The Good Widow(81)

“I’m a pretty lucky guy.” He smiles.

I smile back and take a deep breath. There’s going to be an explanation. There has to be.

“Hey, so where were you going just now? It looked like you were leaving.”

He furrows his brow.

I stare at him for a beat, searching his eyes, looking for the assurance that he’s not questioning me because he knows I was up to something. That it’s all in my head, and it’s my Nick I’m looking at. “I took the stairs to get a little cardio in,” I say, the sweatshirt feeling like a neon sign pointing toward my lie. “And I got hot while I was running—so I was about to throw this in my car,” I add. I hate drawing attention to James’s sweatshirt, but I can’t think of any other reason I’d be holding it.

“I’ve never seen that one before,” he says.

My heartbeat speeds up again. “I found it in the back of the closet today. I’d forgotten I had it.”

“You okay?” He squints at me.

I nod.

“Hey . . . let’s get out of here—go for a drive. There’s supposed to be a beautiful sunset tonight. I know a spot where we can watch it on the cliff in Newport Coast. It’ll be chilly, but you have that.” He motions toward the sweatshirt, and I think I see a flicker of something—doubt?—cross his face.

I hesitate, because I need time to think—to talk to Beth. To figure out how I’m going to explain why I have the purse. But I already told Nick I was surprising him.

“C’mon, let’s go. Gorgeous sunset. Me. What more could you ask for?”

Nick’s eyes are lighting up. He’s him. The funny one who sent me a hilarious cat meme yesterday. The sexy man whose eyes almost disappear when he’s laughing hard.

“Okay,” I say, and open the back door, gently putting the sweatshirt on the seat as I calm myself down.

“Good answer!” Nick says, and gets in the passenger seat.

"What do you think is the best way to get there?" I ask, starting the car.

“Head down the one thirty-three; the place I’m thinking of is in Newport Coast off PCH—best views ever.”

We head toward the beach, and Nick rolls his window down, resting his arm on the top of the door. Then he turns to me. “You want to stop for ice cream first?”

I think about last night. How we toasted our love with our cones. Mint chip for me. A double scoop of vanilla for him. I remember thinking it was the first time I’d really felt peaceful in as long as I could remember. And I’d love to have that feeling again. Because I know once I ask him about the purse and the ID, there’s no turning back.

“That sounds nice.”



We eat our cones at a table outside the parlor and watch the waves slowly roll in. It’s peaceful, hypnotic—almost enough to let me pretend I wasn’t in Nick’s walk-in closet just an hour ago. He talks mostly about his last shift—and I try my best to listen. But I can only go a few minutes without thinking about the ID and the purse. And how he will explain them. If he can explain them. Beth would tell me I’m crazy to be sitting here eating ice cream when I should be confronting him. But—and there are so many buts. Because either way, someone is going to get hurt by what is said. And I’m tired of being hurt. I think back to when I’d glanced through my peephole that day the police came to tell me James was dead. How I would have loved to have just a few more moments of not knowing! Just one more day of having my biggest problem be a leaky faucet. I ponder those last moments more than I should—wishing I could go back and be the naive girl behind that door.

“You were on my mind today,” Nick says when we get back inside my car.

“Oh?” I ask as I turn the ignition and back out of the parking space.

“I think about you a lot.”

“And?”

“Well, I don’t want to scare you away by saying this—in fact the guys at the station told me I’d be nuts to admit this to you right now. But I’m going to take a risk and do it anyway . . .” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I realized that you’re my soul mate.”

I let the words sit there for a moment, turning them over in my mind. I’ve never believed there’s just one person for everyone.

“Too much?” He laughs lightly, searching my face.

“No,” I say, and pause before adding, “I’m just taking it all in.”

Taking him in. Wondering if I know him at all.

“I realize it’s probably too soon when we’ve just said the l word, but it’s different with you.”

“Wow . . . I’m . . . flattered.”

“Flattered?” he asks, and I cringe.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean flattered. I don’t know. I’m a little caught off guard is all.”

Nick stares at me, almost as if he’s looking through me. And I feel pressure to say something to take the weight of his gaze off me. “I love you,” I say, but my stomach knots at the words. They feel wrong. Like they’re the last thing I should be saying right now.

“But that’s not the same thing, is it?” he asks, sounding hurt. “Do you believe you’re my soul mate?”

His phrasing of the question throws me off. Am I understanding him right? That he isn’t asking if he’s mine? Just if I think I’m his?