Author: Kristan Higgins

“Harper, chill,” she said calmly, scootching up to sit on the counter. “Look. I’d been in the city about a month, not finding any work, okay? Money was running out—”

“Right! Which is why I told you not to leave that stonemasonry program until you had a job! And I also offered to loan you—”

“You already did loan me,” she said. “That’s the thing. I wanted to make it on my own.”

“So you went to him? To Nick? To my ex-husband, Wills?” My mouth wobbled, but luckily, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman in a sweatshirt that showed a moose dancing over the word Montana.

“Occupied!” I barked, and she jerked back. But it gave me a much-needed second to get myself under control. I hadn’t cried in years. Wasn’t about to now.

“It was literally an accident,” Willa said. “I had an interview down in SoHo, which just sucked, by the way, they were so mean and it was for, like, a barista at a coffeehouse, you know, and they were grilling me on the growing conditions necessary for organic arabica and whatever. So I didn’t even get that job, I had eight dollars left in the bank, and I’m walking down this little bumpy street, the cobblestones are everywhere in SoHo, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve been there,” I said tightly.

“And I look up and see a sign. Camden & Lowery Architecture. I figured, what are the odds of that being Nick? I remembered him as so nice, you know?”

I gave her a lethal look, which she ignored. “So I went in and there he was, and he was so surprised and happy to see me, and I told him I was looking for work, and guess what?”

“What?”

“His secretary was going on maternity leave. So he hired me.”

My stomach was in a knot. “Willa—”

Once again, the door opened, and Dancing Moose Woman was back. “Still occupied,” I said. “My sister’s sick, okay?”

“Projectile vomiting,” Willa agreed. “Splat. Very disgusting.”

“Well, how long do you think you’ll be?” the woman asked with a frown.

“Long time,” Willa said sweetly. “But there’s another bathroom on the other side of the lobby. Oops, here it comes, more barf. You better go.”

“Feel better, honey,” the lady said, jerking back.

That did the trick. It also reminded me of why Willa got away with what she did. She…well, she was lovable. Good with people, sweet, funny. I could see why Nick would hire her…not just to mess with my head (though one couldn’t rule that out), but simply because Willa was awfully nice.

I cleared my throat. “Willa, did it ever occur to you that I’d like to know something like that?”

She sighed. “Sorry. It’s just…you and he were so long ago. And I really needed the job.”

“So how’d you meet Chris?” I asked.

“He came in on my first day. That’s why it was so…you know. Meant to be.” She reached out and took my hand. “I’m sorry. I was just a little desperate.”

“I would’ve helped you,” I said.

“I didn’t want to be helped.”

“Well, Nick helped you. Why was it okay to ask Nick and not me?”

“Because he actually needed something I could do,” she said gently. “And you never have.”

“What utter crap.” I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror and turned away abruptly.

“It’s not crap. It’s true, Harper. You never need anything from anyone.”

We didn’t say anything for a minute.

“Willard! You still in there? We’re doing a game, honey! Weddin’ night Mad Libs! Come on, sluggo! Is your sister in there with you?”

“We’re here, BeverLee,” I called. “We’ll be out in a sec.”

“Are we okay?” Willa asked me.

I nodded. “Sure.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret…I just wasn’t sure how to handle it.”

“Well, letting me find out at dinner…uncool.”

“Sorry.” She gave me a repentant little grin.

“Willa,” I said, “you know I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” she said, her smile growing.

“We haven’t been able to have a real conversation since you told me the big news. I just want to state for the record that I’m…I’m really worried that rushing into marriage is going to result in another disappointment for you.”

“And I appreciate your concern,” she said calmly.

“When you marry someone you barely know, it doesn’t usually end well. And divorce…sucks.”

“I know, Harper. I’ve been divorced twice as many times as you.”

“So why are you in such a hurry?”

“Why waste time? If you love someone, I think you should go for it. And I’m not getting divorced this time. I really love Christopher.” Her eyes took on a flinty look.

I tried to make my voice gentle. “You loved Raoul and Calvin, too.”

“Christopher doesn’t have a prison record, and he’s definitely not gay. I’m older and wiser now. Okay? Can’t you just be happy for us? I know it’s hard for you to have faith in the world, but I do. And you’re my maid of honor, so you have to stop being so doom and gloom, okay?”

“Willa…”

“And by the way, do you think you could be nice to Nick?”

I sighed. “I’ve been very civilized. We’re even having a drink later on.”

“Oh, that’s great! Thank you, Harper!” She clapped her hands and then hopped down from the counter, adjusted her cl**vage so it was higher and more pronounced—she was BeverLee’s daughter, after all. “You’ll see, Sissy. It’ll all work out.” Then she was gone, her face bright and happy despite our conversation.

What would it be like to be so relentlessly optimistic? I couldn’t remember ever having the same lighthearted faith that Willa felt. Not since I was about five, anyway.

I took a hard look at myself in the mirror, almost expecting to see some middle-aged harbinger of doom, Ebenezer Scrooge in drag. Instead, it was just me, the face deemed striking by just about everyone. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection. A few wisps of hair had escaped my clip and were curling, not unattractively, around my face.

My hair was probably my best feature, certainly the one that garnered the most attention. Rich auburn hair shot with coppery highlights from the sun, curling without frizzing, one-in-a-million, pre-Raphaelite hair of an angel which I straightened every day for work. I subdued it once more, secured the clip more tightly and made sure that not one curl escaped.

“Harper, baby doll? You comin’?” BeverLee opened the door. “Oh, sweetie, here. You need a little spray?” She fumbled in her huge vinyl purse for her industrial-sized can of Jhirmack. “Want me to puff you up?”

“I’m good, Bev. Thanks anyway.” With my stepmother chattering away, we went back to join the others.

An eternity later, dinner was over. Dad and BeverLee headed upstairs where, please God, they would have sex and thus relieve me of hearing about their marital woes. The rest of the gang drifted toward the bar. Dennis approached me. “Hey, I’m kinda whipped,” he said. “I’m gonna go upstairs and ice my back, take a few Motrin. We’re going horseback riding tomorrow, I don’t want to miss that.”

“Horseback riding?”

“That’s what they said.”

My stony heart sank a bit more. I was actually a little scared of horses. So dang big, you know? “Well. Do you need anything, Den? Want me to come up, get you settled?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Oh, hey, how you doing?”

I turned to look at the party he was addressing. Great. Some pretty woman giving him the eye.

“Harp, this is Bonnie, she’s a waitress here.”

“Hi, Dennis,” she sighed, practically melting on the spot.

I rolled my eyes. “Lovely to meet you.” I turned back to Dennis. “Feel better, snooky-bear,” I said. “I’ll be up in a little while.”

Dennis grinned. “’Night, Harp.”

“Er. Harp-er. You can say it. It’s only two syllables.”

To my surprise, he gave me a rather lovely kiss. “Good night, Harper,” he said. Then he winked at Bonnie and headed up the stairs. I turned around and bumped right into my ex-husband.

CHAPTER SIX

NICK SMILED. “WANT TO get that drink now, snooky-bear?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. “You bet, poopyhead.”

“You still like those sickening cosmos?”

“Sue me. I came of age during Sex and the City.”

“There are tables out there,” Nick said, indicating the patio. “Back in a flash.”

I went outside. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and the shadows hung long and blue over the lake, turning the water almost black. The wind had died down, and the flagstones held the moderate warmth of the day. I picked a table—the patio was mostly deserted—wrapped my pashmina a little more tightly around me and stared off at the mountains.

It was so beautiful here, so remote. The quiet was like a palpable force, and I felt my soul unfurl a little. Surely Martha’s Vineyard was one of the loveliest places on earth, but it wasn’t like this—majestic, endless and harsh, a place where you could be killed by nature in a hundred different ways at any given moment. For some reason, the thought was oddly soothing. Out here, you were just part of a bigger plan, one you didn’t get to control. Be eaten by a grizzly, have a glacier fall on your head, drown in an icy river—it wasn’t up to you.

“Makes you feel a little…irrelevant, doesn’t it?” Nick asked, indicating the view as he set down my pink drink. “In a nice way.”

“Speak for yourself,” I said, a little disturbed that he’d just about read my mind.

“So you found out Willa’s working for me.” He took a sip of his beer.

“Yes, I did.”

“She asked me not to tell you.”

“And when would you tell me? During our weekly chats? Don’t worry, I’m not mad.”

“Sure you are.” He flashed his lightning smile.

I looked away. “So Jason’s here, huh? I didn’t picture that.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“How about your father and Lila? Coming in tomorrow?”

Nick’s dark gaze dropped to the table. “No. Dad’s got early onset dementia. He’s pretty out of it.” He began folding the corners of his cocktail napkin.

“Oh, Nick. I’m sorry to hear it.” Without thinking, I reached over and put my hand over his.

“Thanks.” He didn’t look up.

“What about Lila? I can’t imagine she’d want to miss her son’s wedding.”

“Actually, she planned a cruise a while back and didn’t want to cancel.”

That summed up the memory I had of her pretty well. I didn’t know the woman, but I always had the impression there wasn’t a lot to discover.

“So does your dad live near you?”

Nick nodded. “I got him into this pretty nice assisted-living place on the East Side. I can check on him that way.”

“That’s…that’s good.”

I’d met Ted only three times. He was a consultant to large corporations and Republican politicians, though what exactly he consulted on was never fully explained. Very successful, very smug, very oily. After rescheduling four times, he took Nick and me out to dinner when we were engaged. “Harper, call me Ted. You are stunning! I can see my son inherited his old man’s taste in women.” (I know. Nasty.) The next time I saw him was at our wedding, where I was too busy panicking to pay him much attention. The last time was at a Labor Day picnic at his sprawling, soulless McMansion in Westchester County, where Ted invited me to come riding with him sometime. Apparently he was once an alternate on the Olympic equestrian team and said he could tell I had a beautiful seat. (And again…nasty.)