Author: Kristan Higgins

Then Nick cut the engine, jumped out of the car and hugged me, and I hugged him back so hard it hurt, and he kissed me fiercely. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered, and I couldn’t speak, it hurt so much to think about even a day without him, let alone forever, because of course I didn’t expect things to actually work out.

But they did. He called me every day, and we talked for hours. He emailed me at least once a day, sent me tacky New York City T-shirts and Yankees dolls (I’d stick safety pins through their heads and send them back) and really good coffee from a little place on Bleeker Street. I interned at a law firm in Hartford that summer, and a couple of times a month, Nick would take the train to Connecticut to see me, since I felt a little gun-shy about going down to see him.

His mom died suddenly in October—an aneurysm—and I drove down to Pelham, New York, for the wake. When I walked in, the look on his face—love, and surprise and gratitude—went straight to my heart. He introduced me to his sparse family, an aunt, a couple of cousins. Nick’s parents had divorced long ago, and his mom never remarried. When I went back to school, I sent him quirky cartoons cut from the English department’s copies of the New Yorker. Baked oatmeal raisin cookies when he came to visit.

He was snarky and smart and thoughtful and irreverent—and a little sad—and the combination was unbreachable. The amount of feeling I had at the sight of him, the rush the sound of his voice could cause, the heat, the everything…it was terrifying. We were, forgive me, soul mates, though I’d have stuck a fork in my jugular before saying that out loud.

So I tried to keep things light, dodged the more serious and intense moments, never said those three little words. Not until one night at Amherst and Nick was up for a rare weekend. I’d been applying to law schools, and applications were scattered all over my room. Not one of the schools I was aiming for was in New York. Even though Columbia and NYU both had great environmental law programs, I wasn’t about to apply there. Not when Nick lived in Manhattan, uh-uh. It would be too obvious. Mean too much. Absolutely would not build my life around a man, as my mother had, and look where that got everyone.

Nick looked through the brochures and checklists… Duke, Stanford, Tufts. He gave me a long, silent look. I ignored him and chattered on with some inane story about my roomie and her inability to load the dishwasher. We went to a movie on campus. I pretended not to notice that Nick was bothered.

That night, he jerked awake. “You okay?” I muttered sleepily.

He looked at me, his eyes a little wild in the light from the streetlamp.

I sat up. “Nick?”

“Do you love me, Harper?”

I started a little. Maybe it was the darkness, or the hour, or the slightly lost look in his beautiful eyes, but I couldn’t lie. I took his hand and looked at it, traced his fingers, the sweet underside of his wrist. “Yes,” I whispered.

He gave a half nod. Didn’t say he loved me back. He didn’t have to. I knew. We lay back down, and he put his arms around me, and I felt like crying, as if my heart might break if he said anything at all. But he didn’t, and the next day, things were normal. We didn’t mention law school or love again.

On Valentine’s Day of my senior year, I finally went down to New York for the first time, and we did indeed walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. It was frigid and wet and icy, perhaps not quite as fabulous as the experience Nick had envisioned, as I was dying of hypothermia, but he insisted we stand in the middle of the bridge, ostensibly to see if we could spot Mob victims in the East River.

“There’s one,” Nick said. “Sal ‘Six Fingers’ Pietro. He never should’ve boffed Carmella Soprano during the christening.”

“Oh, I think I see one, too,” I said, pointing and hoping we could go to Nick’s soon and have some fabulous sex and then get a quesadilla grande from Benny’s. “Right there. Vito ‘The Pie’ Deluca swims with the fishes, or whatever passes for life in the East River. Can we go now?”

Nick didn’t answer. I looked around for him, but he wasn’t where he should be. No. He was on one knee, looking up at me with such dopey happiness that my heart nearly stopped. He had on fingerless gloves that day, like some Dickensian orphan, his hair blew in the wind and he held up a diamond ring.

“Marry me, Harper. God knows you’re not the girl of my dreams, but you’ll have to do.”

His eyes, though…they told the truth.

If I had been able to find a way to say no without breaking his heart, I would have. If he didn’t love me so damn much, I would’ve cuffed him and laughed it off. If I said no, that would be the end of it, I knew. And so I shrugged and said, “Okay. But I want a huge dress and eleven bridesmaids.”

I knew we were too young. I knew I wasn’t ready. I wanted to wait. Years, preferably. But once we were engaged, Nick put on a full-court press to marry quickly, and I lost the battle on that one.

Eleven months after his marriage proposal, and six months after our wedding, we both lost the war.

CHAPTER FIVE

“NICK! OH, MY WORD, you are a sight for sore eyes! Give me a hug this minute!”

Seconds after Dennis and I arrived at the lodge, Nick had pulled in behind me. I was still unfolding myself from the car as my stepmother descended in a blur of blond frizz and spandex. Descended on Nick, that is. Not me.

“BeverLee, you’re still as beautiful as ever,” Nick said, hugging my stepmother.

“Listen to you, you wide-eyed liar! Let me see you! Oh! Look at you! Handsome as the devil, bless your heart!” She clutched him again, then looked at me. “Harper, did you see Nick?”

“Yes, I did,” I answered, turning away as Nick shook my father’s hand.

“We met on the road in,” Nick said.

“That’s wonderful! Oh, you bring back such happy memories, Nick!”

“Or night sweats, depending on your point of view,” I muttered. Did my family not remember the pathetic puddle I’d been? Did everyone have to love Nick quite so much? “Dad. Can you give me a hand here? Dennis’s back is bothering him.” I turned to Nick. “Dennis ruptured a disc while rescuing three children from a house fire. Isn’t that right, hon?” Your Honor, if it please the court, my boyfriend is a genuine hero.

“All true,” Dennis said amiably.

“Way to go,” Nick said. He and Dennis bumped fists.

“It was a good day, dude.” Dennis grinned as happily as a black Lab.

“How was your trip?” Dad asked, taking a suitcase from the back of the car.

“Hellish. How was—”

“Harper! Harper! Oh, my God, Harper!”

My sister’s arms were around me before I even saw her. “Hey, there,” I said, smiling my first genuine smile in a week. I kissed her cheek twice, then pulled back. This may have been the longest time I’d gone without seeing my sister, and I had to say, she looked beautiful. “How’s the bride?”

“Oh, my God, I’m so happy! Oh, Nick! Hi!” She leaped on him, then on Dennis, hopfrogging around our little circle. “And Harper, you remember Christopher, right?”

I looked up the steps. “Hey, Harper,” said the groom.

Wow. Chris Lowery had been cute twelve years ago, but now he was gorgeous—Nick, Take Two, sort of. Both men resembled their father…Chris had the same dark eyes, though lacking that tragic element that made Nick so unfairly vulnerable. Chris had his mother’s reddish-brown hair, and he was a couple of inches taller than his older brother. He may have lacked Nick’s electric appeal—well, to me he did—but he was pretty damn attractive.

“My boy, you’ve become a man,” I said, then gave a little oof as he hugged me, lifting me off my feet.

“You’re still crazy beautiful, I see.”

“Everything you say can and will be held against you,” I said. “You will, of course, be explaining to me exactly how you plan to take care of my sister, because if you hurt or disappoint her in any way, I will, of course, kill you. Slowly, and with great pleasure.”

“Of course.” Christopher grinned and set me down.

“I’m completely serious.”

“And I’m genuinely terrified.” He winked and took my sister’s hand.

“Ain’t he just gorgeous?” BeverLee asked, fluffing her hair so it was a bit puffier. “Look at all these handsome men! Honest to goodness, no wonder we’re all such happy gals! It’s enough to make me all swoony! Come on, y’all, it’s past five, which means cocktail hour’s waitin’ on us.”

“Dennis and I need a little time to freshen up,” I said. “We’ve been traveling all day.”

“Sure enough,” BeverLee said. “We’ll meet y’all inside.” I started up the steps, but BeverLee jerked my arm back. She glanced at the rest of the mob, who was heading in, and then her smile dropped like an anvil. “Harper, darlin’, your daddy and me, we still aren’t acting as, you know, man and wife. If you know what I’m sayin’?”

“Um,” I managed queasily.

“What do you think I should do? I’m gettin’ desperate! I just don’t know what all has gotten into him. We sure have never—and when I say never, I mean it!—we have never in all our days together gone through a patch like this! The other night, I wore a see-through teddy, and still, nothin’! You think he needs the little blue pill?”

“Bev,” I blurted, “I really just don’t think I’m the best person to talk about this.” Plus, I needed to go wash the image of my stepmother in a teddy out of my squealing brain.

“Why not, honey?”

“Um, because I’m the daughter? And speculating on…you know…it’s a little uncomfortable, BeverLee.”

Her face fell.

“But you know, BeverLee, people go through…these times, of course. And uh…well, maybe if you look back on past experience, you could…” Okay. Clearly I had nothing to offer. And I wanted to keep it that way.

“No, it’s fine, you’re right.” She slapped on a smile, then checked her teeth in my sunglasses. “See you inside, sugar baby.”

The lodge was beautiful. Some kind of post-and-beam construction, but the posts were all rough-hewn trees. A stone fireplace was surrounded by rocking chairs and game tables, and the entire western wall overlooked Lake McDonald and the mountains past it. It was romantic, all right. I practically expected to see John Muir and Teddy Roosevelt smoking their cigars out on the patio.

“Dude, we’re on the third floor,” Dennis said, handing me a room key.

“Same floor as mine,” Nick added. “Dude.”

Super.

OUR ROOM CONTAINED two double beds. “It’s probably better for your back if you sleep by yourself,” I said hesitantly. Better for his back, and better for me. I didn’t want the temptation of Dennis right next to me, not when we still weren’t engaged. And, for whatever reason, not when Nick was sleeping down the hall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Two days, and this would be over, if Willa really went through with it at all.

“Roger-dodger,” Dennis said, flopping on the bed closest to the window. Coco jumped on his chest, then pressed her tiny nose to the window as if admiring the stunning view.

“Dennis, listen,” I said as I hefted a bag onto my bed. “I know things are a bit…undetermined with us in the case of our future and all that, but it’s a little weird seeing Nick again.”

“Sure,” he said amiably, setting my dog aside to check his phone.

“Would you mind sticking close?”

“No prob,” he said. He was quiet for a minute, then said, “So why’d you guys break up, anyway?”