Author: Kristan Higgins

“Me, too,” I say.

“Is it strange, being with someone who looks like your husband?” he asks.

“No,” I answer. “I mean, at first glance, sure, you do look like him. But don’t worry, I can tell the difference.” He was the real deal, you’re Jimmy-Lite.

“How did you meet him?”

I pause.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says instantly, covering my hand with his own. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” I answer, extricating my hand and taking a sip of water. “Ethan set us up.”

Matt pauses. “I guess things didn’t work out there,” he says delicately.

A razor-thin slice of pain cuts across my heart. “No, it didn’t work out.”

“Is he doing okay? After the accident and all?”

“He’s great,” I say smoothly, though I find I have to swallow twice. “What about you? Ever been married?”

Matt tells me about his brief marriage when he was twenty-six, ending in an amicable divorce when he was twenty-eight. Talk turns to business, inevitably. “Have you hired someone to take over the bread?” he asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “I put an ad out this morning, though. Craigslist, the newspaper.”

“Great,” he says. “We want to get cracking on this.”

I cover a yawn. “I should probably get back,” I tell him. “Four a.m. comes pretty early.”

Matt pays the bill and we drive home in the rain, not talking much.

I sneak peeks at his profile…he does look like Jimmy, though the initial shock has faded. He’s been awfully nice about the bread deal. I decide I feel fond of him. And hey, fond is underrated. Fond can last a lifetime. Fond doesn’t leave scars.

My heart twists a little…for a second, that lovely coating of numbness that’s been sheltering me these past few weeks lifts, and I miss Ethan so much I can barely breathe.

You can’t have everything. Ethan himself told me that. He was right. It will hurt him to have me move on with someone else, but I was hurting him when we were together, too. And I can’t be with Ethan. He deserves someone who can love him with her whole heart, and damn it all to hell, that’s not me. I had my heart broken once…no. Shattered. Destroyed. Ground into a bloody smear on the sidewalk, and it hurt so much I wondered that I didn’t die from it. I just can’t do that again.

Reminding myself to breathe again, I unclench my fists and stare ahead through the rain-smeared windshield.

Matt pulls up in front of the Boatworks. “Let me walk you to the door,” he says. I look at him. Matt here will take me or leave me. He didn’t know me before Jimmy died. He won’t know what he’s missing. He won’t want more.

“Sure,” I answer.

The rain blows in gusts, and we rush to the shelter of the doorway, the old Herreshoff providing a little shelter from the weather. I can’t wait to be upstairs, safe and alone.

“I had a really nice time,” Matt says.

“Oh, me, too,” I answer. It’s not that untrue. “Thanks for a lovely evening.”

He grins. “You’re welcome. I hope we can see each other again.”

I hesitate. Remind myself that a couple of months ago I had a plan for the rest of my life, and it didn’t seem like an illogical plan at all. Find a husband you don’t love too much. Have a baby. And maybe Ethan can get over me faster if I’m dating someone else. If he sees there’s really no possibility for us.

“I’d love to,” I answer, and without any further ado, he kisses me.

It’s fine—a gentle, rather respectful kiss. His lips are smooth and cool. Pleasant. Then he pulls me closer and kisses me more deeply, which is also fine, because now I know he’s attracted to me and not just being polite. It’s not the white-hot jolt I’m used to feeling with Ethan, or the heart-melting sweetness of Jimmy, but it’s not devoid of appeal. It occurs to me that boy, my brain sure is active during this kiss, and maybe I could muzzle my internal panel of CNN analysts and just enjoy. But by then, Matt’s done.

“I’ll call you,” he says again with a Jimmy-ish smile. “Are you free Friday?”

“Friday sounds good,” I answer automatically.

“Excellent,” he says, then turns, shields his eyes with one hand and dashes back into the rain to the car. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Bye,” I call, watching him pull away. Then I turn to go inside and nearly jump out of my skin.

Ethan is standing not twenty feet away, apparently on his way in from the parking lot. Even from here, I can feel the heat in his eyes. I swallow as he starts walking toward me, his movements somehow predatory. He stops a foot in front of me, ignoring the rain dripping off him. His eyes burn into mine, and my breath catches.

“You don’t kiss him the way you kiss me,” he says, his voice low.

My heart convulses in my throat. “I thought you were away,” I croak.

He ignores my comment. “You’re dating him, Lucy?”

I swallow. “Um…this was the first time. But yes.”

A muscle under Ethan’s eye twitches. “Why?”

“He’s…very nice.”

“He’s my brother’s goddamn twin.”

I bite my lip and don’t answer.

Ethan grips my shoulders hard, his jaw tight, his eyes almost black. “I can’t lose you to Jimmy again.”

My throat slams shut. “I…what?”

“Stop looking for Jimmy and see me,” he says. “See me, Lucy.”

“Ethan, I tried with you. I did, but I just can’t—”

“Yes, you can, damn it! Pick me this time, Lucy, and stop chasing Jimmy’s ghost.” He gives me a little shake.

My breath whooshes out of me. “I’m not chasing his ghost,” I say, tears burning in my eyes.

“I loved him, too. I miss him, too. But he wasn’t perfect, Lucy, and you need—”

“Well, he was perfect for me!” I exclaim, my voice cracking. “As you knew he would be, or you wouldn’t have fixed us up in the first place!”

Ethan lets go of my shoulders and looks at me, almost sadly. “Lucy,” he says quietly, “how many college sophomores go around fixing up their older brothers with pretty girls from school?”

My knees wobble dangerously, buzzing with adrenaline. I can only look at Ethan. If I could get a word out of my clamped-up throat, I’d tell him to stop.

“I didn’t think you’d be perfect for him, Lucy. I thought you were perfect for me.” Ethan pauses. “And he knew it.”

“Knew what?” My words are a harsh whisper.

“Knew that I was crazy about you. You were all I talked about. I told him I was bringing a girl home from school, someone special, and—”

“Stop it! Stop, Ethan!” My hands fly up to halt his words. “Jimmy wouldn’t do that! He wouldn’t…make a play for me if he knew you—”

“He did.”

“No.” Oh, God, I think I’m about to throw up that mediocre lasagna. The thunder rumbles again, louder this time, and the wind whips cold rain against my burning face.

“I love you, Lucy,” Ethan says quietly. “I always have.”

No, no, no. A thousand memories stab into my brain. The drive back to Providence after that first time at Gianni’s, how I thanked Ethan for introducing Jimmy and me…All those family dinners before Jimmy and I were married, Jimmy and me holding hands, Ethan alone on the other side of the table…The bachelor party when Ethan drove a drunken Jimmy to my house because my fiancé had felt a burning need to serenade me from the lawn at 3:00 a.m. Our wedding! Jesus, Ethan had been the best man…had danced with me at the reception and I never, never…And Jimmy had known?

“That just can’t be true,” I whisper, tears spilling over. “Jimmy loved you. He never would’ve hurt you, Ethan.”

“Lucy—”

“No, Ethan! I can’t just…just rethink everything because you…It’s not true. It can’t be. Jimmy wasn’t like that!” A harsh, hitching sob twists out of me. “Don’t taint my memories, Ethan. Don’t you dare. That’s all I have left.”

He looks away abruptly, and I stare at him, defiant tears snaking down my face amid the cold rain. His jaw is tight, his shoulders set. For a second, he closes his eyes, and when he looks back at me, his face is carefully blank.

“That’s all I have left,” I repeat loudly.

He looks at me another few beats, then bows his head. “You’d better get inside before you catch pneumonia.”

“Screw that,” I say harshly, startling myself. “I’m going for a walk.”

And with that, I storm off, across the street, into Ellington Park. I don’t look back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

EVERYTHING’S GONNA BE ALL RIGHT…Everything’s gonna be all right…Everything’s gonna be all right…

Just because Ethan said it, doesn’t mean it’s true, I tell myself as I careen along the gravel pathway. I’m already soaked, hardly noticing the puddles I slosh through. He’s upset that I’m moving on. And I have to move on. The image of him being tossed through the air, so damn…fragile…

My crappy lasagna surges up, and I barely make it off the path, throwing up violently into the bushes. Shaking, I stagger over to the nearest bench. Only then do I notice how close I am to the cemetery. A brief sheet of lightning illuminates the night, the asphalt road like a scar cutting between the granite headstones.

Somewhere in there is Jimmy’s grave. My husband’s grave. His body, that big, beautiful form I loved so much, lies in there. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and let the rain pellet my face. How many tears have I shed for Jimmy? Enough that I used to wake up with salt stains on my pillow. Enough that the skin under my eyes was raw for the better part of a year. Enough that my mother gave me her ultra-expensive eye cream because I looked older than she did.

I know Jimmy loved Ethan. He wouldn’t have made a move on me if he’d known. Ethan had a crush, maybe. That’s all. Jimmy never would’ve hurt him. I’d bet my life on it. He asked Ethan to be his best man, for God’s sake. A half-formed thought darts through my brain at that…there’s something there…but it’s gone, like a fish in a fast-flowing river. It doesn’t matter. Jimmy loved his little brother. Everyone could see that. He’d sling an arm around the shorter, younger Ethan and ruffle his hair. “Hey, Little E.,” he’d say, then kiss his brother’s head.

For the first time, it occurs to me that Ethan must’ve hated that nickname.

I’m so tired. For five and a half years, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep. Except one, now that I think of it. The night Ethan watched over me after I’d come home from the hospital.

Something hot and biting rises in my chest, and I shove it down. It’s too hard. Love is just too frigging hard. Love someone, and they have the power to ruin your life. Jimmy took everything that night, the whole lovely, safe, normal future we were going to have, the person I used to be. I can’t let stories from Ethan—or Doral-Anne, for that matter—erase the Jimmy I hold in my heart.

“Everything’s gonna be all right…everything’s gonna be all right. Everything’s gonna be all right. Everything’s gonna be all right.” Come on, St. Marley, help me, I think, my voice cracking as I sing. Can’t imagine that Iris and Rose would approve of me praying to a reggae singer for help, but hey, I never really figured out the rosary. A nearly hysterical laugh wrenches out of my throat. Singing in a thunderstorm outside the cemetery. Jimmy’s widow has finally chugged around the bend.