Brilliant Page 2

  Opening the first, I see small boxes of various kinds of ornaments, but looking at them, all the little bulbs and shapes and painted wooden things, I suddenly feel like an alien. These decorations all have a history, stories inside of them that are all about Christmases I didn’t share. I pull out an emerald glass bell, beginning to fade, and hold it up to the light. When was it purchased? Who likes this one the best?

  I think of the tree at Henry’s house, and all the tinsel he likes, the way he chuckles to himself as he spreads it like spider webs over the tidy arrangement my mother made of matched sets of glass balls, usually red and green and blue, none of them particularly interesting. There were some I’d made at school, and a few people gave us over the years, but Christmas wasn’t really my mom’s thing.

  In comparison, I plunge my hand into the tissue paper piles, finding treasure after treasure. A photo of my dad and Katie, much younger, on a beach, made into a teardrop-shaped glass ornament; quilted pictures that must have been made by Darcy and Kaleb. Very, very old things that look like they came from another time.

  And then I pull one out that sets my skin on fire. It’s a Santa face, glass, with red apple cheeks, as big as my hand. Mine! I hear in my head. That’s mine!

  I close my eyes to see if anything more comes, but that’s all. I remember the ornament, that’s all.

  But it’s a lot. With some reverence, I hang it on the tree. The first one. Something about it makes my heart feel hollow and lost, and I’m on the verge of tears when my phone rings in my pocket. The number is unfamiliar, but hoping it’s my dad, I answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jess,” says Tyler’s smoky, smooth voice. I close my eyes, unprepared for the silky depth of it. “Are you busy?”

  “Tyler!” I hold the phone close, bending my head to make a private circle even though there is no one else here but me. “Just decorating the Christmas tree. What’s up? Did you get my Skype try?”

  “Did you try to Skype me?”

  “Yes, a little while ago. I have some interesting news.”

  “Well, how about you tell me in person?”

  “What?”

  “I’m in Nelson.”

  “Like Nelson, New Zealand?”

  “Yeah. I just landed—and I only have about 9 hours before I have to be on a plane back to the US.”

  “Tyler! That’s crazy!”

  “I know.” His voice deepens, roughens. “I just miss you and I had this little window of time, and I thought I’d give it a shot.” He pauses. “Surprise you.”

  “Wow.” My heart swells with his confession. I’m so touched that he would fly so far for just a chance. But—“I don’t have any way to get there. My dad is gone and Kaleb is on the North Island doing a film.”

  “I’m glad he’s gone,” he says, and he doesn’t mean my dad. “You know, you’re starting to pick up the accent.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah. How about this—I’ll send a car. It can be there in a couple of hours. I’ll shower and grab a quick nap and we can go to the beach and then have some supper. I’d love some sun on my skin.”

  “A car from Nelson is going to be expensive.”

  “I don’t care. I need to see you, Jess. Please come.”

  The tree with its single ornament mocks me from the corner, reminding me of all the ways I don’t belong here. I think of Tyler, so close by, and my heart turns over. “I can’t believe you’re so close. Send a car.”

  “All right.” His voice thickens with pleasure. “Jesus, I can’t wait to see you.”

  A rush of anticipation rolls down my spine, pools in my hips. “Me, too.”

  Chapter TWO

  I tell myself not to get all caught up in the whole thing, that it will just be fun to see him, see how it feels and share my good news. I’m nervous, excited, anxious—the usual tangle of emotions he stirs up.

  The last time I saw him was in the bar in Queenstown. I was angry with him for not telling me that he was in training for the Olympics, mad at him for keeping another secret from me, and told him I wanted some breathing room.

  And in typical Tyler fashion—all big gestures—he showed up in the bar in New Zealand, and while Kaleb held my hand on one side, Tyler stole a kiss. Until that very second, when his lips claimed mine with such authority, I was sure I was choosing Kaleb. Who is beautiful. And steady. And smart. And in mad love with me.

  But there was Tyler’s hot mouth on mine, sucking me in, sucking me into his world—our world, the world of Jess-and-Tyler—and for one long second, I was lost and kissing him back, even as my fingers gripped Kaleb’s as if to keep myself from drowning.

  It sounds kind of slutty, I guess, but the truth is, sometimes a person loves more than one guy at a time. I haven’t figured this out, but that’s one thing I know for absolute sure: I am in love with both Tyler Smith and Kaleb Te Anga. They are completely different from each other—and each satisfies something crazy hungry in me.

  How do you know who is the right person for you?

  It’s not like I’m hiding anything from either one of them. They both agreed to give me some time. I haven’t asked either of them to be faithful to me, though I try very hard not to think about that. It makes me feel like my skin is being peeled off to think of either of them even kissing someone else.

  This never happens in the movies—there is always a soul mate, and you might not recognize him/her immediately, but eventually there’s a sense that these two people are destined to be together forever. If that’s true, why don’t I know who to choose?

  Electra says not to put too much stock into the idea of soul mates. She’s been around awhile, so she must know—but she’s also…kind of closed off. She doesn’t go out with anybody. She lives alone. She took a wrong turn when she was young and has been alone since then.

  That’s not what I want, to be so wary of making the wrong decision that I don’t make one at all and lose them both. The idea makes me feel sick to my stomach.

  But that’s exactly what I’m risking right now by deciding not to decide. Something tells me that time is running out—sooner or later, one of them will get tired of my waffling and walk away. That would be no choice at all.

  Stripping off my shorts and t-shirt, I turn the water on in the shower and stare at myself in the mirror. Kaleb and I have the movie to do, so we have to keep things on an even keel there. Tyler is training and won’t be around much. Spending the day with him is only fair, since I had the time with Kaleb in Auckland.

  For now, though, there’s no point in getting all worked up about it all. I don’t need to make a decision today.

  In the shower, I take time to really scrub my skin, which is very tan from all the time outside. I shave my legs and wash my hair and then sit outside in the sunshine to brush it out so it will be straight and shiny. Feeling it swish over my arms and pulling it over my shoulder to brush it, I feel a pang over the film requirement that I have to cut it. It will be hard, but I’m not giving up the part over it. People have been telling me I should cut it for ages.

  But what if my hair is all that I have, and nobody will notice me anymore if I don’t have this Rapunzel hair? I pull it between my palms, smoothing it.

  One thing I have to do is let Kaleb know that I’m going to see Tyler. If I call, my voice might give something away that I don’t want him to hear, so I take the coward’s way and text.

  Hey, this weird thing happened. Tyler just called. He’s in Nelson just for the day and I’m going up there to see him. Just wanted you to know.

  His reply is terse: Understood.

  It makes my heart ache. What does that mean? Is he mad?

  Am I the biggest bitch in the world? It’s not like I lied when we first started having feelings for each other. I was very, very upfront. I’ve been as honest as I can possibly be.

  Except that night in Auckland, maybe. It broke the rules, for sure. My rules.

  I pace back and forth across the shade of the porch, arms crossed over my
waist. This is exactly why I’ve been taking a break from romance for the past few months. I don’t want my whole head filled with nothing but guys and sex and drama. Until August, I’d had a boyfriend constantly since I was fourteen.

  Have I learned anything?

  I’m not sure. It’s been good, just being with my family, connecting to myself and the vineyard, learning new things, relaxing a little bit. I’m in love with this place, with New Zealand and the winery and being with my dad and my family. I don’t know that I ever want to go back to the US.

  Well, except for the movie. My heart flips again. Kaleb, the movie. Tyler. Funny how things happen all at once.

  I guess the peaceful time is over.

  I pause to look out toward the road, shading my eyes against the bright sun. The car is nosing along the thin road, and my stomach jumps. It stays nervous as I climb in and greet the driver, stays jumpy all the way into Nelson, even though I sit in the back and read a novel I found for 20 pence at the local thrift shop. I’m finding they are great spots to look for books, and there’s always something different from what I’d find in the US.

  The US. We’ll be heading back there to film Torches, and right to my back yard, too—Aspen. I’ll have to figure out how to spend some time with my stepdad and Electra. I wonder who is living in my little house?

  It all seems so far away now, though, another life. Vaguely I wonder if I am an American citizen, too, or if claiming the New Zealand citizenship means I am not an American citizen even if I have a social security card.

  Come to that, how did my mom manage my social security card without my birth certificate? Are the kids of Americans automatically American?

  It makes me more anxious to think about all this, so I push it aside and peer out the window. In the bright afternoon sunlight, the vineyards are lush and green, spilling over the hillsides looking out over Cloudy Bay. My dad and I went surfing there a few weeks ago, and it was the best day I’ve had with him so far. There were hardly any people out and the waves were sweet.

  Finally we’re on the outskirts of Nelson and then the car is pulling up in front of the square by the cathedral where I told Tyler to meet me—outside, in plain sight. “Here you are, miss,” the driver says. “This is where I’m to drop you and pick you up again later, yeah?”

  I nod and hand him a crisp twenty as a tip. It makes me feel adult and together, and I love that I actually have the money to do it. “I’ll see you later, then. Right here.”

  He gives me his card. “Or call me if you want a different spot.”

  “Ta.”

  I get out of the car and smooth my sundress. It’s new, soft cotton with a fitted bodice and swingy skirt that stops just above my knees. The colors are bright and summery, turquoise and pink in a sort of subdued Hawaiian print, with string straps and a thin silvery belt. I’m wearing silver sandals that show off my super-tan feet. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I start walking, looking for Tyler, pretending I’m not nervous.

  It gives me confidence to know I look my best, that I’m wearing a fashionable dress I bought with my own money, and the little sweater I can toss on over the dress is also just right. Katie and I had a blast shopping for clothes when we took Darcy to Queenstown a couple of months ago. I spent more in one day on these clothes than I used to pay in rent, a very small amount of the money the commercial paid. Katie encouraged me to do it; I think she was a little sad that I had so few clothes when I arrived, and those that I did have were pretty old.

  The sun is really hot on my shoulders, shining triple time through the hole in the ozone layer, or so they say around here. Whatever it is, I know I get sunburned a lot faster down here, and I have good skin for tanning. I wear sunscreen all the time.

  To get out of the sun, I duck into some shade and sit on a bench, looking around the square. There are lots of people out enjoying the day, tourists and locals, eating ice cream, riding bikes and skateboards, holding hands. New Zealanders love Nelson—it’s the place they all say they want to retire—good weather, great sailing, excellent food. I watch a small family, mom and dad swinging a toddler between them, the boy laughing and crying out, “Again.”

  But it’s really ageen.

  Right behind the family is Tyler. I spy him before he sees me. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with some kind of stylized handwriting all over it in gray and black. It fits him exactly right, not too tight, just enough to cling to his shoulders and flat belly, enough to show off the fact that he’s very lean, in absolutely perfect shape, every single muscle in his body toned and taut, chest and shoulders and thighs, even forearms. His hair is too long, very straight, and streaked blonde from all the time on the slopes. He’s wearing sunglasses so the main thing you see about his face is his perfectly shaped mouth, electrifyingly framed by that soft-looking, golden goatee.

  As I stare at him, still hidden, I’m startled to realize that I am still very attracted to him. I thought it might fade with distance and time, and I realize that I’ve started to kind of rewrite our romance in my head—telling myself that there was nothing there but sex.

  But as I watch him, a thousand other things come roaring back, the places where we connect, the days we shared. In the mountains, hiking, in his kitchen eating. In his studio, me posing, Tyler painting.

  Half of me is tempted to get up and walk away so that I don’t have to deal with it. I can almost feel that half of me split off and hurry down the street, safely headed back to the winery and things I understand and can control, and the possibility of a relationship with a guy who is the opposite of volatile, the opposite of intense.

  The other half of me stands up, heart pounding, and waits for him to notice me. He’s looking around the square. A girl in a breezy dress and long black hair gives him a big smile. He raises his chin in acknowledgment, but he’s instantly looking for me again, his hands smacking together, one fist into the other palm. I think I should lift my hand, call to him, but I can’t move.

  Finally, he sees me. His body goes utterly still for one long second, then he takes off his sunglasses, as if he wants nothing between us but air. And I’d forgotten this, too, the way he looks at me. It’s dazzling, as if I am the only thing he’s ever wanted to see, as if he is winded, as if he would look at me forever.

  It makes my breath flutter in my throat. He raises a hand and puts it over his heart, and then he’s walking toward me. I forgot how fluidly he moves, how loose limbed and easy. I stand there, feeling shaky, and wait.

  He jogs the last few steps and then he’s reaching for me, his hands on my shoulders, then my back, his arms around me, pulling me into him in a giant, engulfing hug.

  “Oh, my God,” he whispers against my ear. His lips brush my neck, his breath flows over my ear. “Oh, my God, I missed you so much.” His grip is fierce, as if he will never let me go, and I find myself returning it, our bodies smashed so hard together it’s impossible to tell where I begin and he ends. He smells of pine and snow and something spicy, a scent that makes me dizzy, and I cling to him, hard. I close my eyes, my whole body buzzing.

  “Tyler,” I whisper. “I’m so glad to see you,” but it’s a strange thing to say since I can’t see him at all—I’m just gripping him tightly, my fingers on his taut, muscular back, my face pressed into his neck. A dozen flashes of memory pop against the back of my eyelids—the green-lit bedroom where I awakened beside him, imagining I could live there; the first kiss we shared, in the rain; the meal we ate at Nosh, just before everything between us fell apart. I squeeze my eyes tighter.

  He lifts his head, his hands going to my face, and I have to tilt up my chin to look at him. He’s very close, his hands holding my cheeks between his palms as if I am some precious, lost thing. So close, his eyes fill my vision, a greeny-blue ocean with wild, hidden depths.

  “You are more amazingly beautiful than ever,” he whispers, and then he kisses me, his sensual mouth so hot and fierce and unforgotten, capturing mine completely. It’s only lips at first,
kissing and kissing; my hands are on his wrists, but I’m not sure if I’m pulling him away or holding myself upright. Then I’m softening, opening, and we’re devouring each other, tasting the forgotten flavors, the slide and glide and heat, the memories kindling into flares across my throat, my breasts, deep within. I get lost in that kiss as if I am dissolving into the force that is Tyler, the force of his desire for me—

  And then I find some kernel of sanity and grip his wrists hard, pull back. Look up at him. I don’t need to say a word. He takes a breath, swallows, then bends his head to touch my forehead. “I missed you,” he whispers.

  I allow myself one more moment of vulnerability. “Me, too.”

  Chapter THREE

  My legs are shaky, but I manage to pull back, take his hand. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” he says, and weaves his fingers through mine. “I ate on the plane, but that was about a thousand years ago.”

  I smile. “And you’re in training. You need some protein, right?”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “We can go to the beach or stay here in town and then wander over there later, or there are a lot of brew pubs around. What do you think?”

  “No brew pubs yet. I’ve gotta stay on track a little bit.” He gestures toward town. “Let’s stay here for now.”

  We walk through the busy streets to the café where my father first brought me, and order burgers and the pumpkin ravioli and a big salad to split, along with ginger beer. “I love ginger beer,” he says, and I realize that he’s better traveled than I, that he knows things I only discovered when I got here.

  “Me, too. Ginger beer and meat pies are my favorites.”

  He sits across from me at a little table, the light coming in over his head to gloss his hair. I’d forgotten how shiny his hair is, how he ignores the length of it. It gives him a rakish look, and something more than that—he’s a lot more comfortable in his skin. “You look happy, Tyler.”