Author: Kristan Higgins

Coco nosed my hand, reminding me that it was late, and she didn’t like sleeping without me. She was right. There was nothing to be done tonight. With a sigh, I washed up, then went into the guest bedroom, earning a confused look from my dog as to why we weren’t sleeping with young Dennis.

For a long time, I stared at the ceiling, wondering what to do and how to do it. Finally, with a sigh, I rolled onto my stomach and pulled the pillow over my head. Time to sleep. Surely, morning would be better.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MORNING WAS NOT BETTER.

I rolled out of bed early, sunlight streaming through the windows, let Coco out and started some coffee. Dennis was still sleeping and would be for some time, judging from the number of beers he’d had last night. I cringed at the thought of our upcoming talk, guilt choking me like a forty-foot python. It was 6:45 a.m.; Dennis probably would sleep for another couple of hours. Call me a coward, but I wasn’t going to burst in there and wake him with the news that I didn’t want to get married after all.

Time to make muffins. Dennis loved muffins, and muffins he would get. If I was going to dump him, at least he could have muffins. I got out a seldom-used cookbook—The Big Book of Texas Cookin’, a gift from BeverLee, of course, containing recipes for quantities of food that would feed entire football teams and should thus hold Dennis for at least round one of breakfast—and got to work. I never baked. My mom and I used to bake a lot—cookies, mostly, which we’d eat watching some age-inappropriate movie. Bev liked cooking better—the best present I ever got her was a Fry Daddy, last Christmas. She’d been so happy, you’d have thought it was a month’s vacation in the Greek isles. Then again, Bev had always been easy to please.

When the muffins were baking, I checked my newly charged phone. Yep, nine messages from Kim, trying to warn me about the surprise at the airport. One from Willa, saying only that she’d hoped to catch me. None from BeverLee, though I’d left a message for her while waiting at Logan yesterday. And none from Nick.

I’d have given an awful lot to have heard his voice right about now, and the realization caused an odd stabbing in my chest. Maybe all the heart-strangling food I’d eaten in the past week was catching up with me and my arteries were choked with Swiss cheese. Or maybe I was afraid Nick had already given up on me. That seemed more likely (and also more horrible) than the heart attack theory.

Maybe, though, Nick had sent me an email. I had, after all, left all my contact info, email, work, etc., on his counter in New York, as a sign that I did indeed want us to have further communication. I jumped over to my laptop and waited, my fingers drumming, for it to start.

Nope. As the emails appeared on the list, I saw there was nothing from Nick. The disappointment was a little shocking. As I turned away from the screen, though, something caught my eye.

Huh. It was a message from my credit card company about a recent purchase. United Airlines, $529. Yesterday.

That…that didn’t seem to bode very well.

Before the thought was fully formulated, a car pulled into the driveway. I looked out the window with dread…yep. There was Willa, getting out of a cab, eyes swollen and red, blond hair matted and dull.

No sign of Chris.

“Willa!” I exclaimed, lurching into action and running out the door. My sister flung herself into my arms.

“Harper, I’m such an ass,” she wept. “You were right! I never should’ve gotten married in the first place!”

Forty-five minutes later, my sister was showered, dressed in a pair of my shorts and a Sharky’s T-shirt, an untouched cup of coffee at her elbow.

“You want something to eat?” I offered. “Muffin? Toast? Eggs? Ben & Jerry’s?”

“No. I couldn’t eat.” Her face was wan.

“So what happened, honey?” I asked, gnawing on my beleaguered cuticle before putting my hand in my lap.

“Well,” she said, forcing a smile, “I should’ve listened to you. I’m going to tattoo that on my forehead. ‘Listen to Harper, because you’re an idiot.’ Maybe then, I’ll learn.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I said. “But obviously something happened.” I paused. “Did he…fall off the wagon?”

She gave me a glance. “You found out about that, huh?”

I winced, then nodded.

“No. He’s still sober. At least, he was when I left.” She welled up again, picked up her cup, then set it down without drinking.

“So what was it, then, Wills?” I asked.

She looked at me, mouth wobbling. “Harper…he wants us to live in Montana, and he thinks I should find a job so I can support him while he, in his words, ‘focuses’ on his inventions and gets the Thumbie going.”

I bit my lip. Honestly, the Thumbie was perhaps the dumbest name for a product I’d ever heard in my life.

“I mean, seriously,” Willa continued, wiping her eyes with a napkin. “What am I supposed to do out there? Wait tables? Become a cowboy? So he can stay home and play with his parts? I want to have a baby, not go back to work.”

“Um…You’ve only been married a week, Willa,” I pointed out.

“I know, Harper,” she said tightly. “Look, please don’t lecture me right now. You were right. Christopher isn’t good enough for me—”

“I’m quite sure those words never actually came out of my mouth.”

“Whatever. You told me not to marry him, and I didn’t listen.”

I chewed on my lip. “So where’s Chris right now?”

“Montana, I guess. That’s where I left him.” Tears spilled out of her pretty blue eyes. “Harper, I don’t know what went wrong. Everything was so great before…then it just went to hell in a handbasket! I mean, our honeymoon sucked, can I just say that? Mosquitoes like something out of Jurassic Park during the day, freezing cold at night. And Chris can’t cook to save his life—”

“Well, you’re a pretty good cook, Willa,” I said.

“Not over a fire! I’m not a cavewoman, okay?” She sighed, wiped her eyes and gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Harper. You’re the only one who understands. I leaped without looking, as I always do. I’m an idiot, and I know it.”

“You’re not an idiot,” I repeated, patting her hand.

“Can we not talk about this right now? I’m sorry. I just…I’m exhausted. Can I crash here for a little while? I can’t face Mama and Daddy right now. Mama’s gonna be heartbroken.”

I wondered if Willa knew about the current situation with Dad and BeverLee. It didn’t seem that way. “Sure,” I said. “Um, listen, Dennis is here, and we’re going to need a little, um, privacy later on.” Great. That sounded as if Den and I had a booty call planned. “We have to…talk.”

Wills gave a weary nod. “Do you mind if I take a nap, Harper? I’m so tired.”

“Sure, sure! Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”

Willa rose from the table. “Thanks for your credit card, by the way. That was a lifesaver.”

Five minutes later, my sister was in bed in the guest room, Coco and her bunny snuggled against Willa’s back. “Call if you need anything,” I said, pulling the shades.

“Will do,” she replied, her eyes already closed.

I went back in the kitchen and sat down again. Picked up a muffin and began dissecting it with the butter knife. A new thought was forming in my brain, slowly but with great conviction. Willa was…crap. She was spoiled. She was sweet, optimistic, energetic, friendly…and spoiled.

And I was the one who spoiled her. She’d rushed into three marriages; I’d gotten her out of two (and counting). I’d loaned her thousands of dollars, none of which had been repaid, none of which I’d asked or expected her to repay. I’d ponied up for school…that had lasted three weeks. The paralegal course had endured a bit longer—four. When she convinced me that a stonemasonry apprenticeship was her lifelong dream, I’d paid for that, too, and for her living expenses while she spent two weeks figuring out that it wasn’t what she really wanted after all.

In the past, I’d always jumped at the chance to look out for Willa, to guide and offer and protect. But maybe…maybe what she needed now was to sink or swim on her own. How could I have not realized that before now? Bailing her out all the time might have made me feel protective and noble, but maybe…ouch…maybe it was also a little selfish of me. After all, I couldn’t be the big sister anymore if Willa actually had to grow up.

Another car pulled into my driveway, a rental. Oh, God! It was Dennis’s parents, both dressed in white shorts and pink polo shirts, like senior citizen twins. What were they doing here? It was barely nine o’clock, their son wasn’t even awake yet…and I hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him yet, as I’d been procrastinating and all. Stifling the urge to hide under the table, I got up and opened the door.

“Hi!” I said. “How are you? Did we have, um…plans?”

“Oh, are those muffins?” Jack asked, kissing my cheek and squeezing past me into the kitchen. “Blueberry, I hope?”

“Yes, they are. Listen, Den’s not even up yet.”

“Good morning, Harper, honey!” Sarah sang, following her husband into the house. “We wanted to help clean up after the party, but look at this place, it’s immaculate! Oh, you’ll be so good for Dennis, God knows the boy’s a slob. But if he didn’t change his ways even with all my nagging, I hope he will with yours!” She chortled merrily and gave me a big hug. “And looky what I have here!” She held up her large straw purse and withdrew several tomes. “Wedding magazines!”

Oh, God, kill me now. “You know, this might not be the best time…um, see, Dennis had a few too many beers last night, and he’s still sleeping. And, and my sister just got in, and she’s sleeping, too.”

“Sure, we’ll be quiet,” Sarah said at a slightly reduced volume. She plunked herself down next to Jack, who had already finished one muffin and was busy slathering another with butter. “I guess the first thing we need to decide is when,” Sarah continued. “I’m thinking June, of course, but you know how I love a spring wedding! Blacktie, too. Can’t you just see Dennis in a tux, Harper? Not to toot our horn here, but Jack and I made some beautiful children! Harper, honey, don’t bite your nails. Where’s your ring, sweetheart?”

I dropped my hand. “Oh…uh…right there. On the windowsill. I was washing dishes…”

“Put it on, put it on,” Jack urged brightly. “It’s gorgeous!”

I obeyed, wondering if they knew I’d bought it for myself. If they knew I’d said the words “Shit or get off the pot” as I asked their son to spend the rest of his life with me.

“So I thought we’d all have lunch at the hotel later on,” Sarah said. “Bonnie, Kevin, the kids, then maybe a family hike, how’s that sound?”

“Um…you know what?” I said. “I’m so sorry…I…I’m just gonna dash into the shower, if that’s okay. My sister just got back, and I didn’t have time—”

“I can’t wait to hear about that wedding!” Sarah said. “Jack, wouldn’t a destination wedding be so much fun? Well, you go shower, honey. Take your time! Hopefully that lazybones son of ours will wake up and we can get down to business.”

I fled the kitchen, practically staggering under the weight of all that enthusiasm…and the dread of how they’d feel later today. I’m so sorry, I thought. I’m really, really sorry.

My head felt like a fighter jet in a tail spin toward destruction. In one room, I had a sleeping nonfiancé. In another, an exhausted and weepy sister. In the third, the two most cheerful people alive. The warm water of the shower calmed me down—a little, anyway. Was I hiding? Absolutely. But just for the moment. It was going to be a busy morning, and I just needed to get my head on straight. First things first: get rid of the Costellos. Next, get rid of Willa, just for a while, anyway. And finally, talk to Dennis ASAP.