My One and Only(63)

When a clap of thunder broke right over our heads, I shrieked a little and Coco reverted from fearless Jack Russell to vulnerable Chihuahua. Faithless mutt that she was, she chose Nick as her shelter, burrowing against his ribs, almost trying to hide behind him.

“Don’t worry, pooch,” he said, adjusting her a little.

“Give her the bunny,” I said, and Nick did, tucking Coco’s stuffed animal against his ribs. My dog nestled under Nick’s arm and sighed. For a second, I felt a little flash of jealousy. Toward my dog. Yes, I was jealous of Coco, nestled against Nick, his clever, beautiful hand stroking her from head to tail, head to tail. Okay. That’s enough, Harper. Snap out of it. He has a stepdaughter. Which means he also has a wife.

Scanning the horizon for a twister, I saw none, but my visibility was impaired as the hail ended abruptly and the rain began. It fell in sheets, streaming over the windshield. I cleared my throat. “So. Think we should try to find a ditch or something?”

Nick opened the door for a second, looked out, then closed it again. “I think we should stay put. Tornado Alley’s farther south, right? If we get out, we’ll just get soaked. And I don’t see any ditches or bridges, even if we did need one.”

“Okay. Call for help, then?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

I flipped open my phone. “No signal.”

He checked his phone, as well. “Me, neither. On to plan B, then. Sit here and wait for the Children of the Corn.”

This brought on another round of giggles. “I think it would actually be the Children of the Sugar Beets,” I said, peering out the rain-streaked window.

“Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” he said, flashing a smile. His eyes crinkled, gorgeous crow’s feet framing those lovely dark pools. (Crikey, listen to me, but there it was, his eternal effect on me.) And Nick was still looking at me, still smiling, and damn. My face felt a little warm. And my face wasn’t alone. Girl parts tightened, legs weakened. I sat up a little straighter and ran my hands along the leather-coated steering wheel. The rain was gentler now, which was reassuring.

“So. You have a stepdaughter, Nick. Does that mean you also have a wife?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, just turned his attention to Coco, who appeared to be sleeping. Another roll of thunder barreled across the sky, and rain streaked the windshield.

“We’re divorced,” he said.

Divorced. Twice—once from me, once from Wife #2. Knowing Nick, that must’ve hurt. A lot. “I take it she’s older if she has a kid in college?” Why, that didn’t matter.

“Right. She’s…let’s see. Forty-three? Yeah.”

“How long were you married?”

“Three years. We’ve been apart for almost four now.” He glanced at me, smile now gone. “Her name is Jane, she’s very nice. Works in finance. Amicable split.” He paused. “Still friends.”

I sat, listening to the rain drumming on the roof of the car, and swallowed carefully. First, I was jealous of my dog. Now I was jealous of his second ex-wife.

For a brief second, I tried to imagine having Nick as my friend over these past twelve years. It wouldn’t have worked, but still. The image of being able to think of him without a razor slash to the heart…that would’ve been nice, to have heard his laugh, to have been able to talk to him, meet him for coffee. I pictured the two of us walking down the street, arm in arm, old friends, a warm and easy affection between us. Yeah, right.

But it surprised me, how much that image squeezed my heart.

“So why’d you break up, since she’s so nice?” I asked, and my voice was a little tight.

He didn’t answer for a few seconds. “We grew apart,” he said finally.

Ah. How many times over the years had a client said that to me? It was code for infidelity, and knowing Nick, I’d bet anything he wasn’t the one who strayed. “But you’re still friends?”

“Yes. Isabel didn’t deserve another disappearing father figure. Jane works on Wall Street, not far from me, so we wanted to be civilized.”

How mature. Childish resentment blossomed like a fungus. Probably they all had dinner together and went to the Metropolitan and Yankees games and all that. “And what’s Isabel like?” I asked.

Nick smiled, and my stupid jealousy flared again. “She’s great. Smart, outgoing, cute as a bug’s ear. She’s got a beautiful voice. Her group sang at Carnegie last fall. Here.” Like any good father, he pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. “That’s high school graduation.” She was very pretty…china-blue eyes, straight blond hair, sweet, genuine smile. “Beautiful,” I said truthfully. I petted Coco for reassurance, but she didn’t take her face out of the crook of Nick’s arm. Traitor.

“Thanks. Not that I had anything to do with it.” He put his wallet away.

My heart felt a bit…sore. Not, I told myself, because Nick had married someone else (though you’d think he could’ve mentioned it one time, right?). But because somewhere out there was a child (albeit a nearly grown child) who loved him, not to mention her mother, whom Nick once loved and maybe still did but certainly didn’t hate.

But I wouldn’t say anything. No. I’d just bite my tongue on this one. “So you and your ex-wife…Jane, you said?” Ah, my iron resolve. Nick nodded, and there was a little smile around his mouth, which I felt like a poison dart to the throat. “You and Jane get together, go to Izzy’s concerts, have Sunday brunch, stuff like that?”