Nearlyweds (20 page)

“He
is
happy.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” I dropped the boxes on the front stoop, then went back to the den for another armload.

She kept pace behind me, berating me in increasingly shrill tones. “I will not be spoken to like that in my own home, do you hear me?”

I laughed. “Here’s the thing, Renée: this isn’t your house. It’s mine. Mine and David’s.”

“I gave you the down payment.”

“How could I forget with you reminding me every five minutes?”

“You don’t live here anymore. You’re moving out.”

“My name is on the title. Not yours. I’ll speak to you any way I want. If you don’t like it…” I gestured toward the door.

Her face puckered into an angry little move, but she stood her ground. “You were never good enough for him,” she repeated. “Never.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I was perfect for him. And you couldn’t stand it.”

“But he picked me, didn’t he?” She seized the cordless phone and commenced dialing.

“Who do you think you’re calling?” I scoffed. “The police are not going to come and throw me out. Name on the title, remember?”

“I’m calling Mr. Reynolds. He’ll help you move your furniture. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.”

“Finally, we agree on something.”

“Hello, Henry?” She barked into the phone. “I need you to come over.” She paused. “Yes, I’m back. Bridge broke up early tonight. How did I do?” She smiled at me, her eyes glinting. “I won, of course. I always win.”

D
o you remember your name?” I asked Nick as soon as he woke up the next morning.

He rubbed his eyes, still groggy under the blankets I’d piled on the sofa last night. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember
my
name?”

“Case, come on, don’t treat me like a lobotomy patient.”

“Well, I’m just making sure. When I found you in the woods yesterday, you were hallucinating and talking crazy.”

“I was not.” He propped himself up on his elbows, adorably indignant in his gauze bandage and Celtics shirt. I resisted-barely—the urge to reach out and ruffle his golden brush of hair.

“You thought I was Anna Delano,” I reminded him.

“I did not!”

“Nick.” I put my hands on my hips. “You kept calling me the prom queen.”

He collapsed back against the pillows. “That—Okay, that—”

“Yes? I’m waiting.”

“I did not think you were Anna Delano!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t! I was trying…I was referring to…ask Stella. She’ll explain it better than I can.”

“You want me to ask Stella why you confused me with Anna Delano in the woods yesterday? Here we go again with the crazy talk.”

He got off the couch and strode toward the kitchen. “You just wait and see.”

The sight of him in his boxers was making me remember things I’d rather forget. Like how much fun we’d had in the bed of our dilapidated honeymoon shack in the Adirondacks. And now, with Erin bunking at Stella’s newly leased apartment for the next few days while Nick stayed here, there was no one to buffer the increasingly charged friction between us. I forced myself to turn away and occupy myself with sliding a pair of homemade scones into the toaster oven.

“How are you feeling? Erin said I could give you some Motrin if your head hurts.”

“I’m fine.” He found the carton of fresh organic orange
juice in the refrigerator and poured us each a glass. “I’m not an invalid.”

“Well, you better get in touch with your parents. I called them last night and told them you were fine, but you know Alden—they’ll hear some wild, distorted rumor about how you took a bullet to the brain and developed a split personality and amnesia.”

He groaned. “Can’t anyone in this town mind their own damn business?”

“In a word, no.” I handed him the cordless phone. “Start dialing.” The toaster dinged, and I pulled out the tray of freshly warmed pastry. “And have a scone. They’re cranberry orange—your favorite.”

“I’ll call my parents in a second. But first I have to tell you something.”

My knee-jerk reaction was to assume the worst. “Oh no. What now?”

“It’s nothing bad…”

“You started dating again, didn’t you?” I snatched up Maisy the cat as she strolled by and cuddled her against my chest.

He stared at me. “Why would I start dating someone else? I can’t even handle the woman I have.”

“Well, then, why do you sound so ominous? Just tell me, okay? And hurry up, because the suspense is killing me.” I braced myself for the impending sucker punch.

One of his dimples appeared as the corner of his mouth tugged up. “Have you always been this paranoid?”

“Yes. Tell me.”

“Fine. When I fell out of that tree, and I was lying on the ground, I didn’t feel good.”

“You had a concussion. That’s understandable.”

“No, not physically. I mean, I didn’t feel good about my life. What happened with you and me…it’s bad.”

I focused all my attention on the cat. “That’s true.”

“So I was, lying there, and the world was spinning and I didn’t know when anyone would find me and all I could think was,
Casey’s going to be so disappointed.
”

“Because you fell out of a tree?”

“Because I went hunting with the guys. I know you hate hunting. Even though I didn’t shoot anything, it was a dumb thing to do because, you know, I did what the guys thought I should do instead of what you wanted me to do.”

“Peer pressure.” I nodded solemnly. “It’s a bitch.”

“Don’t make fun of me.” He looked ready to shrivel up and die. “This is hard enough already.”

“Okay, but Nick, who cares what the guys want you to do or what I want you to do? The real question is, what do
you
want to do?”

“That’s what I was thinking about. Well, I was trying to think about it; I was pretty out of it for awhile there. But I figured this much out: life is short.” He crossed his arms over his
broad chest. “And I’m wasting it. I have to make some changes, Case. Big ones.”

My gaze slid over to the phone. “Like not calling your parents ever again?”

“You’re pushing,” he said softly.

“Well, you’re digging your heels in,” I retorted, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s start over: what big changes do you have to make?”

“My job, for one thing. Why do I work in my dad’s office? Seriously, I hate that place. I hate wearing a suit and tie, and I’ll never be good enough for him. Ever since I quit law school, he’s been a miserable bastard to me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Good for you,” I said.

Relief dawned in his eyes. “Really?”

“It’s not really a secret that you aren’t cut out for life in a law firm.”

“Yeah, but all those years of expectations…” He chomped into a scone and gave me a pointed look. “I’m through getting pushed around.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you implying that
I
push you around?”

He just chewed his scone and waited.

I started to lose my temper. “You’re a grown man. If you didn’t want to get engaged, you should have said something. So don’t try to put that all on me, my friend, because—”

“You’re right. If I didn’t want to get married, I could have said no. But I didn’t. And you know why I didn’t?”

“Because you’d rather exact your revenge with years of psychological torture?”

“No. Because I wanted to marry you.”

I squeezed Maisy a little too hard, and she yowled. “Then why did you show up at the church with no tux and try to talk me out of it?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No kidding.”

“I always wanted to marry you, Casey. Always. But the way we did it, I wasn’t even part of the decision. You made up your mind for both of us, and that was that.”

“But—”

“Hang on, I’m not done. I was a jackass about the wedding, and I was a jackass about Thanksgiving. And you deserve better. But I’m hoping you’ll give me one more chance.”

I made a valiant effort to maintain my ice queen façade. “You’ve had more than enough chances already.”

“I know. But that was before I fell on my head.”

“Don’t do this to me, Nick. You keep promising me that you’ll change, but…no.” I held Maisy in front of me like a shield. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Let me move back in.”

“No.” I shrank back against the counter.

“I love you,” he swore. “I’ll always love you.”

“You refused to go to the courthouse with me,” I quavered.

“I’ll go right now.”

“Nick.”

“I mean it, let’s go.” He headed for the bedroom. “Give me thirty seconds to put on some pants and I’m ready. Go warm up the truck.”

“It’s Saturday,” I pointed out. “The courthouse is closed.”

“Oh.” He halted. “Crap. Let’s go to Atlantic City, then. Or, I know, Vegas! I’ll call the airlines and you pack your wedding dress.”

“This is your concussion talking.”

“Go ahead, mock me. But you’re not getting rid of me. We are going to be together forever.”

“So you’re quitting your job and moving back in?” I hitched up my pajama pants. “And all will be bliss?”

“You’re skeptical.” He seemed to relish the challenge. “That’s fine. I can live with that. Because I am going to win you back, baby.”

“This isn’t a game, Nick.”

“I won’t rush you. You take all the time you need. In the meantime, I’m going over to my folks’ house. The three of us need to have a chat.”

“You’re not supposed to drive yet, remember? Doctor’s orders.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can drive you.”

“You have to go open the store.”

“It’s no big deal if I’m half an hour late. No one’s pounding down my door to buy rawhides and dewormer at nine thirty on Saturday morning.”

“Forget it—the days of you babying me are over. I’ll take a cab.” He strode out of the bedroom wearing jeans, sneakers, and a navy pullover that brought out the blue in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do all this. I get the point.”

“No, you don’t. But you will.” When he leaned over and kissed my cheek, I caught a whiff of his fresh, woodsy scent layered beneath the antiseptic hospital smells. “Have a good day at work, honey. I’ll see you tonight. And don’t worry about dinner; I’ll take care of everything.”

“So what do you think?” I asked Tanya later that afternoon. She’d dropped the kids off with our mother for the evening and had come over to chat. With a winter storm advisory in effect, the store was completely empty. “I’m an idiot for even letting him back in the apartment, right?”

She fiddled with the tarnished silver bracelet on her wrist. “You think he’s going to disappoint you again.”

“
Of course
he’s going to disappoint me again.” I tried to sound matter-of-fact about this. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, right?”

She smiled, and for a moment, I glimpsed the incorrigible flirt she used to be. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Then why do you look so freaked out?”

I picked at the list of register codes taped to the counter. “Argh. You’re right—I don’t
want
to believe he’s going to pull the rug out from under me again, but…people don’t change over-night.”

“Maybe he’s matured,” Tanya suggested.

“In the last twenty-four hours?”

“Maybe that fall knocked some sense into him.” She laughed.

“Or maybe he’s just taking advantage of the Casey Nestor Luxury Hotel,” I said wryly. “A few breakfasts in bed, a few runs to the drugstore, maybe even a booty call or two, and then he’ll be on his way. And I’ll be so pissed with myself.”

“You’re having sex with him?”

“No, I made him sleep on the sofa last night, but he was walking around in boxers this morning, and I’m telling you, I almost tackled him to the ground. Damn pheromones.”

I walked over to the front door and turned the Open sign over to Closed. “Come on, there’s no point sitting around in here. Let’s run up to my apartment and I’ll give you the Lego sets I bought for the boys.”

“I thought you said Nick was making you dinner tonight.”

“Be serious. His idea of ‘making dinner’ is popping the top on a can of beer.” I hit the light switch and dimmed the front display area. “I’m telling you, you’re giving that boy way too much credit.”

As I opened the door to the apartment, I smelled cooking grease. The entryway was dark, but the golden glow of candlelight beckoned from the kitchen.

“Nick?” I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

“Welcome to Thanksgiving, part two,” Nick said grandly, stepping aside to reveal the table set with my antique china. “Dinner is served.”

Words failed me as I took in the eclectic spread he’d put together—tater tots, canned cranberry sauce, stuffing from a box, defrosted vegetables, and the culinary centerpiece: an enormous, charred turkey.

Luckily, Tanya had the presence of mind to speak for both of us. “Wow. Did you fry that turkey?”

“Yes, ma’am. The tater tots, too.” He looked so proud of himself. “Bought a deep fryer and went to town. I kind of cheated on the cranberries and the stuffing, but I did make an apple pie for dessert. With a graham cracker crust from scratch, even!”

Clearly, now was not the time to break it to him that apple pie didn’t usually go with graham cracker crust.

He pulled out a chair for me. “Have a seat. Would you like red wine or white?”

Tanya headed back toward the door. “Have fun, Case. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Nick looked chagrined. “You don’t have to go. There’s plenty to go around. I’ll just grab another chair—”

“Actually, she does have to go. You guys can do the in-law bonding thing another time.” I practically shoved Tanya out the door and whispered, “Don’t even say ‘I told you so.’”

“Bye,” she called. “Have a nice evening. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“He’s still sleeping on the sofa,” I swore.

“Lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me.”

When I returned to the dining room, Nick was pouring me a glass of white wine with a dish towel draped over his arm like a snooty waiter. “Zees is a very fine vintage. Over seventy-six points in
Wine Spectator.
”