My One and Only(59)

It was very pretty…brick buildings with some nice detail. Clean. Friendly. If I was looking for a place to hide, I’d pick here. Maybe my mother had, too, at some point.

“You hungry?” Nick asked.

“Starving.” The six-pack of doughnuts was a distant memory.

No one else was inside the restaurant, and the bartender welcomed us with an amiable twang, asked us where we were from and didn’t mind the fact that Coco was with us. People were nice out here. In no rush, not like us Yankees, always dashing about from here to there.

Nick and I sat in a booth, each of us ordering a reuben, which was surprisingly excellent. Nick read the local paper, idly stealing my fries as if we were an old married couple, occasionally giving one to Coco. He asked the bartender a question about the area. Lou was a local, answered a few questions about the dams we’d just seen, then said he’d been to New York twice, and the two men chatted amiably about restaurants in the city.

Nick had always been good with people. Much better than I was.

When Lou had to answer the phone, Nick took out his book, a manly tome on the great subway systems of the world.

“We probably want to get going, huh, Nick? To the airport? So you can be rid of me and I can get home?”

He didn’t look up from his book. “We’re only a few hours away, Harper. Try not to stroke out, okay? I want some huckleberry pie. Can’t say I’ve ever even heard of it before.” He glanced up. “Life is all about new experiences, don’t you think? Carpe diem and all that?”

I rolled my eyes. This whole little road trip was getting a little…unsettling. I wanted to be home. All this sky, all this land…it made me feel exposed. Too many memories, too much current buzzing between us. Nick turned back to his book.

A couple came in, greeted the bartender by name and sat at a nearby table. Perfect. I could eavesdrop, one of my favorite pastimes. The man spoke first.

“What does my wittle kitty want?”

Jackpot! A man (and I use the term loosely) speaking baby talk? He reached across the table and tried to take Wittle Kitty’s hands. Kitty ignored.

“Is oo a wittle bit mad?”

Oh. Dear. God. I kicked Nick’s shin to get his attention.

“No kicking,” he said unquietly, not looking up from the book.

“Kitty? Oo wuvs me, wight?”

“Jesus, Alec, can you drop the LOL Kitty talk? I hate those damn things,” she hissed (appropriately, I thought).

“I fawt oo wuved da LOL Kitties!” Alec said, making a pouty lip. “Oo wuvs dose kittehs! Wemember, Pwitty Kitty?”

“God. Lou, can I get a beer, please? A Bud?”

“Um, Lainey, sweetie,” Alec said, using normal diction. “It’s only one o’clock.”

“Lou? A Bud?”

“Coming up,” the bartender answered, frowning.

The LOL Kittys man recovered. “Well, what looks good, honey? Other than you, that is?”

She sighed pointedly. “I’ll have a quesadilla with barbecued chicken.”

Alec smiled. “Same for me, Lou.”

“You got it,” Lou answered, then looked over at Nick and me. “How about you folks? Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re fine,” I said. “The check would be great, though. We still have a long way to go.”

“I’ll have a piece of huckleberry pie,” Nick said. “And some coffee would be great.”

Fine. I’d be patient. It was possible. Taking a slow, deep breath and resisting the urge to kick Nick once more, in a softer part, perhaps, I resumed my eavesdropping. Nothing else to do.

“Should we talk about the wedding, sweetie?” LOL Kitty Man asked.

“Alec, not now!” Lainey snapped. “Okay? Can we just…sit? Please? For crying out loud?”

“Sure, sweetie,” he said instantly.

Doomed. There was no way in hell they’d make it.

Alas, Alec apparently reigned supreme in the Land of the Obtuse. “You know, I think Caroline would be a nice name,” he said.

“For what?” Lainey asked.

“For a baby. A daughter.”

She stared at him, disgust and incredulity painted on her face with a heavy hand. “Whatever.”

“Hi, there” I said, waving to the happy couple.

“Don’t,” Nick muttered, still reading.

“My name’s Harper, and I couldn’t help overhearing.” I stood up and approached. “Mind if I sit for a second?”

“Not at all,” Alec replied. “I’m Alec, and this is my fiancée, Lainey.”

“Hello. Harper James. I’m a divorce attorney.”

“Harper,” Nick called, glancing up from his book. There was a note of warning in his voice.

“I couldn’t help overhearing you two,” I said, ignoring my ex. “Alec, you seem like a nice guy. And Lainey, you seem…well, listen. I’m just wondering how you two are doing.”

“We’re great!” Alec said with tragic sincerity. “Um…why do you care?”

“Call it professional curiosity. See, I hate to be rude, but I feel compelled to point out that if you two are already having trouble, it’s not a great sign.”