My One and Only(102)

“Harper dear?” Sarah called.

“Who’s that?” Nick asked.

I was hyperventilating a little. “Actually, see, this is kind of funny—”

“Nick! What are you doing here? Did Chris send you?”

Oh, hell and damnation. Willa had arisen from her nap and came now into the kitchen behind me.

“Willa,” he said, though he was staring at me. The warm, hot fudge look in his eyes dried to a hardened lump of tar. “What a surprise.”

“Chris didn’t send you?”

“And why would he do that?” Nick asked, his voice deceptively mild.

“Because I left him,” Willa said, her eyes filling. “Harper was right. He wasn’t good enough for me! It was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Those weren’t my exact words,” I said, cringing.

Nick took matters into his own hands and tried to open the door. I tried to close it.

“Harper, what the hell?” he muttered, pushing it open all the way. Not fair. He was heavier. He stood in the kitchen between Willa and me, looking at both of us in turn before settling his gaze on Willa. “One week? That’s all, Willa? You gave him a week?”

“I should never have married him in the first place,” she said, starting to do that little hitching breath thing again. Kim, bless her, came in as well and took Willa’s arm, steering her over to the table. I glanced out to the deck, where Jack and Sarah had turned to look at our little soap opera.

“Nick, listen,” I said. “You have to go just for a little while, okay? This is not a good time.”

“No, I can see that,” Nick said tightly. And he didn’t know the half of it. “I thought you said you wouldn’t interfere.”

“Look, I actually didn’t—”

“How did you get home, Willa?” he asked tightly.

“Harper gave me her credit card number, in case things went south,” my sister answered, blowing her nose loudly.

Nick’s jaw tightened. “Nice, Harper.”

“It wasn’t exactly like—Oh, crap.”

Jack and Sarah had decided to join us. “Hello there,” said Sarah, blinking as she came in from the bright sunlight. “We’re Jack and Sarah Costello. And you are…?”

“Nick’s my brother-in-law,” Willa said wetly. “Hi, Mrs. Costello, Mr. Costello, nice to see you again.”

“Costello?” Nick said. His voice was very soft.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Jack asked Willa.

“Oh, nothing,” Willa said, her face crumpling.

I just stood there, unable to figure a way out of this mess, choked to silence by the guilt python.

Then I heard my bedroom door open, and Dennis came in, as well. Wearing boxers and nothing else, his brawny build on full display. “Hey, I didn’t know we had a crowd. Hi, Ma, Dad. Hi, Willa, what’s up?” He rubbed his eyes, then focused on Nick. “Nick! How’s it hanging? You here to offer congratulations or something?”

With terrible slowness, Nick’s gaze slid to me. “Congratulations on what?” he asked. I closed my eyes.

Dennis put his arm around me. “Dude. We’re getting married.”

“And, not to be too presumptuous,” Sarah said, leaning forward with one of the bridal magazines, “I think I found you a dress. See? So elegant!”

Nick just stared at me for a minute, and the world seemed to stop as I felt the full weight of his disappointment…no. His disgust.

“Well,” he said calmly. “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” He glanced at his watch. “Sorry to say, I have to run.”

And then he was out the door, into the sunshine.

“I would’ve thought he’d have a little more to say than that,” Willa muttered.

“He’s not here for—you know what? Be right back,” I said, my paralysis shattering. I bolted outside, my sandals crunching on the driveway, little fragments of crushed shells stabbing into my feet. “Nick!” I called. “Wait! Hold on a sec.”

He didn’t. He was actually on his phone, calling a cab, probably. Or a hit man. “Nick! Hang on! Please!”

I caught up to him at the bottom of my hill, right in front of the dock, where already, tourists were boarding their charter boats for a day of fishing.

“Nick, this is not what it seems.” I put my hand on his arm, but he shook it off. “Nick! I’m not engaged to Dennis,” I said. The wind blew the hair into my eyes, and I shoved it back.

“I don’t believe this,” he said. “I mean, I figured you’d have an escape plan, but engaged? Wow, Harper. That was fast. Or maybe not. Maybe you never broke up with Dennis in the first place. I mean, look at you. Your hair’s down, you’re wearing a pretty dress, a ring that would choke a pony, breaking up my brother’s marriage and all set to have a lovely day with your fiancé and his family!”

“Nick, come on! I’m not marrying him.”

He shook his head, looking at the sky. “Does he have any idea that you’ve been with me, Harper?”

“By ‘been with,’ do you mean ‘slept with’?” I asked, biting a cuticle.

“Yes, Harper! Does Dennis know you slept with me?”