The Good Widow(76)
“Dylan.”
She jerked her head to the side and saw Nick leaning against the wall by the dumpster.
“Hi,” he said when their eyes locked.
But Dylan’s lips wouldn’t move; her feet were frozen in place. He smiled at her, and she felt her arms prick with goose bumps. It was his flashy grin, as she always called it. The one that could charm anyone from a baby to an eighty-year-old woman. Why was he smiling at her like that? Like nothing had happened? Something didn’t feel right. She wanted to call out, to race back inside, but she was worried he would get angry. Chase her. Cause a scene. But she was just as scared to stand there.
“Dylan, why won’t you say something, my beautiful girl?” He laughed—it was the one she’d heard when they were watching The Tonight Show or he was telling her his latest firefighter joke. But he looked different—his facial features contorted by the shadows. “Dylan?” Nick tried again.
“What are you doing here?” Dylan tried to keep her voice from shaking, her car keys making an indentation in her palm.
“I’ve been so lonely, Dyl. My life is empty without you in it. And you’re lonely too, I know it. I can see it in your eyes. That’s how we both felt when we met, remember?”
He took a step toward her, and she stiffened.
“We’ve already talked, Nick. There’s nothing more to say.”
“You look upset. Don’t be upset with me.”
“I’m not,” she lied, hoping the shadows were concealing her racing heartbeat. She was sure it was visible through her T-shirt.
“Good answer.” He grinned. “Because this can all be resolved right now. Now that you’ve had some time to process everything—to realize you do want to be with me.” Dylan watched with disbelief as he dug into his pocket and pulled out her engagement ring. The diamond caught the light behind him. “Here, put it back on.” He held it out to her. “You’re my soul mate.”
“Nick—”
He put his hand up as if to stop her from disagreeing. “You are, Dyl. You are.”
She took a small step backward, slipping slightly on a puddle of oil. She tried to calculate how far she was from the door. Maybe she could reach it, then lock it before he followed her inside. But then what? She willed one of her coworkers to walk out. Where was Margo with her cigarette or Eric with the trash?
“Take it, Dyl, and we’ll put all this behind us. We’ll fly somewhere—anywhere—and get married tonight!”
Why was he acting as if she could be so wrong about her own feelings? As if they could just pick up and move forward? She stared at the ring—the one he knew didn’t fit her. Didn’t he?
She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut, her instincts telling her something was seriously off with Nick.
Why hadn’t she seen it before now?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JACKS—AFTER
As I drive home, Briana’s accusations about Nick are trying to clog my thoughts. But I’m choosing to think of the Nick I know—the one I’ve known for months—instead of the man presented to me by a woman I met one day ago. I’m focused on the Nick with the perpetually mussy hair, the scuffed cowboy boots he wears rain or shine, the dozen different smiles. That’s the Nick I spent last night with. The one who made me laugh so hard when he told me a joke about a firefighter’s hose that I nearly spit out my ice cream. The one who told me he was proud of me.
The one who told me he loved me.
I pull into my driveway and try calling Beth for the second time, but she doesn’t pick up. I send her a text that I need to talk ASAP, but I already know what she’ll say because it’s what I’m feeling too. That this roommate is just angry. Grieving. Jealous. Whatever it is. That she’s trying to hurt me the way she’s been hurt. What other objective would she have in telling me these crazy things about Nick?
I chew my cuticle as I stare at the screen of my phone, trying to push Briana’s image out of my mind. The way she didn’t blink when she said she’d taken a risk coming there.
Hi, beautiful. What are you doing?
Nick’s text pops up, and I smile.
A sign. Take that, Briana!
Hi! I just got back to my place.
I see the bubble that he’s responding and wait, my stomach fluttering.
Miss you! Do you miss me?
Of course!
Ok just wanted to say hi! Gtg—cat stuck in a tree ;)
When Beth’s text comes in next, I start to feel silly for trying to get hold of her so many times.
You ok? Saw two missed calls from u. I’m in lame-ass PTA meeting with horrible reception. Will be done here in 15. Can we talk then? Or is this a 911?
All ok! Meet you at your place in thirty?
Perfect!
I decide to walk to Beth’s. The fresh air will do me good—the best way to put this crazy morning behind me. To focus on what I want to focus on—that I feel happy. Finally. Thankfully. It’s late morning, and there’s still a cloud cover, so I open the closet for something with long sleeves to put on over my tank top and jeans. I stop when I see James’s sweatshirt. I forgot it was in here. Slowly I reach out and finger the gray cotton fabric, remembering the first time I wore it. We were watching fireworks on the Balboa Peninsula, and he gave it to me when I started shivering. He didn’t have a shirt on underneath it, but he didn’t care. He stood there shirtless in the sand as the sky blazed with light. He explained that he’d had it since college, hence the tiny holes in the sleeve and the frayed band around the waist. And somewhere along the way, it became mine. I’d claim it before he could, and he’d just laugh and shake his head, not understanding I loved it because it was his.