“Is it hard to celebrate Bria’s birthday without Isabel?” I ask timidly. I expect Nick to shut me down, but instead he regards my question earnestly, like I’m asking what his favorite meal is.
“Last year was harder. Her birthday was two weeks after the accident.” He shifts his weight, and I expect him to shut down or tell me never to ask another question about Isabel ever again. But he doesn’t. He seems relieved to be talking about it. “For a long time, I was in denial about everything. This huge, awful thing happened to Bria and me—one moment that will forever mark my life, where nothing will ever be the same. And for so long, I catalogued my life into two areas: before and after. It’s only recently that I’m learning it’s okay to live fully in the after.”
I’m stunned by his words. He seems so much more grounded now than he did a few weeks ago. I know that grief comes in waves—tidal waves—but it seems like he’s taking major steps forward. I smile.
“That’s a good way of thinking about things,” I say. “Before and after.”
“I don’t think Isabel would want me to be miserable forever,” he says quietly, looking at me.
“You won’t be miserable forever. I’ll see to it.” The minute I say it, I realize how it might sound, and I clap my hand over my mouth. Nick just throws his head back and laughs. God, his laugh is amazing.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” I retort. “Even if I have to make you play Would You Rather every single damn day.”
He beams at me, assessing me. His eyes flit over me amusingly.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he says, and the tone of his voice is flirtatious. “We could play now, if you wanted.”
“Hmm… a game like that played after midnight never leads to anything good,” I mumble, and memories of the times Violet, Marcus, Dan and I played it in college pass through my mind.
“Evianna Halle… would you rather go back in the past and fix something that went wrong in your life or go into the future and manipulate it?”
I stare at him. He’s really doing this.
“But what would I be manipulating in the future?”
“You’d go forward and see the future, and you could change things in the present, thus manipulating the future.”
“I see. I guess I’d go back into the past and fix something. I don’t want to see the future. I like not knowing.” He nods. I already know how he’d answer that question, but I ask anyways. “What about you?”
He gazes at me, and his eyes grow thoughtful.
“Hmm… I’d go to the future. Only because I’d like to find Bria’s first boyfriend and scare the crap out of him.”
I laugh.
“You’d really go to the future?”
“Yes,” he says calmly. “What’s done is done. No point dwelling on things you can’t change.”
“But if you could?” I push, though I know I’m being nosy.
“I wouldn’t want to. Not at this point in my life. There’s a certain finality in the death of a loved one. You almost realize, though it’s hard to admit at first, that there’s a reason their time in your life is so brief. What Isabel and I had… it was pure magic. It was the most beautiful love. In a way, it was as if it were supposed to end this way. I wish it hadn’t, but it did, and now… I’m just trying to live again, to feel again. Because… fuck, life is short. Too short.”
I am rendered speechless again. Mostly because of his insightful words, but also because I’ve never heard Nick Wilder swear before. It’s refreshing. It reminds me of just how young he really is.
I cock my head.
“How old are you, Nick Wilder?”
He chuckles. “Thirty-two.”
“Thought so,” I counter. “You’re so wise. I knew you had to be an old man,” I tease. He smiles. “But seriously. It’s nice seeing you act your age.”
“Act my age?” He’s amused.
“You know… swearing. Staying up late and, well, baking. You’ve led such a heavy, serious, burdened life. You need to let loose a little. I’d be happy to watch Bria if you ever wanted to go to a bar with your friends or something.”
“Thanks,” he says slowly. “But bars aren’t exactly my scene.”