lydia is moving to New York City to be with her boyfriend, Jack, a wall street guy; and she refused to move without my help. I was more than happy to oblige, even if it meant coming back to the city.

“You’re late,” I say without looking, hearing heels echo against the floor. Michaela. Late, per usual.

“I am so, so sorry!” Michaela practically begs. This is the one time I asked her not to be late. “I met this cute guy and we got to talking and before I knew it, it was three!” Michaela hands over a fresh cup of coffee from Second Cup on 58th Street. “I brought a peace offering.”

“I guess I can forgive you…this one time.”

Michaela breathes a sigh of relief and glances around the penthouse. “You’ve outdone yourself, Nin. I’m gonna go chill the champagne!”

“Already done.” I laugh as the blush creeps into her cheeks and she ducks into the kitchen anyway to see what else she can do.

I check my appearance in the mirror: I comb through my waves, push my shoulders back, straighten my peplum top, and wipe some dust from my black jeans just as the elevator dings.

A squeal of excitement follows Lydia through the double doors, a blur of blonde and pink. She moves from one thing to the next, unable to decide where to look first. Finally, her eyes land on me and she practically tackles me. A tall redhead trails in a moment later, behind him the doorman wheels an overfilled luggage cart. He’s not as interested, but he acknowledges Lydia whenever he hears his name as she flits around the first floor. “It looks great, Nina,” he finally says before disappearing upstairs with the luggage.

I loop arms with Lydia leading her towards the dining room and kitchen, “Let me show you around.”

§

I salivate as the waitress sets a plate of seared scallops in front of me and a plate of pan-seared branzino in front of Lydia. I’ve been dreaming of these scallops from Butter since I landed at JFK, but I promised Lydia I would wait to indulge until she arrived. “How was your trip?” I ask, cutting into asparagus between us.

Lydia’s hands wring together underneath the table. “Well, actually, I have some news.” She waits another second before stretching her hand across the table. A sparkle on her finger practically blinds me under the light.

Holy shit.

I grab her hand and examine the rather large diamond sitting on a very important finger. “Quanti carati?”

“After all these years, I still don’t understand you when you speak Italian.”

“Sorry! I’m just excited. How many carats?”

“Eight.”

“Little blue box?”

“Naturally.” Lydia admires her ring under the dim restaurant lights. “It was everything I wanted. He took me to this cliffside restaurant and…" I take an extra large sip of wine. I’m happy for Lydia, really I am, but I can't deny the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was it jealousy? Regret? No…I don’t know. I don’t think so. If things had gone to plan, I’d be married with a kid or two and a townhouse on the Upper East Side. But, things never seem to go as planned, do they?

“Sounds perfect,” I say quickly, realizing I have yet to comment.

There’s sympathy behind her eyes. “You probably don’t want to hear about this.”

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