2 Months 'Til Mrs. (2 'Til Series) (8 page)

“And I didn’t mean it.”

“You sure sounded convincing.”

“I spent seven years of my life as a teenage girl. We
specialize in creating drama.”

“Good to know,” he said grimly, and she wondered if he
was thinking about dealing with her or the coming years with Cara.

“So can I come for a visit?”

“Only if you plan to make the last couple days up to
me, several times over.”

She felt the blood rushing to her nether regions. “I
can do that.”

“You know, I actually considered hopping in my
truck
with Magnus and coming to you for New Year’s.”

“You did?” she swooned.

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she challenged, thinking it
would have saved them both a heap of trouble.

“Because you’re fucking crazy,” he jabbed.

“It’s not like I hid that from you. That much was
obvious from the day I met you,” she said, quite seriously, reminding him that
he
had chosen to take up with the girl who barreled into his life last spring with
a ridiculous request and then hounded him for a week until he gave in, only to
decide she didn’t so much need what she’d been stalking him for. Actually, when
she looked at it that way, it made it seem like this whole breakup episode was
really just par for the Catherine course.

Monday, January 3rd

The Christmas decorations that had turned Nekoyah into
a little gingerbread town for the entire month of December (cute enough to eat)
had been taken down since she was here last week. But the town was still
beautiful all dressed in white, the snow fresh and clean rather than that gray
it seemed to turn the very moment it hit the ground in New York. Even the fact
that it was butt-ass cold couldn’t spoil this morning. She was immune, snuggled
in her warmest coat and the proper snow boots Fynn had bought for her and left
by the door on Christmas morning right next to his. They were actually her
first true snow boots since she’d worn Moon Boots knockoffs when she was little
in Pennsylvania. For some reason once she’d grown out of the snow fort and
snowball stage, she’d moved on to boots with heels and cool buckles and faux
fur trims—nothing suitable for walking in actual snow—certainly nothing
suitable for a Nekoyah winter.

He took care of her.

She felt that tide of love rush over her again, just
as it had at the airport yesterday when Fynn met her with that devilish grin on
his face that reminded her how lucky she was that he was the levelheaded and
rational one. Someone in this relationship had to be. If he was as crazed as
she was, he never would have called her back.
Shit!
would have been the
end of it. Nothing more between them. Nada. Zip. Zingo.

“White Christmas”
startled Catherine out of her
thoughts.
Tara
. She would have to find a new offensive ringtone for the
New Year—payback for Tara using “Jumper”
for Catherine’s calls, like she
was suicidal about still being unmarried. Hardly. And it wasn’t like she was
single; she was in limbo—
phew, dodged a bullet there.
Thank God Tara
hadn’t heard the news that broke over the weekend or Catherine would never hear
the end of it, especially after Tara had worked so hard to get the two of them
together in the first place. But that was old news now; after yesterday and
last night and this morning, she was taken—over and over again.

“When are you coming in?” Tara asked—no hi, hello, or
how do you do.

“Shit!” This seemed to be her new go-to greeting.

“Don’t tell me. You’re not coming in,” Tara groused.

“I—”
It’s Monday?
She had literally forgotten
she had a job to go to; Fynn had screwed her silly. “Could you—”

“No, I will not put your vacation in for you. I’m
coming over to drag your sorry ass out of bed.”

“But I’m stuck—”

“Let me guess, you’ve fallen and you can’t get up?”
Tara snickered.

“Not exactly.” Catherine eyed an empty spot at the curb
and pulled into it.

“Ooh, Cat, it’s bad enough that you spent New Year’s
Eve at your parents’ house; don’t tell me you’re still there.”

What?
Had she still been driving she would have
slammed on the brakes. What the hell did Tara know about her weekend? She hadn’t
spoken to her since Thursday.

“You
are
still there!” Tara charged. “I can’t
believe you crawled home to Mommy and Da—”

“It was a
party
, Tara,” she stressed, wondering
how she knew about it at all—
she was probably invited too—all my friends were
.

“A party of old people.”

“It was better than sitting alone in my apartment for
New Year’s Eve.”

“And whose fault would that have been?” Tara prodded.

“Um… Mother Nature,” Catherine pointed out
patronizingly.

“Oh, there you go blaming the snow!”

“My flight was canceled because of the snow,” she
enunciated carefully.

“But the snow didn’t break you two up—”

Huh?
Her face screwed up in a question mark for
no one’s benefit. Her mother was the only one who knew about that. And her dad.
And Fynn, of course…. And anyone
he
told—
God, I hope he didn’t tell
anyone.
Catherine had purposely left her friends out of that loop. Georgia
was in her own little world these days, tiny human beings garnering all her
attention. And Tara would just tell her to get back on the horse—any old horse
would do—and ride away. A good screw solved everything as far as she was
concerned.

“Your silence is your guilt,” Tara said simply, sounding
like she was speaking mid-bite, probably using her morning donut time to give
her a beat-down.

“We didn’t break up.” Catherine attempted conviction
but it came out as more of a whine.

“Oh, forgive me, you ‘decided to slow things
down—hiccup—everything’s just spinning too fast—’” Tara made a gagging, puking
sound on the other end. “‘It’s best to stop seeing—
hiccup
—and fucking
Fynn… because it’s’not—’” Tara gagged again. “‘—not like it’s going anywhere.
And there are plenty of fish in New York… you know. So now we can date whoever
we want. I think it’s about time I got my—
hiccup
—groove on.’” Then
suddenly stone-cold sober, Tara challenged, “Tell me, what exactly do you call
that?”

“I call it gross. Are you sick or something?”
Catherine eked out, playing dumb—first rule of friendship: never admit to anything.

“I was being you,” Tara admonished. “Complete with
toilet bowl sound effects.”

“I didn’t,” Catherine groaned, putting her head down
against the steering wheel of Fynn’s truck, wanting to hide.

“You called me at two in the morning on New Year’s. I
almost puked just listening to the message.”

“I left that in a message?” she asked shakily, feeling
a little sick at the mere thought.

“Yup. What the hell were you on?”

“Scotch,” she said dolefully. She remembered having
some wicked dreams that night and hugging a toilet bowl had been one of them.
But so had kissing a llama and she certainly hadn’t done that.

“So what gives, bitch?” Tara demanded.

“It was a crank call,” she said, her tone lilting up
in a question.

“Yeah, right.”

“And what took you so long to call me back anyway?” Catherine
retorted, going on the offensive, blindly and hopefully.

“Oh no you don’t. You aren’t turning this on me after
that barf-o-matic message you left. Seriously, Cat, you almost killed the
moment between me and Steve. You should have had a squeamish alert on that
thing.”

Catherine shuddered—
but who the hell was Steve
anyway? A drop in the bucket. Another notch on her bedpost. This wasn’t the
love of her life she was talking about—like I was talking about, albeit
grotesquely.

“So where are you? Do I have to send a search party?”
Tara asked.

“Listen, that call was a…” she scrambled uncertainly,
“… huge misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” Tara asked dubiously.

“I’m actually at Fynn’s right now. I’m taking the day
off.”

“First you leave me the most disgusting message known
to man and now you tell me it was all just a—”

“I was drunk! I can’t be held accountable for what I
say when I’m drunk!”

“Drinking and dialing—I’ve taught you better, haven’t
I? You never know who might get hurt,” Tara said, sounding very “Elizabeth
Hemmings”.  

Oh my God, what if I had called Fynn like that?

Suddenly there was a tapping sound on the window and
she jumped in her seat, her head snapping up from the wheel that she’d been
hanging onto like an anchor to keep her steady. There was Drew outside, pointing
at her bare wrist to pantomime passing time. Calling Drew had been the only
other thing she’d done other than Fynn since arriving. Their friendship had
grown quickly and easily, first in spite of and then because of her brother. If
it weren’t for Drew, Catherine might still be searching for Joel Trager to this
day.

She held a finger to the window while she spoke to
Tara. “I’ll be in tomorrow. I really have to go now.” And with that she
abruptly hung up before Tara had time to protest or even sign off.

After a deep, steadying breath, she got out of the
truck, giving Drew a hug that she meant; suddenly realizing that she had come
painfully close to losing her, too, over the past few days. Pushing Fynn out of
her life would have shoved Drew out as well. Blood
was
thicker than
water. After spending every major holiday together over the past eight months
and getting together most Saturday mornings for a gluttonous breakfast, that
would have been painful collateral damage.

“Happy New Year!” Drew exclaimed. “I can’t believe you
got snowed out! Fynn was so mopey all weekend, like he lost his best friend. My
kids wanted to know who broke their uncle,” she chuckled.

Catherine was stricken, but she detected no judgment
or tension at all in Drew’s voice. She’d been worried that Fynn might have told
his sister about their “technical breakup” and had been somewhat prepared to
plead her case that a girl should never be held accountable for what she says
on New Year’s Eve—especially not one approaching the apex of her thirties
without a husband or children or anything to show for what could very well be
the first half of her life. Everything was about to start going downhill…. This
could be the last good year she had left in her.
And I almost canned it over
a friggin’ snow storm
.

“I get a feeling he would have plowed the runways
himself just to see you,” Drew said in wonder.  “You really have a hold on him.”

My snowplow man
, Catherine swooned.

“So, how long are you in for?” she asked, a wry smile
on her lips. She had taken to using the prison reference in regards to her
visits, like Catherine just couldn’t stay out of trouble.

“Just until this evening. I can’t start blowing all my
vacation in the first week.” Catherine was trying to assure herself of that at
the same time.

They walked down the sidewalk to the Diner on the Main,
the site of Catherine’s first introduction to the little town of Nekoyah. Her
first humiliation, actually. When she learned that big city clashes with small
town like leopard print and gingham, and everyone here did
not
know
everyone’s name. She’d also learned not to make substitutions—order off the
menu and eat it however it comes, or else.

Drew opened the jingling door and Catherine followed
her inside. They took off their winter coats and hung them on the communal coat
rack, then sought out their usual table. By the time they sat down, Mel had appeared
tableside.

“Hey, New York, didn’t realize you were in town.” She
turned their mugs over and poured them each a full cup from her ever-present
pot of coffee. “Didn’t see your little Toto car around. Is it hiding under a
park bench or something? Maybe buried in the snow?”

“It got packed away with the other Christmas
ornaments,” Catherine said easily, though a blush colored her cheeks beyond the
bite of the cold outside. She hadn’t actually driven into town in that tiny
Smart car since her first fateful visit, but first impressions seemed
impossible to live down. There were a handful of the regulars who got a real
kick out of acting surprised to see her each week, checking behind her back for
the transportation that brung her. She liked to think that it meant they really
liked her and preferred not to find out the truth.

Mel gave her a curt nod of approval for the comeback. “So,
the usual?”

“Of course,” Drew replied, turning back to Catherine as
Mel wandered off to the kitchen. “I hate it but I am going to have to eat and
run today. My customers don’t like to wait—it can get ugly.”

Catherine snickered. Drew dealt drugs out of the
pharmacy down the street. Most of her customers were seventy-plus and moved at
a snail’s pace.

“I’m serious. The dentures come out and the arthritic
fists come up.” She swiped her brow like it was a dicey situation. “So you’re
really leaving today?” she implored.

Catherine finished doctoring her coffee and took a
sip. “Mmm-hmm.” Her response was both to Drew and to the coffee that was
beginning to taste more like home to her than the stuff she bought on the way
to work each day.

“Too bad. I was hoping to have you guys over for
dinner. A late New Year’s celebration.”

“Maybe next time,” Catherine offered evasively, not
really knowing when next time would be or how they were moving forward from
here quite yet. There hadn’t been a whole lot of talking about the state of
their relationship what with Fynn’s tongue down her throat and all the moaning
getting in the way.

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Drew quipped.

Catherine took another sip of her coffee, letting it
warm the winter chill and coat the niggling discomfort that she was hiding
stuff from yet another friend. “So are Garret and Lyle still off on Christmas
break?” she blurted.

“Thank God, no!” Drew exclaimed, her eyes dancing.
“They went back to school today. Don’t get me wrong, I
love
the
holidays, but I
need
things to get back to a normal routine. Awful,
right?”

“Not at all,” Catherine gushed, relieved. She felt the
same way on those weekends she came here and Cara was in town. It was just so
much more exhausting than it was when it was just her and Fynn. She’d feared it
was her lack of maternal instincts that was the problem.

“You know, the boys really loved that you came to
their Christmas pageant.”

“It was great. I’m glad I did,” Catherine said with a
chuckle. It was the first Christmas pageant she’d ever been to as a member of
the audience, and it brought back the days when she had been in her church’s
pageant growing up. All the stumbles and missteps and forgotten words. This one
was no different. Lyle tripped on his shepherd’s robe on his way to the stage
and Garret had to be elbowed four times to remember to say his one line.

“It is just so wonderful that you and Fynn are
together. I didn’t know if he would ever find someone and
you,
well, I
just… gosh, I’m such a blubbering fool.” Drew wiped at the tears that suddenly
sprang to her eyes.