My One and Only(35)
“Oh, so you were completely blameless?”
“I’d admit to, I don’t know…thirty percent of the responsibility for our implosion.”
“Yes. Blame me by all means,” he said, rolling his eyes. “God knows I was such a bastard, working toward our future, supporting us, adoring you—”
“Adoring? Is that what it was? See, I was thinking ignoring. Sounds like adoring, but quite different, in fact.”
From up ahead came the sound of voices. The rest of the gang, no doubt.
“Harper,” Nick said, pulling Satan to a stop, “I want you to do something for me.”
Bob stopped also, his head dropping so precipitously that I almost slid down his neck. “What’s that, Nick?”
“Leave Chris and Willa alone, okay? Don’t…infect them.”
Bull’s-eye. I tried not to flinch, but his words clamped down hard on my heart. I didn’t say anything. “What I mean is,” Nick continued almost gently, “you’re cynical, Harper. You don’t believe in commitment. Your whole job is splitting up couples—”
“See, that’s just ignorant, Nick, not to mention clichéd and unfair,” I answered hotly. “I don’t split anyone up. They’re already apart. I facilitate a legal process, get a fair settlement for my clients and guide them through a difficult time of life. I have absolutely nothing to do with the failure of marriage.”
“Except ours.”
“Yes. Except ours. Takes two to tango, though, Nicholas, dear.”
We stared at each other for a stony minute. This time, Nick was the first to look away. “Whatever,” he grunted. “But listen. Christopher’s had a rough time in the past few years. Willa’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s crazy about her, and the feeling seems to be mutual. Can you just leave them alone and let them sink or swim on their own?”
“Rough time how?”
“Let him tell you himself, if he wants to. Or let Willa. But Harper…leave them alone. Okay?”
“It’s just that—”
“Harper,” he said, his voice fast and hot. “I came back for you today. I was willing to let Gentle Ben eat me instead of you. Can you please do me this one favor?”
Those gypsy eyes were angry. And he had a point.
“Okay,” I said grudgingly. “But if Willa asks me for advice, I’m going to tell her what I think.”
“Fair enough,” he said, and with that, he kicked Satan into a canter and left me to wake my dozing horse and join the others.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE MAID OF HONOR HAD some very impressive circles under her eyes the next day. I woke up early—well, I’d been waking up all night, Nick’s voice echoing in my head. I never stopped loving you. Don’t infect them. Et cetera. At five-thirty, I tiptoed out of my room to the sound of Dennis’s gentle snoring, Coco in my arms. My little dog and I took a long walk along the quiet lake, watching the mist rise silently off the water, the pines dark and wise. A bald eagle swooped silently down and snatched a fish from the water with barely a splash, then disappeared again into the clouds.
I never stopped loving you.
Crotch.
Well, I thought briskly, Nick’s feelings were what they were. True or not, they didn’t really have anything to do with my life anymore. Soon I’d be back on the Vineyard, and Nick would be safely relegated once more to the land of memory.
As I walked back toward the Swiss chalet-style lodge, I saw a lone figure standing on the shore. It was Nick. Before he could see me, I dodged to the other side of the path and went in the front entrance, avoiding him, and continued to avoid him all through breakfast. Master of evasion, that was me. After the meal, I claimed the need to work—not a lie—and wrote a brief for one of my coworkers and emailed clients as well as Kim and Father Bruce. I sent Tommy a “keep your chin up” note, updated a few files…stalled, in other words, until it was time to get ready for the ceremony.
I made sure Coco had her bunny right next to her on my bed, smooched her tiny head and offered her several bribes in the form of the bacon I’d swiped at breakfast. Then I lugged my dress down to Willa’s suite, smiling automatically at the other guests I passed in the hall. Everyone was hurrying downstairs…the wedding was supposed to take place on the patio of the lodge, in front of the achingly blue lake, the clear wind and ragged mountains bearing witness as eagles soared, yadda yadda ad infinitum.
That had been the idea, anyway; Mother Nature had other plans in the form of, as BeverLee put it, a “blue-norther,” or, to the rest of us who weren’t from the Lone Star State, a huge rainstorm. One could almost say it was a sign. At the moment, the staff of the lodge and a few wedding guests were dragging in the chairs and tables before everything was hopelessly drenched.
“Here you are! Come on, sweet knees, come on, get in that dress. Oh, you got purple, that’s just fine, Harper. Good girl.” BeverLee swept me into Willa’s room and practically kicked me into the bathroom to change.
“Hi, Wills,” I called.
“Hi!” she answered. “Can’t wait to see your dress!”
“Me, too,” I muttered.
Rather hoping that this moment wouldn’t come to pass, I’d bought my dress in Boston about two hours before my flight. It looked pretty on the mannequin, and it was the requisite purple…well, lavender. I slid out of my other clothes, pulled the dress off the hanger and tried it on. Oh, crotch.