I swallowed, unsure if I should tell Ken to fuck off or keep talking.
“The truth is, you’re letting guilt from the past and fear of the future poison the potential of this relationship already, even though you really like this woman and think you could be happy together.” He pushed up his glasses again and leaned forward, knees on his elbows. “But you have to be willing to try, Sebastian. You have to be willing to fail. And that takes guts.”
My arms came uncrossed. Was he calling me a coward? “I have guts,” I said defensively. “I’m just trying to think things though. I don’t want to make the same mistakes I’ve made before, Ken. This girl is…special to me. She’s different.” I took a breath. “She’s perfect.”
Ken shook his head. “Nobody’s perfect. Not her, not you, not me…I don’t even think this is all stemming from OCD. Mostly, I think this is just a man scared to let himself be emotionally vulnerable to a woman he cares about.” He smiled wryly. “Oldest story in the book.”
* * * *
Later that afternoon I took the rowboat out on the bay and thought about what Ken had said. Was he right? Was it plain old fear of rejection rather than my OCD getting in the way of my taking a risk? How could he know, anyway? He didn’t hear that voice in my head that made me doubt everything. God, what I wouldn’t give for some fucking conviction about something.
The truth was, I didn’t want to be closed-off and miserable for the rest of my life. Maybe I’d thought I could be alone, but that was before Skylar showed me what it was like to be with her. And it wasn’t all sexual—well, it was a lot sexual—but it was also emotional. She made me want to share things with her I’d never talked about outside therapy. She made me want to change the way I lived my life. She made me want to deserve her, or at least try.
But I’d fucked up already…Would she forgive me if I apologized again?
Probably. That was the kind of person she was. But she might not be willing to take another chance on me without some assurance that I wasn’t going to keep doing this. And how the fuck could I offer her that kind of assurance when I had none of it myself?
All I could do was try harder, and as I rowed hard back toward the cabin, muscles aching, I vowed that I would.
She was worth the effort.
* * * *
The following day, I spent the morning at my father’s office, getting caught up on some files he’d assigned me, and the afternoon covering the front desk for Lorena, his assistant, who had to go pick up a sick child at school. My dad had offered to call in a temp, but I assured him I could handle the job. Mostly I spent the time thinking of things I could do for Skylar, ways I could make it up to her for being such a dick. I still hadn’t contacted her, but I had an idea in the back of my mind.
Around three, a couple came into the office that I’d never seen before. She was little but curvy, like Skylar, with a thick head of wavy light brown hair and a friendly smile. He was dark-haired and taller than his wife—they both wore rings, I noticed—but not really a tall guy. I wondered if she was pregnant, because as soon as they entered the lobby, she sank into a chair and put both hands over her stomach. “Oof,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Are you okay?” the guy asked, putting a hand beneath her chin. “I can run you home, Mia. You don’t have to be at this meeting.”
“I’m fine, just woozy. We’re already here so let’s get this done.”
He straightened up and approached me at the desk. “Hi. We have an appointment with Malcolm Pryce at three fifteen. Lucas Fournier.”
I noticed he had a slight accent. “Of course. I’ll let him know you’re here.” But after fumbling for a moment with the complicated phone on Lorena’s desk, trying to use the intercom, I gave up. “Okay, forget this thing. I’ll just go back there and tell him.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, but quickly turned his attention back to his wife.
I went down the hall and knocked on Malcolm’s open door. “Your clients are here. Fournier?”
“Oh, right. Fuck. ” He pushed back from his desk, which was a mess. It drove me crazy how disorganized he was. How the hell could he find anything in this shit pile? “I need a few minutes. I’ll meet with them in the conference room. Can you show them in?”
“Sure.”
“Great, thanks.” He stood up and straightened his tie before stacking some paperwork together.
Back up front, I found Lucas Fournier seated next to his wife, her hand in his. “Malcolm will be right up,” I told them. “In the meantime, I’ll take you into the conference room. I’m Sebastian, Malcolm’s brother.”
“Nice to meet you.” Lucas got to his feet and shook my hand before helping his wife rise slowly from her chair. “This is my wife, Mia.”
“Hi.” She shook my hand as well. “Sorry I’m a little green in the face. This pregnancy is killing me.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. “Congratulations?” I tried.
She smiled. “Exactly.”
“This way, please.” I showed them to the conference room and got them each a water bottle from the fridge in the kitchen across the hall.
“Thank you,” Mia said gratefully, unscrewing the cap and chugging the water. “I’m so thirsty all the time.”
“It’s because you’re working too much,” scolded her husband. But he did it gently. “You need to hire someone to help you.”
“Yes, I know. I’ll get around to it. But I haven’t found anyone I trust yet, and I like things done a certain way.” She tipped back the water bottle again and probably didn’t see him roll his eyes.
“Yes, I know. But you said you’d hire someone by the end of the month, and if you don’t, I will.”
“What do you do?” I asked, mostly to be polite.
“We own Abelard Vineyards,” he answered, pulling out his wallet and handing me a business card.
“Oh, nice.” I studied the card, my mind clicking. “I’ve heard of it. You took over from another winery a few years ago, right?”
“Yes, and bought some property adjacent to it, which is why we’re here. There’s a dispute over the property line with a neighboring farm, and we’ve already planted the area in question.” Lucas glanced at his wife. “We’re also expanding our tasting room and events schedule this summer, which is why we need to hire more help now.”
She ignored him. “Can I use your bathroom please?”
“Sure.” I gestured behind me. “It’s just down the hall to the left.”
“Thanks.” She looked at Lucas. “Be right back.”
He watched her leave, shaking his head. “She just went at the doctor’s office. It’s insane.”
I had no fucking idea what to say to that. What possible appropriate comment was there to make about his wife’s bladder? Luckily, he saved me.
“This is our third, so you’d think I’d remember all this.”
“Wow. Three.” I’d never pictured myself with kids, and Diana hadn’t wanted any, so I couldn’t imagine life with one, let alone three.
“Yeah, that’s why she needs an assistant. But she’s so damn stubborn.” He shook his head.
“What sort of help does your wife need? I know someone who was the assistant tasting room manager at Rivard, but she’s looking to do a little more.”
“Really?” Lucas looked interested. “What’s she doing now?”
“She’s working at Coffee Darling currently. That’s her sister’s shop. But I know she’d like something else.”
He nodded. “I know that place. They have good croissants.” Pulling out his wallet again, he gave me another card. “This is Mia’s card. Pass this along to her, and have her give Mia a call to set up an interview.” He smiled wryly. “Although my wife’s so picky and so moody these days, I almost don’t want to send your friend into the lion’s den.”
“She can handle moody,” I assured him.” And I think your wife would like Skylar—she’s beautiful and smart, and she works really hard.”
Lu
cas grinned. “Is her last name Pryce?”
“Ah. No.” The tips of my ears burned. “It’s Nixon.”
“Well, what are you waiting for, Pryce? Marry that girl.” His grin widened before he tipped up his water bottle again.
I rubbed the back of my neck, which suddenly felt hot too. “Yeah, it’s probably too soon for that. We’ve only been on one date.”
Mia came back in the room, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Sometimes that’s all it takes,” he said.
Chapter 22
Skylar
The Saturday before Memorial day, which was also the day of the reunion, I got off work a little early and moved my things into my parents’ house.
Back in my old room, I plugged in my laptop and phone, shoved a few boxes under the bed, hung dresses, skirts, blouses, and coats in my closet, and stacked shoe boxes beneath them. Into the drawers of my old dresser went underwear, socks, pajamas, bottoms and tops, workout clothes and a couple bathing suits. I tried not to feel too depressed about having to live with my parents, but it was hard. Every noise I heard, from the slam of the dresser drawers to the squeak of my old bed springs, reminded me that I was right back where I started from ten years ago. Even the smell of the house hadn’t changed—there was always a pie in the oven because my mother sold them at the little farm stand on the road.
Once everything was moved and unpacked, I went back to the guest house and helped my mother give it a thorough cleaning. She praised everything I’d done with it, from paint colors to linens to small finishing touches like the bin pulls, thanked me for my hard work, and told me I could stay at home as long as I liked. She knew something was up with me.
“Everything okay?” she asked, looking over at me from the window she was washing.
“Fine.” I continued wiping down the counters.
She was quiet a minute, her cloth squeaking on the glass. “Sebastian is nice. He going with you to the reunion tonight?”
“No.”
“Why not? I thought you graduated the same year.”
“We did. He doesn’t want to go.” I finished with the counters and moved on to the oven, which I hadn’t even used that much because I really didn’t cook. Yet another adult skill I didn’t have.
“Oh. What about Dani and Kristen?”
“They couldn’t make it in. Dani’s due in like two weeks, and Kristen’s in-laws were visiting or something.”
“Are you going alone, then?”
“I guess.”
She stopped what she was doing and came over to the kitchen. “You don’t sound very excited about it.”
“I’m not.”
“So why go at all?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I won’t.”
“Skylar.”
I finally turned and looked at her.
“What’s with you?” Her expression was concerned. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
Sighing, I leaned back against the oven. “I’m just trying to figure out some stuff and it’s stressing me out. I’m not much looking forward to the reunion because I’m embarrassed about failing as an actress and being on Save a Horse and the whole dethroning thing, but I haven’t done anything else worth talking about.”
“You’ve done a lot of things!” She threw up one hand. “You’ve traveled, lived in New York City, been on television…how many people can say that?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like much compared to what I said I was going to do.” I threw the rag onto the counter. “Or compared to what Nat and Jilly have done. I just feel like an asshole, okay? That’s what’s with me.”
“Skylar Nixon, you listen to me,” she said so forcefully I had to meet her eye. “I did not raise my girl to talk that way about herself. So you went to New York to chase a dream and it didn’t happen, so what. You know what I always say about failure.”
“It builds character,” I mumbled.
“That’s right. Failure builds character, and character is what you need right now. Character and confidence. This is no big thing! You think you’re the first small-town girl with stars in her eyes that got disillusioned with the reality of trying to make it in that world?”
“No,” I said through clenched teeth. God, now I was a fucking cliche.
“Of course you don’t, because you’re not stupid. Now, your entire life everyone’s been telling you what a special snowflake you are—but the truth is, you’re just like the rest of us, honey. That means sometimes you’re gonna get what you want, sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you’re gonna get it only to find out it’s not what you thought it was gonna be. It’s all part of the journey. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said, even though part of me was like, What do you mean I’m not a special snowflake? Was your mother supposed to say this stuff to you?
“Good. You can walk into that reunion tonight and be proud of who you are, Skylar. You’re a beautiful girl with a great big heart and a lot of potential. Good Lord, if we all had the answers by age twenty-seven, life would be pretty boring, don’t you think?”
I curled my upper lip. “I hate boring.”
She laughed, coming around the counter to give me a hug. I let her, wrapping my arms around her plushy middle and taking comfort in her pie-crust-and-Windex scent. “You always have. Go have fun tonight. You can think about life’s big choices tomorrow.”
* * * *
The reunion was being held at The Corner Loft downtown. I got ready in my old bedroom, feeling a little like I was leaving for the Prom, only without a date. In the spirit of being more responsible, I’d decided to take back the outfit I’d purchased to wear to the reunion and wear something I already owned—a fitted LBD with cap sleeves that hit me about mid-thigh. It was a little more conservative than I usually dressed for parties, but I wasn’t feeling all that festive. For me it was all about the shoes anyway, and I wore black strappy Louboutin heels with a satin bow at the back.
I took an Uber downtown, arriving early as promised to help with decorations. The reunion committee was there already, placing centerpieces on tables, setting up a photo booth, and giving a photo montage a test run on a large screen against one wall.
Jennifer Krege, the committee head, greeted me warmly. We hadn’t been close friends, but I remembered her as an outgoing high-achiever. “You look beautiful,” she said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Thanks. You look beautiful too.” She was very pregnant, her dress and flats were adorable, and I was jealous of the way she could wear an Audrey Hepburn updo. My ears made me look like a muppet when i tried. “What can I do to help?”
She put me to work setting out votive candles, and when that was done, she asked me to help her move some tables to make room for dancing. Other committee members said hello, and while no one squealed with joy when they saw me, no one spit in my eye either. Maybe the evening would be okay.
I relaxed even further after a couple glasses of wine, and even managed to have some fun reminiscing with former classmates about school plays, favorite teachers, choir trips, Homecoming parades and various dances. Maybe I was a little bit careful whenever I talked to someone to keep the conversation focused on the past, but other people seemed more interested in reliving the old days rather than talking about their current, everyday lives too. Only a few asked about Save a Horse, and when I confessed that pretty much everything they saw was staged, they said (much to my relief) that’s what they figured since I’d never been anything like that in school, and we went on to talk about other things.
Only one creeper asked about the mechanical bull, but I quickly excused myself to the ladies room after that.
But as the evening wore on, I found I enjoyed hearing about the different paths my classmates had taken, and I didn’t resent their happy marriages or adorable kids or professional lives. In fact, I was genuinely happy for them. There were even a couple divorces and failed start-ups and one juicy affair rumor, so I didn’t feel completely terrible about my mistakes or la
ck of direction. When people asked what I was doing now, I simply said I’d moved to New York for a while but missed home and family, so I was working for Natalie and the family farm while I figured out what to do next.
Far from being judgmental, some of my married-with-kids classmates expressed envy at my having so much time to myself, at all the possible avenues still open to me. I smiled and agreed, but inside I thought it would be nice to owe a little time to someone. It made me think of Sebastian (again), and I wondered what he was doing tonight. I hadn’t heard from him since I got out of his truck.
“I mean, seriously, you could like take off tomorrow and go to Rio or something and no one would even bother you,” Katelyn Witzke was saying to me, although her eyes were scanning the room behind me. “Ooh! There’s Sam Schatko. He looks bad. Did you hear about his wife? I heard she’s screwing his boss. Can you imagine?”
“No. Hadn’t heard that,” I murmured, thinking if Sam Schatko had bullied his wife like he’d bullied kids in school, he probably deserved it. But I didn’t say anything. Katelyn and I had run with the same popular crowd, but even back then I remember her always gossiping about someone. I hadn’t liked it much then and found it even less tolerable now.
“Anyway, I can’t even go to the bathroom without the boys following me in there. A shower by myself feels like heaven. And speaking of heaven, what god is that?”
“Huh?”
“That guy right there, behind you. He’s gorgeous. Did he go to our school?”
Confused, I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sebastian walking through the crowd, looking right at me. My breath caught in my throat—he did look gorgeous. And so serious. Wearing a dark blue suit and white dress shirt without a tie, he turned every female head in the place as he crossed the room. My stomach flip-flopped madly as he came closer.
Wait, I was mad at him. I narrowed my eyes.
But as he came closer and I saw the uncomfortable, almost pained expression on his face, I didn’t have the heart to brush him off when he got to my side. Had he come here for me? He had to.
1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine Page 59