My One and Only(92)

“Come on. Let’s not fight on the sidewalk.” He steered me into a restaurant. “Table for two, please,” he said to the young woman at the counter.

“We’re closed,” she muttered, turning the page of her magazine. She had a tattoo on her shoulder—Hello Kitty wearing an eye patch. “We open at 11:30.”

“It’s 11:29,” I pointed out a trifle sharply.

“Fine.” She snatched up a few leather-bound menus and led us to a table under a large clock, then stomped away.

I took a breath, then another. Nick didn’t look at me, just began building a tower out of sugar packets.

“All right,” he said, “Christopher checked into a program last winter. He’s been sober for about ten months.”

“And how long has he had a drinking problem?” I asked, calmly. Felt as if I was in a deposition.

“Since high school.”

Crotch. Half his life, in other words. I took a long sip of water, not able to look at Nick.

“Harper, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s not really your problem, is it?” Nick asked. “Chris has a good heart, and he’s trying really hard.” More sugar packets were put to use.

I unclenched my jaw. “Nick, Willa’s been married twice before to good-hearted men who tried really hard. Husband Number One tried really hard to stay out of jail. That lasted three weeks. Husband Number Two tried really hard not to be g*y. That lasted about a month and a half.”

“She knows how to pick ’em,” Nick said, glancing up with a grin.

I bit my lip hard, started to say something, then broke off. “Nick,” I said in a harsh whisper, “I don’t want to see my sister go through another divorce. Divorce sucks, as we both know. It’s not funny. She has terrible judgment when it comes to men.”

He added another layer to his tiny building.

“Will you stop doing that?” I said, reaching over and grabbing the packets.

“You just wrecked Taipei 101,” he said. Then he sighed, sitting back in his chair. “Look, Harper, I don’t know what to say. I know you want to protect Willa, but she’s an adult. So is Chris.”

“Really, Nick? The inventor of the Thumbie and the girl who hasn’t held any job for more than two consecutive months?”

His mouth tightened. “Not your call, Harper.”

“And here’s the other thing, Nick.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “We’re…together now. Sort of. You slept with me, but you didn’t tell me about this, and I just feel…blindsided.”

“There hasn’t been a lot of time, Harper,” he said.

There’d been time. That dinner in Aberdeen when he made me the house out of French fries. Last night, when we’d raided the kitchen around midnight. “Well,” I said, opting to let those go, “would you have told me eventually?”

He didn’t answer. Which was, of course, an answer. “So you have no problem sleeping with me, but I’m only privy to some things,” I said. “And you decide what those things are.”

He held up his hands. “Okay. Just…stop. Just for a minute, okay?” He looked up, smiled his thanks at the waitress. “We’re not quite ready to order,” he said.

“Fine,” she said. “You guys were, like, the ones beating down the door to get in here.”

“Back off, missy,” I snapped.

“Fine,” she repeated, rolling eyes and storming away yet again.

“You know she’s going to spit in our food,” Nick said.

“Nick, back to the subject at hand,” I ground out.

He sighed. “Look. Let’s not argue about Chris and Willa, because that gets us nowhere.”

“Does Willa even know?” I asked.

“You mean, did I sit her down and tell her about Christopher’s drinking? No. I didn’t. It wasn’t my place.”

“Are you aware that concealment of addiction can be grounds for annulment, Nick?”

His mouth tightened. “Harper, their marriage and issues and problems are theirs. Not ours. So please, let’s not ruin things by talking about another couple.”

I tried not to grind my teeth. “Nick, two things. First, given the fact that I constantly bail Willa out of disastrous situations, I think I should’ve known about this. And I’m feeling a little…hurt that you didn’t see fit to tell me. But I’ll let that go. Or I’ll try. Secondly, their issues do affect us! These are our siblings, Nick. Not some strangers. If they get a divorce, that matters to us.”

“You’re such a cynic.” He shook his head.

“Don’t start. I’m a realist, okay? Don’t forget what I do for a living.”

“As if you’d let me.”

We stared at each other across the table. The feeling of impasse was very familiar.

“Let’s change the subject, okay?” Nick suggested gently. He reached over and took my hand.

“Sure,” I said briskly. “What would you like to discuss? The weather? Baseball?”

Nick grinned. “The Yankees beat the Sox last night. Ten to three.”

“You’re hardly getting on my good side, Nick.” But I allowed a small smile.