A Toast to the Good Times (5 page)

Chapter 4

Nearly five hours later, I’m on the second train of this never
-
ending night, tr
avelling back to New Jersey
, so chilled I have a nasty cold sweat, my stomach is rumbling and rolling over itself, and my brain
is
on fire from the residual aftershocks of a hangover going strong. I slide my phone out of my pocket a dozen times, running my thumb over the smooth glass, ready to text Mila at any second.

Any second.

Whenever I got my guts up and just do it.

Anytime now.

The irony of my situation is that I’m actually begging fate or life or whatever to throw me something that will detour my attention and keep me from having to bungle it all with Mila in a whole new format...and then I get a diversion that comes out of the goddamn blue and is the only thing, other than a face-to-face meeting with my dad, that could ruin my already shitty situation.

“Landry? Landry Murphy? Is that you? Seriously?”

For a long minute, all I know is that this is someone from my past, someone I knew really well once and am having a hard time placing through the vodka-fog encasing my brain.

Finally the pieces all come together; the long blonde hair, the pretty brown eyes, the figure, tall but a little too skinny. Which makes sense when you know her and how constantly on the run she always is.

It was exhausting in high school when she was the head of at least twenty different clubs, our class president, the salutatorian, and a Girl Scout. Yep, she went all the way up to whatever the Girl Scout equivalent of Eagle Scout is. I went to the ceremony with her to get her award or sash or pin, and the little beret she wore was cute as hell. Awesome cookies, too.

She went on to dominate in college and, last I heard, she was working on her doctoral degree. Probably well on her way to being some cutthroat attorney or head of neurosurgery or something equally impressive.

“Toni.” I move closer to the window, my body language asking her to sit down next to me even though my brain is objecting loud and fierce.

The smile stretched over her lips pulls into a resigned, downturned frown. “No one calls me that, Landry. No one
ever
called me that but you.”

She sits next to me.

She smells entirely different than I remember.

It’s a good smell, some kind of sweet, expensive perfume mixed with this cold, clean scent that’s probably really just the smell of winter leaking in through the cracks in the rickety doors.

But good isn’t comfortable and, even though I hate it, it’s just another inevitable aspect of her personality that always clashed with mine.

Back when we were together, I was constantly working hard to loosen Toni up, make her more relaxed and less hyper-fucking-aware. I wanted to find that little piece of her that I could just sink into and forget the outside world with. It was the holy grail that held my attention through the entirety of our relationship.

But it was Atlantis, a herd of unicorns, the tooth fairy; Toni was and always would be only exactly what she seemed on the surface. There were no hidden depths to the girl.

And I got bored trying to find some secret she didn’t have.

And she got bored trying to make me take life more seriously.

It was the world’s most intensely boring, frustrating relationship.

I haven’t talked to her in years. This is definitely a blast from the past I’d really rather not have when I’m stuck on public transportation for forty-five minutes with no escape hatch.

No matter how cute she might be.

And she sits down next to me. Of course. What else would she do on a drafty, eerily quiet train late on the eve before Christmas Eve?

“So, you want me to call you Antonia instead of Toni? That’s a lot of syllables,” I gripe. “It sounds grown up.”

“We
are
grown up, Landry.” She unbuttons her coat and loosens the scarf from around her neck. “And everyone still calls me Ann, just like they always did.”

“Ann is boring.”

I cross my arms because it’s cold as a meat-locker on this train, and I have to work not to scowl, but it’s hard. I don’t feel like smiling, mostly due to the combination of Toni and the
bitter cold and my hangover all crashing into my guilt over Mila and mixed in with my dread at the thought of what waits for me at home.

Home.

It should be such a reassuring word, but it falls flat and sour in my brain.

“It was always so important to you that I be more interesting.” Her voice is quiet and her focus is on her hands. She’s tugging off her leather gloves, one finger at a time. When she looks up, her eyes are on fire with this kind of sexy defiance. “I always
was
interesting. Just because I was an achiever didn’t make me some predictable good girl.”

I look at her lips, twitching with frustration, and remember how damn careful and perfectly sweet her kisses were.

I don’t remember that crazy mad look in her eyes, ever, when we dated, and wonder if it would transfer to her lips now.

Would everything ignite if I leaned over and kissed her right now?

I realize I need to get my head back on straight and stop thinking about kissing girls from my past.

And from my present, come to think of it.

“Funny how we haven’t seen each other in five years—”

“Four,” she interrupts and pops all the knuckles on her left hand, then starts on her right. “It’s been four years, Landry.”

“Alright, four,” I concede, and grab her hand in mine just to stop that irritating popping noise.

It’s an old habit, to touch her like this. I don’t have the right, but in the cold quiet of this train and the strange perimeters of this totally bizarre chance meeting, it’s like we’re right back where we were the night we broke up.

The connection only lasts for one sparking second before she yanks her hand out of my grasp and shakes it out.

It takes her two seconds, maybe, before she shakes her head, clears her throat, and looks at me, perfectly composed like she always is. “You were saying? That it’s funny it’s been four years and…?”
             

She’s tucking her long, shiny hair behind her ears, which stick out a little. She definitely wants me to think she’s got it all under control, but I know I’ve got her flustered, and that fact makes me sit back and just enjoy.

“Right. It’s funny how four years have gone by, but we jumped right back into our old habits. Still annoying the crap out of each other. Still pissing each other off.”

She turns towards me in the seat and reaches up with both hands, tugging at either side of my crumpled collar where it’s been crushed by my coat. She has these long, elegant fingers and she uses them to smooth the fabric back out and probably make me look three times more respectable with that single move.

“Your collar was always a mess. It makes you look unfinished. Always did.”

She has a dimple that dents in on her left cheek. I love the a
symmetrical
way it unbalances her face. Has it always been there?

I slide my hand to hers slowly and tap one finger on the point of her middle knuckle.

“And popping your knuckles is your tell. Keep it under wraps, Toni, and your enemies won’t be able to read that you’re nervous.” I draw my finger over the ridges and bumps of her hand, which she’s relaxed out of a fist.

“My enemies?” She laughs and her eyes follow the trail my finger makes. “Why do I get the feeling you always saw me as the female version of Genghis Khan?”

“I never said you reminded me of Genghis Khan,” I scoff. She tilts her head and I add, “Mr. Ryan told us he was a red-head in freshman history class, right? You’re so much more a Henry the VIII type.”

Her laugh loosens something in my chest and makes me feel instantly good, like I just tossed back a decent shot of smooth whiskey.

“He was obese, Landry!” She moves her hand so her fingers drum my knee. It seems nonchalant, but it’s clearly not.

“You’re like a young, svelte Henry VIII,” I amend and rub a hand over my scruff before I stretch out, pushing my leg further into her space. “So, what’s been up with you since we last talked?”

She knits her eyebrows. “Well, when we last talked, I was in my sophomore year at NYU. I think I was still a bio major, right?”

I have no clue what her major was, but I love the way she’s looking at me, her face easy and pretty, so I lie. “Yeah, it was at the fair over the summer when I saw you, and you told me about the bio stuff. So that didn’t work out? You didn’t want to be a scientist or whatever?”

One light eyebrow goes up and her fingers go still on my leg like she can see right through my lie. “It was actually my attempt to make a stab at pre-med. What happened was that I interned at a local veterinary office and passed out when they let me sit in on a sheep’s emergency throat surgery.”

“You passed out?” I smile, just a little, and she smiles back and blushes. “Really? Out cold?”

“Cold.” She starts out nodding, but it turns into a headshake. “I switched majors pretty quickly after that. The sheep was fine, by the way.”

“Right,” I laugh. “Forgot all about the poor woolly guy. I just keep picturing you face-planting on some hospital floor.”

Toni rolls those big brown eyes. “Your compassion has always been your finest quality, Landry.” She shrugs out of her coat and clutches her scarf anxiously. “Anyway, I switched to a double major in business and music. So I help my parents do all the books for their flower shop, and I commute to the city three days a week for graduate training at CUNY. I was coming back from a late rehearsal tonight.”

“Where is your fiddle?” I look to see if it’s lying on the floor or something, but she’s traveling light.

“Violin,” she corrects, automatically, before she can catch herself. It’s one of our old jokes, a mistake I used to make constantly and on purpose just to get her riled. Her smile is self-deprecating. “Funny, Landry. You know, I also play piano. That’s what I was rehearing tonight. It’s for a concert.”

“A PhD in music.” I sound impressed, and it’s not bullshit. I am impressed as all hell. “So you
kinda
got
it
all figured out, don’t you?”

When she looks at me, her face is serious, but not accusatory. “That was the plan. All that studying and achieving in high school? That was so I could be
freer
now. And it was worth it. I was stuck then anyway. Now I’m free in a way I wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t worked so hard back then.”

“Free, huh?” I shake my head. “All that time I thought you were uptight because that was just who you were. Now I find out it was all part of this elaborate, grown-up plan? And you try to tell me you aren’t descended from some crazy scheming overlord? Cause I’m not buying it.”

She pulls both her hands back into her lap, then holds them in front of her body and, finally, moves them up to my face. She cups my jaw, pulls me forward gently, and kisses me.

It’s not careful. But it is sweet. So damn sweet, but with an edge of something darker, something hidden deep under all those layers of quiet calm. Something wild and new and completely shocking.

She pulls back abruptly, and it’s like someone yanked a plug out of the wall and cut the only light in the room. I feel disoriented, eager for more, and equally as eager to get as far away from her and the second crazy kiss of this cursed holiday evening.

She takes a long, shaky breath and runs her fingers over her lips. “That was…I’m sorry. I didn’t even wait to ask if you’re with anyone, and don’t tell me if you are.” She holds her other hand up like she’s stopping traffic in an intersection at rush hour. “It was one kiss, and I know for a fact it didn’t mean a thing to you.”

I open my mouth and she transfers her fingers from her lips to mine. “Don’t. I don’t know why I did that. I think it was to show you that I’m not that girl you broke up with after high school. Or maybe it was just you. You’re still all perfect cheekbones and that hair? What guy makes curly hair work? Don’t say anything, okay? You’re sexy. You’re still just as sexy as you were, but, the difference is that I’m sexy now, too. It wouldn’t be so one sided anymore, would it?”

“Ton—”

“Shut up!” she laughs and bites her lip. “I’m obviously just…having a moment, Landry. I just…I never expected to see you on the train tonight. Why would you be on
this
train
tonight
? The one night I stayed late and caught the last train home? And a week after I was thinking about us and what we could have had if I hadn’t been such a total priss and you hadn’t been such an insensitive prick. Even though I had to be. I did. But I don’t just go kissing random guys on trains. Not that you’re random. I mean, we were together for three years. For three years you were mine.” She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “Okay. Enough. That’s…I’ve made a big enough fool of myself. Okay. Done. I’m leav—”

I pull her back down, back next to me, and cover my lips with hers again. The kiss is short and a little rough, because I want to make her be quiet, and I want to dig fast and sure back to that place where we just were.