On Second Thought

by Kristan Higgins

  "I don't seem to be," she said. I offered her my hand and pulled her up, then did the same to Candy. For a second, I thought we might hug, but then the moment was gone.

  We were still us, after all.

  Us, but a little better.

  *

  On Sunday, I decided to look at some classes at the local colleges. I took my laptop out onto the patio--the heat had relented, and it was about as perfect a summer day as could be. Plus, who knew how much longer I'd be living here? I had to enjoy the koi pond while I had one.

  I scanned the class selection. I'd fallen into my job at NBC. I didn't mind working at Hudson Lifestyle, now that I was actually making an effort (and shagging the boss). But I didn't love it (the work, that was). It was a job, not a career.

  For Jonathan, it was different. In the past month, I'd learned that his grandmother had started the magazine in 1931 at a time when no one thought a woman had the business savvy to run a business. Hudson Lifestyle had never laid off a single employee. When a freelancer's kid had gotten leukemia, the magazine (i.e. Jonathan) had paid all her bills, and the girl was now at Columbia, getting her law degree.

  So it was all very noble and lovely. It just wasn't me.

  I wasn't a hundred percent sure what was. Unlike Kate and Sean, I never had a calling. I liked people. I liked being useful. That was about all I knew.

  Maybe it was time for me to travel. Or live alone. Or get a degree that might serve me better than philosophy.

  My phone rang from somewhere in the depths of the sofa where Ollie had hidden it. I dug around, pulled it out.

  Judy.

  "Hello?" I said.

  "Sweetheart? It's me."

  My eyes welled unexpectedly at the sound of her voice. "Hi," I said. "How are you?"

  "We're fine. We miss you."

  A longing for their kitchen, for Judy's pancakes, for Aaron's bear hugs, for family game night, swamped me. "I miss you guys, too."

  "How are your parents?"

  "Uh...they're fine." Dad had taken Candy's news with grace (I hoped he noticed Candy had moved out), then gone off to Anaheim for a few days. But I wasn't going to tell the Fishers about my parents. A few months ago, Judy would've been the first person I called. That had obviously changed.

  "Would you come over, honey? We have a little something for you."

  I looked at the time. Two o'clock. "Okay. I'll be there in about an hour."

  I showered and dressed carefully in a white dress with pink poppies printed on it and pink canvas shoes. Put on a little makeup. "Come on, Ollie," I said. "We're going for a ride." The Fishers loved Ollie.

  On the drive over, I wondered what they had for me. Maybe something from our house? Maybe my Hanukkah presents, since Judy shopped all year round to find the perfect gifts?

  I pulled into their driveway, and the lump came back to my throat. I couldn't count the number of times I'd been here. Hundreds. I was in at least five framed photos that hung in the house--more than at my own parents' house.

  I opened the door, which was never locked. "Hello?" I called, setting Ollie on the floor. My little dog tore off into the kitchen, barking madly. "It's Ainsley."

  "Come on in, honey!" Judy called. I walked into the kitchen, the smell of baked goods in the air.

  And jerked to a stop.

  Eric was here, holding Ollie in his arms as the overjoyed and traitorous dog licked his face, whining with happiness.

  "Sweetheart!" Aaron said, hugging me. My arms stayed at my sides.

  My never-fiance smiled at me. "Hey," he said. Hey. After all this, hey? Please.

  He looked confident and gorgeous. He was wearing contacts, which was unusual, and had a beard, like in the picture. His hair was longer than I'd ever seen it, scooped back into the dreaded man-bun, and his face was ruddy from sun exposure, his nose a little burned.

  His rugged man appeal hit me straight in the gut. "Eric," I said flatly. "You're back."

  "I did what I needed to do," he said.

  "Well, surprise!" Judy said. "We'll leave you kids alone to talk. There's cake! And cookies. And some ice cream in the freezer. And if you're hungry, Ainsley, there's a roast chicken in the fridge."

  "We're good, Mom. Thank you," Eric said, setting down the dog.

  "We'll just go outside, then. Ollie, do you want a ball? Can you catch the ball?" Ollie flew out with them, and Judy tossed a tennis ball, but if I knew her, she'd be at the window eavesdropping in ten seconds.

  "Have a seat," Eric said, pulling a chair back. "You look fantastic."

  "I won't be here long, Eric."

  "Well, hear what I have to say, okay? I mean, we have ten years together."

  "Eleven."

  "Even more reason to stay." He smiled and poured me some coffee, stirring in sugar and cream. Irritating, that he remembered how I took it.

  He sat down next to me. "Want cake?"

  "Just get to it. I have things to do. That man-bun looks ridiculous, by the way."

  He laughed, not bothered in the least. "Yeah, I need to get a haircut." He looked at his own coffee. "Thank you for seeing me."

  "I was tricked into it."

  "Well, thanks anyway." Another smile. "Okay, I'll cut to the chase. I can't say I made a mistake in going to Alaska, but I sure made a mistake leaving you." He looked at me steadily.

  "Fascinating," I said. "Are you done?"

  "Ains, I don't know what happened. To say I freaked out would be a gross understatement."

  "Agreed."

  "I think you know better than anyone--better than I do, even--what was going on. It's just like you said. I was scared of dying, then Nathan's accident... I just lost it." He squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I lost you. I threw you away, and it was the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life. For the past month, I've been meditating on it and I'm so, so sorry, Ainsley. You're the best thing--"

  "Why don't we stop here?" I interrupted. "Apology not accepted. Was that all?"

  He put his hand over mine, and it was still there. The tingle. The connection. The familiarity that I used to love with all my heart. My Eric, our life.

  Which he'd shat upon.

  I pulled my hand back.

  He leaned forward, his face earnest and serious, none of that glazed-over zealousness he'd had all through his cancer months.

  "You have every right to be mad and hurt," he said. "Of course you do. And, babe, if I could have a do-over on the past four months, I'd take it in a heartbeat. If you gave me another chance, I'd spend the rest of my life making sure you didn't regret it. I love you. I've always loved you."

  "That's not what you said in the restaurant that night. And that's not what you blogged about."

  "I think I was having a psychotic break."

  "Oh, please."

  He nodded. "Okay. A midlife crisis, then, a decade or so early?" He smiled, then grew serious again. "Ainsley, for eleven years, we were so perfect together. We've had a hundred and thirty-seven months together. I did the math," he added with a wink. He knew I couldn't multiply in my head. "Four of those months were me being a complete and total ass. Does that wipe out everything else? Because I did want to marry you. I still do. I want you to be the mother of my--"

  "Stop," I said. "I don't want to hear this." But my voice was trembling with an emotion I couldn't pin down. Anticipation? Happiness? Hate?

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. "Let me make it up to you, Ainsley. Marry me. Let's have that life we were meant to have. I'll never let you down again." He gave a crooked smile, his lovely brown eyes warm.

  And there was my ring, the first time I'd seen it since the night Nathan died. The beautiful, hypnotic ring.

  I suddenly knew what the trembling was. Fury.

  "Are you out of your mind?" I said. "You smug, spoiled, entitled little shit. You broke my heart, humiliated me every chance you got, called me a corpse dragging you down, and you think I'm going to marry you?"

  "But I'm sorry," he said, his e
yebrows coming together. "I didn't know what I was doing. I was wrong, and now I want to do what's right. Let me fix this. I didn't mean what I said or did."

  "I disagree. You did and said exactly what you wanted to. And now that you've communed with the Inuit and listened to the wolves and your fifteen minutes of fame is over, you think you can just pick up where we left off? No."

  "But...but... Ainsley, listen. Honey. Listen." He sat back in his chair and put both hands on the table. "I talked to Ryan Roberts. He'll interview us on his show."

  Fresh shock slapped the hell out of my face. "You gotta be kidding me."

  "No! I can undo everything I did! I was an ass on television, and now I can go back on the air and eat humble pie and tell the world how much I love you." He paused. "And you love me. I know you do."

  I stood up and pushed my chair back into the table. "No, Eric, I don't. I did, but you smashed that, and it doesn't get glued back together."

  "Well, I know there's not someone else, because you're not the type to sleep around for revenge." He stood up, too. "Are you?"

  "My personal life is no longer your business. Good luck with everything." I opened the slider. Aaron and Judy froze, Ollie leaping around their feet.

  They knew. Their faces fell.

  "Bye, you two," I said, and then my eyes did fill with tears. These people had been the family I always wanted. But they weren't mine anymore. "Thank you for everything."

  "We'll always love you, sweetheart," Aaron said, and I choked on a sob. Then I scooped up my dog and left.

  Cried all the way home, Ollie whining from the backseat.

  When I was in the center of Cambry-on-Hudson, I decided to call Jonathan. "Are the girls there?" I asked.

  "No, I just dropped them off with their mother." There was a pause. "Are you all right?"

  "Can I come over?"

  "Of course."

  When I parked at his house, I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. My chest and neck were blotchy, and Ollie licked my face, then whimpered to get out.

  I went inside, Ollie nearly killing me by tangling in my feet so he could beat me.

  "Hello, Oliver," Jonathan said, bending down to pet him, though his eyes were on me. "Has something made your mommy sad?"

  "Eric's back in town."

  He stood up and folded his arms. Adjusted his gaze so it was over my shoulder. "I see."

  "He wants to get back together. I didn't even know he was back, but his parents called me, and--"

  "Oh, no, by all means, get back together," he said, his voice almost a growl. "You have eleven years with him, right? So what if he humiliated you in front of eight million people and left you so he could find his spirit animal in Alaska? Absolutely, you should get married and have little Erics and--"

  "I said no, idiot."

  That stopped him. "Oh."

  "And it wasn't because of you, either, so don't think that."

  He blinked. "Why was it, then?"

  "Because! Because he's a self-centered, narcissistic ass-pain who didn't appreciate all the love I gave him and thought there was something better out there and now he's found out that there's not, but you know what? Too little, too late."

  "I see."

  "Yes, you should see! Did you really think I'd get back together with him?"

  "I probably shouldn't have--"

  I jammed my hands on my hips. "Well, why wouldn't you? You have no idea who I am, do you? You made me sign that paper so I wouldn't sue you, as if I would. And you make us date in secret. And you won't let your kids see me, which I actually respect. Still, it hasn't escaped my attention that you're probably 60 percent in love with me and 40 percent positive I'm a terrible idea. So don't worry, Jonathan. I'm not counting on you for anything. I didn't tear Eric a new orifice because I have a secret boyfriend. I did it for me. He doesn't deserve me."

  "Got it."

  "By the way, I quit."

  The grandfather clock ticked from the living room. Ollie dragged a throw pillow off the couch and curled up on it.

  "Yeah," I said more quietly. "I quit. It's time, don't you think?"

  "I...I don't know."

  "I do." He was standing very, very still, and it occurred to me that he hadn't contradicted me once. "I would still like to date you, by the way," I said. "Even if we're only dating 60 percent."

  "Good."

  That one word made my heart swell almost painfully. "I'm leaving now," I said.

  "Very well."

  "I'll give you two weeks' notice so you can find someone else."

  The almost-smile struck again. "I appreciate that."

  "Okay, I'm really leaving. I want to ride this wave of moral indignation."

  He grinned then, and I couldn't help it, I smiled back. Then I got my dog and left, feeling more proud of myself than I had in a long, long time.

  *

  That night, Candy came over, and she and Kate and I made dinner and then Skyped with Sean and Kiara and the kids, which was ridiculous because he lived forty-five minutes away and could, one imagined, get in his damn car once in a while and visit his family.

  Still, it was worth it to see Sadie blowing us kisses and showing us her stuffed animals, and to get a glimpse of Esther and Matthias, who graced us with hellos.

  Then there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," I said, though I was already in my Yertle the Turtle pajamas.

  It was Jonathan.

  "Oh, Jonathan! Hello!" Candy said.

  "Hello, Dr. O'Leary," he said. "Kate."

  "Hi, Jonathan," she said, a smile in her voice.

  "What can I do for you, boss?" I asked.

  He took my face in his hands and kissed me. A deep, thorough, fantastic kiss that made my heart turn into hot caramel goo.

  "Well, this is surprising," I dimly heard my mother say.

  He pulled back and looked at me with those beautiful, changing eyes. "Sixty-five," he said.

  "Excuse me?" My voice was husky.

  "Sixty-five percent, at least. Possibly sixty-seven." Then he looked over my shoulder. "Good night, ladies," he said and then left, glancing back at me with a smile.

  Sixty-seven, huh?

  I'd take it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kate

  August was a long month. Maybe there was something to what my mother had said about milestones, because I found myself looking forward to the fall, to the end of this year, the year Nathan died. To next spring, when it would be a year, when my head would be clearer and I'd know what to do. Because these days, my brain was fuzzy and the heat pressed down on me, and all I wanted to do was nap.

  "Perfectly normal," LuAnn said in grief group. "You leave the house with the wrong clothes sometimes, am I right?"

  "Grief is wearying," Lileth, the social worker, said in her singsong voice.

  "Fucking exhausting if you ask me," LuAnn said.

  Leo wasn't there this week. His presence had been sporadic lately, which we knew was a good sign. George, too, had been absent; he'd had lunch a few times with Gram-Gram, in fact. Ainsley's doing, of course.

  My sister had left her job, started work at the Blessed Bean and was taking two classes at the community college. She wanted to be a nurse, she thought, and in my opinion, she'd be perfect--so energetic and sweet, so eager to take care of people.

  I heard all about Eric, and I loved her so much for her ferocity. A year ago, I never thought I'd say it, but I admired my little sister more than just about anyone else. She had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. She had convictions, and she put her money where her mouth was.

  And it was awfully nice to see her and Jonathan together. He watched her closely; I wasn't sure if she noticed, but he barely took his eyes off her. She blushed a lot around him. I liked that, too.

  The Coburns' anniversary benefit was a few weeks away, and I had to get the porch swing from Daniel. If he'd finished it. If not, I still had the plans for their house expansion finished; Phoebe had done the job for me (and cried when she ca
me here to drop the plans off).

  That party would be an incredibly difficult event.

  I missed Daniel. Our little friendship hadn't felt little at all.

  Last week, I turned forty and asked Ainsley and my parents not to do anything for it. Ainsley had left a little gift--an antique heart locket--and a Carvel ice cream cake in the freezer and said nothing.

  Sean had needed no prompting to forget my birthday; he never remembered. I got a card from Kiara signed with all five of their names and the message Happier times ahead, my darling sister-in-law. She was awfully wonderful. Sean didn't deserve her.

  I slept and I ate and I waited, though for what, I wasn't really sure. The Nikon stayed on the shelf. Every day that passed made it harder to bear the thought of looking at the last pictures ever taken of Nathan, my gentle, sweet husband of ninety-six days.

  I didn't see Madeleine again. I hoped that would remain true for the rest of my life. Honestly, I felt sorry for her. She really had loved Nathan, and she'd lost him, just like I had. The fact that she'd been a royal bitch, well...people told themselves what they needed to. If Nathan had kept a secret from me, what could I do about it? I was just too tired to carry it anymore.

  "I forgive you, Nathan," I said to the empty air one night when Ainsley was at Jonathan's. "If you loved Madeleine, it's okay."

  I listened for an answer. Nothing, as usual.

  With a sigh, I got up to make myself a milk shake, because I was a widowed adult and who cared if I gained thirty pounds, and also the I can't eat phase of grief had passed. So yeah, a milk shake would be just the ticket.

  The windows and doors were all open, and the crickets made a deafening chorus along with the katydids, always the sound of summer's end.

  A year ago today, Nathan and I had been on four dates.

  I scooped out the ice cream into the milk shake maker--Nathan had been in love with kitchen gadgetry, so of course we had one. Added milk and some vanilla, and pushed Start. I waited till it was done, then took the cold metal glass and sipped the drink. Perfect. Nice and cold.

  And then I smelled his cologne, smelled him, and my whole body tingled in a warm, strange wave. I froze, then inhaled again slowly.

  Yes. That was his smell. That was Nathan's smell. And oh, God, I missed it.

  "Honey?" I whispered. Not that I expected an answer. The tingle was still rolling over me.

  I love you, I thought with all my heart.

  Then it--he--faded away, and it was just me and the katydids again. I closed my eyes, inhaled again, but now there was just the smell of vanilla.