More Than Words(64)

“I think we might have,” Nina said softly.

“Maybe we can still make it work,” Tim said, leaning toward Nina. “I’ll try harder. And maybe you can try harder. And we can figure it all out. We can live the life our parents always dreamed for us.”

Nina shook her head sadly. He wasn’t even listening. “I don’t think it’ll make a difference.” She was slipping the necklace over her head. “No matter how hard we try, I don’t think it’ll work. You’re right. I’m not who you thought I was. I’m not who I thought I was. And I want to live my own life, not one that was dreamed for me by someone else.”

“Nina,” Tim said. He looked heartbroken. She felt heartbroken, too. But for the first time in a month, the low-level panic, one she couldn’t put a name to, subsided. This felt right. “We’re partners. We’re a team. We always have been.”

“Maybe we were, but . . . I’m sorry.” Nina held the ring in her hand, the beautiful ring he’d picked out just for her, with sapphires the color of her eyes. “You’re someone I love and care about and want to spend time with until we’re as old and gray as we’ll ever get. You’ve been in my life forever and I always want you there. But—”

“Then why can’t we fix this?” Tim still looked broken.

“I don’t think I can agree to marry anyone right now,” Nina said. The ring had slipped between her fingers and was dangling from her hand, swaying slightly on its chain. “At least not until I figure out who I am.”

“Is this because you found out your parents’ marriage wasn’t as wonderful as you thought it was?”

“No,” Nina said. “This is about us, about me. Not about them.”

“Is it?” he asked, quietly.

Nina thought about it. It wasn’t, but also it was. This conversation was the culmination of everything that had happened over the past month—or maybe even longer. “It’s both,” she said.

He took a deep breath. “You’re still holding that fund-raiser on Tuesday, right?” he asked.

Nina nodded.

“Let’s decide after that. And there’s no need to rush a decision about whether we should work together or not. I really believe, with all my heart, that we’re meant to be a team. In everything. I’m not ready to give up on us. Let’s try. For a few days. Let’s really try. And then we can see.”

And because she loved him. Because he was her oldest friend, Nina said yes. And she called Rafael to say she wasn’t going to be able to make it that night after all.





59



Nina and Tim spent the whole weekend together—a visit to MoMA, dinner at the Modern, a ride on the Carousel—but even though it would’ve looked to anyone on the outside like they were having a great time, Nina felt awkward, like everything was strained, like one wrong word would deflate the whole weekend. The only way she made it through was by concentrating on the fund-raiser. In her spare moments, she worked with Christian, with Caro, with Jane, making sure that everything was perfect. On Monday, she spent an hour with the bartender at Los Tortolitos creating a specialty cocktail. And she promised TJ that after the fund-raiser, she’d be there full time, ready to take over the company.

She also called her father’s lawyer and left a message with his secretary, asking if he wouldn’t mind looking up whether Manxome Consulting was still an active corporation.



* * *



? ? ?

And then Tuesday night came. They had 250 RSVPs, and Christian was glowing when he showed up at the hotel. Nina had arrived early, too, and Caro kept shooing her out of the way. “You’re hosting this,” she said, “not staffing it,” when she found Nina rearranging the leaves in one of the centerpieces.

Mia walked in with a couple of other people who worked advance for the campaign, and Nina stopped to say hello.

“That’s a beautiful dress,” Mia said.

Nina had put on a Badgley Mischka maxidress with an elegant floral design that looked as if it had been hand-painted on the fabric. It was one of her recent Pris purchases and made Nina feel like a living, breathing piece of art.

“Thank you,” Nina said.

Soon after, Tim appeared in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, and the two of them circulated, saying hello to friends and acquaintances and encouraging them to try the specialty cocktail and the chef’s newest hors d’oeuvres creations.

“We’re so good at this,” Tim said to her as their paths crossed in the ballroom, a glass of scotch in his hand. “And you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Nina said with a smile. Maybe this was what Tim wanted her to see. What their life could be like, would be like. As she was greeting people, though, Nina had the same feeling she did at the Saturday brunches—like she was playing a role, the part of the heiress. Though she was no longer the heiress, she realized, she was the chair of the Gregory Corporation. The realization bowled her over, and she knew she had to leave the room or she’d start to cry. She went to take a breather in the green room they’d set up down the hall.

But when she walked in, Rafael was there, practicing his speech in the mirror.

“Oh!” she said. “I’m so sorry.” It was the first time they’d seen each other since their conversation on the bench last week, and her heart raced. Cortisol and adrenaline.