Author: Kristan Higgins

Taking a deep breath, I typed a quick reply to Bev—I should be home tonight, Bev. Call you later, okay? Then I clicked open my browser and went to the Expedia website. Booked a flight on the five o’clock shuttle to Boston, then a seat on the puddle jumper that would take me to the island. Emailed the office. Packed up my clothes, noting distantly that my hands were shaking. Looked for Coco’s bunny rabbit, which she enjoyed hiding so I could fetch it. She trotted beside me, amused that I couldn’t just sniff the air and find the ratty old thing.

There it was, under the sleek couch in the living room. Coco barked twice, congratulating me. “Found it,” I confirmed, groping for it. Just then, my cell phone rang, then chirped to indicate the low battery. Right. I still hadn’t found my charger; may have left it at one of our stops across country. I handed Coco her beloved and then ran to answer the phone. The screen read Dennis, and an unexpected wave of guilt washed over me. “Hi, Den! Everything okay?”

“Hey, Harp! How are you?”

Beep. “Um, I’m doing fine,” I answered. “Hey, my battery’s low. What’s up?”

“Everything’s fine. Um, I was just wondering if you knew when you were coming home. You’ve been gone kind of a long time, that’s all.”

This was…new. Dennis generally wasn’t the type to call and check on anything; he’d always left that to me. “Well, actually, I just booked a flight for later today.”

“Oh, great! I’ll pick you up!”

Beep. “No, no, that’s okay, Dennis. You don’t have to. I’ll just grab a cab. It’s only ten miles.”

“No, dude, it’s totally okay! You’ll need a ride, right? What time?”

“Um…seven-thirty? But Dennis, please don’t—” Beep.

“Cool! See you then.” With that, my battery gave up the ghost. With a growl of frustration, I picked up Nick’s phone and called Dennis back. I really didn’t want to see Dennis first thing upon landing; life was enough of a snarl. And it wasn’t like him to be so…helpful. Maybe he felt some guilt of his own for not accepting my proposal. Whatever. My call went straight to voice mail…typical. “Dennis here, leave a message!”

“Hi, Den,” I said. “Listen, that’s really nice of you, but I’ll take a cab home, okay? Thanks anyway. Talk to you soon.” I hung up and sighed, then looked down at my little brown-and-white buddy. “You want to go home, Coco?” She cocked her head and froze with anticipation, as if the word home was almost too good to bear. “I know just how you feel.”

When Nick got home, it was almost four. I was staring unseeing at a copy of the New Yorker, and at the sound of his key, I lurched to my feet, nervous as hell. “Hey! How was your meeting?” I called brightly. “Everything go well?”

He didn’t answer, unfooled by my chipper tone. Instead, he dropped his gaze to my suitcase, parked there by the front door, and folded his arm across his chest. “I probably shouldn’t be surprised,” he said tightly.

“Uh, well, I need to—”

“You’re leaving me.” His voice was flat.

“Nick, don’t jump to conclusions. But yes, I have to get back. I have a lot going on.” Nick cocked an eyebrow, and my temper stirred. “It’s actually true, Nick. I do have a life separate from you.”

As if saying her own form of goodbye, Coco began leaping straight off the floor as if spring-loaded. She launched herself into Nick’s arms, and he grabbed her a bit awkwardly, unused to her forms of devotion. My dog licked his chin, unaware that the grown-ups were about to have a serious talk.

“So,” Nick said, putting Coco back on the floor. He took a deep breath, and I could tell he was trying to keep calm. “What about you and me?”

I nodded. Sat down on the couch. Crossed my ankles. “Well,” I whispered, “I think it’s a little soon for us to talk about the New York bar.”

“Right.” His gaze dropped to the floor.

The silence seemed to stretch, pushing us apart bit by bit. “Maybe you could come out to the Vineyard sometime,” I suggested, biting a cuticle. “Um…next weekend. If your schedule’s clear.”

He just looked at me for a long moment with those tragic eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Nick,” I blurted. “I just…I just don’t know how this is going to work. I don’t want to make the same mistakes again.”

In a second, he was on his knees in front of me, gripping my upper arms. “Harper, I love you.”

God, those eyes, those damn gypsy eyes. “I know. And I…I love you back, Nick, you know that. But how does that translate? I mean, everyone loves everyone, right? But so many relationships don’t work out. We didn’t, Nick, loving each other or not.”

“And she’s off,” Nick muttered, letting go of my arms.

“I’m not off,” I protested, biting my poor cuticle yet again. “I’m just being realistic. I can’t drop everything I’ve got back home just because we still have feelings for each other.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’d think that those feelings would matter, Harper. They do to me.”

“They definitely matter,” I said in a small voice. “They’re just not…they’re just not the only things that do.”

He ran his hand through his hair, then rose from the floor and sat next to me. We didn’t say anything for a minute. “Look,” he said in a gentler voice. “I love you. I want us to work. Last time, you had one foot out the door the whole time we were together. I can’t take that again, Harper. You have to decide if you want this or not, and judging from the suitcase by the door, you don’t.”

I swallowed. “Nick,” I whispered, “I think we need time to…think.”

“I don’t need to think, Harper. I know. But you…” His voice rose. “I’m in this, I want us to be together, but you…your bags are already packed. You’re leaving. Again.”

“I’m not, Nick!” I barked. “I have to deal with things at home, okay? I have a life there, and…I can’t just not go back. You’re traveling all over the planet, anyway, and I won’t throw caution to the wind and make all the same mistakes we made last time and end up miserable again. I won’t do that, Nick.”

There it was again, that look. I’d let him down, even though everything I said made perfect sense.

From the street below, a car horn honked. “There’s my cab,” I said.

“That was fast,” Nick muttered.

“I didn’t think your lunch would last for four hours, either,” I snapped. “Okay?”

Déjà vu all over again. When had I ever gotten an inch from Nick, after all? Never, that’s when.

Nick walked to the door and picked up my suitcase and laptop carrier, his movements sharp and angry. He stood back to let Coco and me go through the door and down the stairs. The ripe smell of the city greeted us out on the street, the roar and the humidity.

“I’ll see you soon,” I said briskly, turning to Nick.

He nodded.

Then, without another word, we were in each other’s arms, and I was hugging him as hard as I could, my face pressed against his beautiful neck, and he held me so close that for a second, it seemed as if he would never let me go, that he’d say something that would make everything okay.

But he didn’t say anything, and he did let me go.

SO THAT WAS FUN. MY brain decided to play Debate Team again for the entire bleeping plane ride to Boston.

Leaving was the right thing to do.

Are you insane? How could it be the right thing?

Please. Let’s not get hysterical here. It’s not as though Nick and I are done, we’re just—

Oh, God, go back, what are you thinking, that man is the love of your stupid life!

As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, we’re just figuring things out. I have other responsibilities, don’t forget.

Didn’t you see the look in his eyes? You did it again. You left him.

Finally, I grabbed my laptop case. There was the yellow envelope that contained my mother’s information. Fat lot of good that did me, huh? So much for closure—more like a reopening of the jugular. What would I have done without Nick that day? (See, idiot? Can we turn this plane around?) Veering away from the tarry emotions that paved the path of maternal memories, I flipped open my laptop and looked at my calendar. Court on Tuesday, Schultz v. Schultz, Judge Keller. Easy peasy…a couple who’d parted ways without so much as a whimper. So civilized. Lunch with Father Bruce. Kim and I were supposed to have a night out on Thursday. That would be great…I could use a little girlfriend time.

What about Nick? When will you see Nick again?

I have no clue, I answered. I will call him tomorrow. Or even tonight. So can you please leave me alone?

We landed in Boston, and I got the resentful Coco from steerage. “I’m sorry. You deserve much better,” I told her as I lugged her crate, my suitcase, laptop carrier and purse to the Cape Air gate. She ignored me, and who could blame her? “It wasn’t much better where I was,” I assured her. “One quick hop, and we’re home again. Bear with me.”

A short while later, we were flying over the Atlantic. No sooner had we taken off than the plane seemed to begin its descent to Martha’s Vineyard. A lump came to my throat at the sight of the island. There were the cliffs of Gay Head in variegated streaks of brown and white, the scrubby green bayberry and beach plum gentling the ragged shore. Waves broke against the beach, and I could see gulls flying and fluttering as they dropped shellfish onto the rocks. Just around the curve of Aquinnah was Menemsha, Dutcher’s Dock and home.

Our plane landed without fanfare, and as I got off, I sucked in a deep breath of the salty, pine-scented air. It seemed as if I’d been gone for a year, not just a week. The sun beat down hot on my hair, and the wind blew strands into my eyes. A mockingbird sang from on top of the gray-shingled terminal.

This was where I belonged. Fourth-generation Islander, granddaughter of a fisherman.

I sprang Coco, clipped on her leash and managed to wrestle my luggage out the door. Coco paused, never a fan of automatic doors. “Coco, come on, honey, don’t get Chihuahua on me—oh, my God.”

Oh, my God indeed. Oh, crotch, in fact.

Because there, in front of the terminal, was a Martha’s Vineyard fire truck, eight firemen, a small crowd of regular people and quite a few kids.

And Dennis Patrick Costello, on bended knee.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“DENNIS,” I BREATHED. “Holy testicle Tuesday.”

The horror of the situation splayed out in front of me. After two and a half noncommittal years together, one dodged marriage proposal and a breakup, Dennis was about to pop the question.

My eyes, which felt stretched way too wide, took in the scene. Jeez Louise. Were those Dennis’s—yep. His parents. His nice parents, Sarah and Jack. His two sisters, their spouses, too. Various and sundry children, aka Den’s nieces and nephews…all present. There was his brother, who owned the apartment where Den lived. My father, who gave me a somber nod. The guys from Platoon C—including Chuck, who hated me, as well as Fire Chief Rogers—all present.

“Hey,” Dennis grinned. He was holding something. Two things, in fact. A piece of wire, was it? And a small black velvet box. Which he now opened, revealing the ring I’d bought for myself four weeks ago.

Crotch. Crotchety crotch crotch. This was bad. Plagues of Egypt bad.

Coco, seeing her buddy, bolted forward, and as I appeared to be in a state of paralysis, the leash slipped from my limp fingers.

“Hi, Coco! How are you, cutie? Did you miss me?” Dennis, still on one knee, allowed himself to be licked by my bouncing little dog, then passed the leash to one of the nieces.