Forever Your Heart
I’m a journalist—Adam Kincaid, BBC reporter, to be exact, so I’m not going to bury the lead. I’m about to see the woman I never got over.
I know that because I’ve been back in America for years now, and I still don’t date American girls. My dad would say I’ve come to my senses, sticking to my own British patrician kind, but that’s crap. Mum, the psychologist, would more wisely say it’s my unresolved issues around Nicki. My teenage years are long behind me, yet my guilt over her remains. So I’ve avoided all things Nicki, though the irony is she’s the one avoiding me.
Maybe if we see each other, we can both move on. Could she ever forgive me? Can you forgive yourself when you hurt someone you love?
But please, don’t answer yet. I’ve jumped ahead of the story, and as a reporter, I should give you more background to get to the root of it all.
So let me tell you my story. Then you can be the judge.
Throughout my travels the next day, I racked my brain thinking of how I could get Nicki alone—really alone—to tell her how I felt. It was time. I was tired of the game. Of course, I would wait as long as it took for her to come around, but I wanted to speed it up.
I still hadn’t decided how to best approach her when I got a phone call from David the following morning. “Hey, Cuz. You can thank me again.”
“I booked a date with our two little birds for this weekend.”
“David, I really don’t think they qualify as our birds yet.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve got Lisa right where I want her.”
“Are you sure? Knowing Lisa, I bet she wouldn’t even like being called a bird.”
“Fine. Then, she’s my swan.”
Tired of his routine, I cut him off. “What did you plan? You know Sylvia is coming down on Saturday.”
“That’s fine. She can join us. We’re going boating on the Potomac.”
“Boating?” I was more of a rower than David, but that wasn’t saying much.
“Yep. It was Lisa’s idea. I bet if I row her along, it will melt my ice queen’s heart. Sylvia can be in your boat.”
Sylvia’s presence would make Nicki comfortable, but she was also going to be really fucking annoying. I grumbled, “Great. Thanks. You’re always thinking of me.”
“Not really, but I’m happy to be of help when I can.”
“Are you sure you can row a boat?”
“Not at all, but I’m already planning on capsizing.”
“Why on earth would you plan that? She’ll be irate.”
“Maybe, but she’ll definitely end up half-naked.”
I could envision a soggy Lisa ridding herself of a wet T-shirt. “It might work.”
“And you know what comes after half-naked?”
“Fully naked,” he said with supreme confidence.
Mary Whitney blames Laura Ingalls Wilder and Margaret Mitchell for her obsession with romance novels. At an early age, Mary fell in love with the Little House series and its dreamy hero, Almanzo Wilder, who only wanted Laura to be Laura. Like many women, Mary later graduated to the ultimate, tall and dark bad boy, Rhett Butler, who loved Scarlett despite her flaws.
Northern California with her husband and daughters. She spends her days writing characters she hopes somehow capture the romance of Rhett and Scarlett and Almanzo and Laura. She's a firm believer in what Rhett says to Scarlett: "You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.