Author: Kristan Higgins

“There’s one stop I want to make before I take you to the airport,” Nick said. “Do you mind?”

“No,” I said instantly. “Nope. That’s fine.”

Time, which had seemed so sluggish the past few days, suddenly sped up. Nick and I chatted carefully—nothing deeper than the weather forecast—and listened to NPR. As we neared the capital city, the trees and buildings grew denser, and Coco perked up as if realizing we were reaching a destination. Bismarck was a new city—well, compared with the East Coast, that is. The trees were turning here, and many of the houses were from the Arts and Craft period, or solid old Victorians. Lots of yards, lots of gardens. It was quite lovely…and quite flat. Shocking, really, how far you could see out here.

The Mustang’s top was down, and sky gleamed pure blue. I wore Nick’s Yankees hat, but the breeze managed to free some locks of hair anyway. I guessed it didn’t matter. We passed restaurants and shops, and the city turned into blocks. Finally, we came to a college— Whalen University. Nick slowed, then turned into the entrance. The manicured campus grounds sprawled in front of us, green and lush, dotted with shade trees and college students lounging on the grass. Nick knew where he was going; he turned right, then left and finally came up in front of a building. The Hettig Library & Media Center, the sign announced.

“Need something to read?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, just got out of the car. I followed, Coco trotting at my side, her pink patent leather leash catching the sunlight.

The library was made of brick and glass, very clean and open, with graceful lines and an arched glass roof. How nice it must be to study in there, I thought, the endless Midwestern sky above you as you pored over books or computer screens. There was a slate courtyard with a very modern-looking fountain, all angles and corners, the smooth fall of water splashing down in a wonderful rush of noise. At one end of the building, there was a four- or five-story tower that nicely echoed the more traditional, older architecture of the rest of the campus. I caught up to Nick, who was staring up at the tower, squinting in the sun.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said in that immediate way he had. He turned to face me. “I just wanted you to…” He paused. “To see something of mine.”

My heart swelled. I never had seen one of Nick’s buildings…not that I knew of, anyway. “Well, then. Show me around.”

For the next hour, we walked around the building, inside and out, and for the first time, I saw him in full architect mode, talking about light and angles, expansion and symmetry, commonality and conservation. His voice was New York fast, his lovely hands pointing and framing, and he smiled as he spoke, his eyes bright. When a librarian came over to kick Coco out, Nick introduced himself, pulling her name from his memory banks—apparently they’d met five years ago when the building was actually being constructed—and Coco was allowed to stay. Kids looked at him, recognizing that this was a guy who knew something; one even approached him and asked if he was the architect of the library, and the two of them talked for a few minutes about master’s programs. In the end, Nick gave him his business card and told him to drop him a line if he wanted a summer internship.

It was something, to stand in a building that Nick—my Nick—had dreamed up and made real.

“Is this one of your favorite buildings?” I asked as we headed back into the sunshine and scudding clouds.

“Well, in some ways, yes,” he said. “Mostly because it’s a library. What happens here is generally positive, you’d hope, anyway. Better than a parking garage.”

“I’m glad you showed me, Nick,” I said as we stopped near the fountain. “It’s beautiful. I’m…I’m proud of you.” My cheeks prickled with heat. Great. I was blushing.

Nick looked at me somberly for a minute. “Thank you.” Then he flashed his smile, and I smiled back, relieved that he didn’t tell me what a dork I was.

But we couldn’t stay here forever. I glanced at my watch, and Nick lurched back into gear. “Guess you want to get to the airport,” he said.

“I probably should.”

“Right.”

It was a very quick ride to the Bismarck Airport. Nick pulled up in front of the terminal, popped the trunk and towed my suitcase inside. We waited at the counter, a little awkward now, smiling at each other, then looking away.

“So you’re looking to get to Boston?” the ticket agent asked. Her name tag read Suzie, and she gave Nick an assessing glance. He was wearing the blue-tinted sunglasses, a close-fitting black T-shirt and faded jeans—the king of cool, in other words, and Suzie smiled brightly. “Just you, ma’am?”

“That’s right. As soon as possible, okay? I got tangled up in that mess in Montana.”

She dragged her eyes off of Nick. “What mess was that?”

“The software glitch? Grounded the fleet for a few days at all the little airports in Montana on Sunday?”

She frowned. “Oh, that. That only lasted a couple hours, hon. You’d have done better to stay put. They were flying later that same day.”

I blinked. “Oh.” Glanced at Nick, who shrugged.

“All righty, then,” Suzie said. “Well, it’s a little tricky, since you’ll have to change planes a few times. You’ll go from here to Denver, and from Denver you can go directly to Boston, but you’re gonna have to wait five hours. Or you can go on to Dallas, and from Dallas to Atlanta. Quick layover in Hot-lanta, and then on to Beantown. That’ll get you to Boston at, let’s see, 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.”

Twenty hours of hell, in other words. I glanced at Coco, who stared back.

“Are you staying in Bismarck?” Suzie asked Nick. “We have some super-duper restaurants, if you need a recommendation or two. I get off at—”

“And how much will that be?” I asked, just a bit tightly.

“Okeydokey, let me just check there…” She typed for the next minute or so. Clickety clackety clack. Click. Clack! Clickety click. I sighed, she paused, gave me a look of thinly veiled tolerance, flashed a supersunny smile at Nick, who returned it, I noted with irritation. “Suzie? Any time would be great,” I said sweetly.

“Well, now, I’m working on it, don’tcha know. I’m sorry if it’s not going fast enough for you, ma’am,” she said with an equal dose of saccharine. She gave Nick a sympathetic smile. Gosh golly, isn’t it just so awful that we both have to deal with her? Clickety clickety clack. For God’s sake! Was this her novel? Emails to her BFF? Hey there, Lorna, you should see this bitchy redhead I have to take care of, she’s not even letting me flirt with my future husband, which is so unfair, don’t you know, when I’ve gone to all this trouble and named our kids and everything!

Finally, she gave me a perky and very phony smile. “Well, with the fee for your little doggy and yourself, that comes to $2,835.49.”

“Holy testicle Tuesday!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, my,” Suzie chided. “Well, it takes all types, I guess. Shall I book that for you, then? We accept all major credit cards, of course.”

I gave her my best lawyer stare, then opened my wallet.

“Harper,” Nick said. He took my arm and pulled me a few paces away. “Listen. I’m heading…I can take you to Minneapolis. It’s a straight shot, maybe seven hours.” He paused. “I bet you could get a better flight from there.”

The possibilities flashed in red through my mind. Seven more hours with Nick. Seven more hours revisiting the past. Bickering. Fighting attraction. Bone-marrow harvesting.

Laughing. Talking. Maybe we could find another church festival.

Seven more hours of falling back in love with Nick.

It had taken me years to get over him. Years. The case could be made that I wasn’t over him yet.

His dark eyes were waiting for an answer.

“I better just get going, Nick,” I said.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “Okay. Sure. That’s probably a good idea.” He folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

“I just need a driver’s license, ma’am,” Suzie said. She was really starting to wear.

“You don’t need to hang around, Nick,” I said.

He looked up. “Okay. Well. Safe home, Harpy. See you around.”

“You too, Nick.” My throat hurt. “Thank you for driving me.”

He gave me a very brief hug, and my cheek brushed his neck, and I breathed in his clean, lovely smell, but before I was even able to get my arms around him to hug him back, he’d stepped away, then bent to pet my dog. “Bye, Coco,” he said as she licked his hand with her fast little tongue. He straightened up, looked at me and stopped time. “Take care,” he said, his voice soft.

“You too, Nick.”

I watched him walk away, and it seemed as if a chunk of my heart went with him. Coco whined.

“Didja want that dinner recommendation, then?” Suzie called after him, frowning fiercely. Nick didn’t answer, and in another second, he was gone. Suzie huffed. “Okeydokey, then,” she muttered. “Can I have a credit card and your license, ma’am?”

“Sure.” I opened my wallet.

The little blue Montana flower Nick had picked for me fell out, flat and creased after two days. Still pretty, though. I picked it up and stroked a petal.

“Your flight to Denver leaves in forty minutes, ma’am,” Suzie informed me tightly. “And as you might know, they like you to get there a little early.”

I ignored her. Looked back toward the entrance of the airport, and before I knew I’d made a choice, was towing my suitcase behind me, Coco leaping along beside me.

“Oh, that’s just great,” I heard Suzie say. “A complete waste of my time.”

The sun was so bright outside that for a moment, I couldn’t see. But then I could, and there he was, leaning against the red Mustang, hands in his pockets, looking at the ground. He looked up, saw me, froze for a second…and then his lightning smile flashed, and I realized I was smiling, too. Coco barked and jumped.

“Land of Ten Thousand Lakes, here we come,” I said, and Nick’s laugh made my heart swell in a painful, wonderful way.

Maybe I needed closure. Maybe I needed something else. Whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BUT OF COURSE, IT wasn’t quite that straightforward.

“Okay, there’s one thing I didn’t mention,” Nick said as we headed away from the airport.

“What’s that?” I asked, pulling the Yankees cap back on.

He took a deep breath and held it for a second. “You know the library I just showed you?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I have a meeting with the dean of the college. They’re thinking about a new engineering building, and they wanted to talk.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not a big deal. Just an hour. Maybe two.”

“Right. Okay. Sure. Maybe we can find a Laundromat or something? I didn’t plan on being away this long.”

“Sure, sure.” He glanced over at me.

“What time’s the meeting?”

“Two. I had to reschedule it from yesterday, after you ran over the antelope.”

So. A meeting that just happened to be in Bismarck, North Dakota. I should’ve remembered. As carefree and meandering as he may have wanted to seem on our little jaunt from Glacier, Nick rarely did anything without a plan.

An hour and a half later, I sat in the BubbleNSqueak, watching my laundry through the porthole of a washing machine. For some reason, I was feeling vaguely…tricked. Not that Nick had owed me any explanation; he’d done me a huge favor by driving me here. But still.