Nothing Less

by Anna Todd

  “Come”—Stausey grabs my hand—“dinner is almost ready.” She leads me to the dining room and sits me at the head of the table.

  “Landon, come sit by me.” Nora pats the chair next to her as she sits.

  I nod and go over to her. Stausey ends up sitting down across from me, and Todd sits next to her, across from Nora.

  “Todd is the best cook,” Stausey announces to us as Nora fills up my wineglass. The food looks great: a roasted chicken with rice and every other starch known to man. Stausey kisses her husband’s cheek, and he gives her a smile of pure admiration. “Isn’t that right?”

  I look at Nora, who’s staring down at her plate. When her eyes raise to mine, she smiles and bites down on her lip to keep her smile small. She grabs a pair of tongs from the center of the table and digs into the second platter, stacked high with vegetables.

  “So, Landon . . .” Todd begins, being nice enough to initiate conversation since the rest of us don’t seem able to, though I do wish he wouldn’t have chosen the exact moment I stuffed a forkful of chicken in my mouth to do so. “Sophia says you’re studying at NYU? How are you liking it? I had a lot of buddies graduate from there.”

  Nora takes another bite of her food, and I chew quickly so I can answer him. “I love it. I’m taking Early Childhood Education, so sophomore year is when it gets fun.”

  Stausey chokes on her bread, and I reach for my water to calm my itchy throat. “Sophomore? I thought you were a senior at New York University?” Apparently, acronyms like NYU are below Stausey’s pay grade.

  “No, I’m second year. I’m ahead by a few credit hours, but I just transferred from Washington Central after my freshman year.”

  Nora stares at me with an unreadable expression, and Stausey turns to her, obviously confused. “Hmm,” Stausey lets out, and I catch her looking at my wineglass. It must be occurring to her that I’m not old enough to legally drink in their house. And now they have not only let in a random college kid living in Brooklyn, they’ve broken the law for him.

  “I must have misunderstood.” Stausey looks pointedly at her younger sister. “Anyway, what do you think of New York? It’s a beautiful city, always something to do. Though sometimes I hate the crowds. We live back and forth between here and Washington State, and I love it there more.”

  Nora tells me that her sister always moves, and Stausey says they’re lucky that her husband is such a good surgeon and real-estate investor. How nice. Is this the part where I mention that I can recite almost every line of the first Lord of the Rings movie? My qualifications and his are polar opposite. I don’t have much to add to the conversation.

  “I can see why you would like Washington,” I say, deciding to agree with everything she says to make it easier.

  Nora’s sister talks of vineyards and benefits and a symphony that they had to wait a month to see. I nod along, and Nora adds a few words here and there. This Stausey, she’s quite the talker. I clear my plate and fill it up again, finishing it all. When I’m done, Nora asks if I’m full, and the second that I nod yes, Stausey stands up from the table and brings back a cake. It’s good: marshmallow icing and marbled chocolate cake.

  I ask Nora if she made it, and she nods. “This is the best cake I’ve ever had,” I say not once, but twice.

  “Sophia is the best baker, isn’t she? I used to think she was crazy for turning down medical school. It’s such a difficult program to get into, and she had a way in. I thought she was crazy, saying she wanted to go to cupcake school.” Stausey’s tone could pass for passive-aggressive at best. She delivers the blows with such a sweet smile, you would never know what hit you.

  But Nora knows, rolling her eyes at her sister. “Looks like the family is doing just fine with one less surgeon.” Her plate is empty in front of her, and she’s on her third glass of wine. Or was it her fourth?

  I don’t want this evening to turn sour so fast. I want everyone to be as comfortable as possible, and of course I want her sister and her husband to get the best impression of me possible. The energy in the room is growing tense, and I can feel the four of us walking on a tightrope. One slipup, and we all fall.

  “She’s a good chef, yes.” I take a page from Leo as Gatsby and raise my glass to my lady. Nora’s gaze turns to me, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “It’s pretty impressive what she can do. My roommate, Tessa, works with her and told me she’s the first pastry chef that’s been promoted so fast.”

  I continue to talk Nora up. I remember her annoyed reaction when I referred to her as a baker before.

  Todd speaks first. “That’s awesome, Soph. I knew since you were a girl you were a hell of a cook. Remember when you had that little oven and would make cakes all day?” He takes a gulp of red wine and looks between Nora and me. “One time she got me to give her twenty bucks! For one cake!” Nora’s brother-in-law looks at her with pride. This is good. He must be a decent guy if he’s willing to admit that he’s impressed with her, as he should be.

  “Always sneaky,” I tease, poking at her thigh. She reaches for my hand under the table, and I weave my fingers through hers.

  “Her and my brother used to get in all kinds of scamming business ventures,” Todd continues. “They once asked me to buy them a little cart to sell their stuff out of.” Todd’s gifted with being able to remember parts of Nora that I would love to be a part of.

  I take another drink of wine, knowing I wouldn’t dare to ask for another glass when I finish this one. “How long have you known Nora?” I ask, but Stausey answers.

  “Since she was ten. He met her about when we started dating. We were high school sweethearts.” Stausey holds her husband’s hands and he looks at me. I remember Nora telling me about his little sister who she made friends with—Pedra was her name? But she didn’t mention his brother. Did I mishear her?

  “Yes, but it took us a while to figure that out,” Todd adds, reminding Stausey that they aren’t perfect, despite her seeming need to be perceived that way. I don’t know her well. I don’t know why I’m judging her at every turn. If I hadn’t looked at her Facebook, how I would think of her?

  “Stausey and my brother were very close,” he says, eyeing me.

  Stausey kisses her husband’s cheek. “So were we. Ameen and I were inseparable since the day we met.”

  Nora’s thumb rubs circles into my hand, and I wish I could have a few minutes alone with her. I want to ask her how I’m doing, how she’s doing.

  “When do you go back to Washington?” I ask whichever of them wants to answer.

  To my surprise it’s not Stausey. She has been quieter in the last few minutes than she had been the entire night. “Tuesday,” Todd says. “Stausey is staying here while I go to DC for a conference. I’ll swing back by and get her Tuesday and we will take a late flight back to Washington. We have a benefit that next evening; it’s going to be a busy-ass week.” He smiles, looking a little worried, and it makes me like him more. The idea that “swinging” back by to get his wife from another city is as casual as taking the subway makes me laugh to myself.

  Nora looks over at me, but I pinch my lips closed.

  “Do you have time to do some baby shopping with me, Soph?” Stausey asks.

  It’s weird hearing them call her Sophia, let alone a pet name. What would happen if I called her that? And what is with everyone having double names around here? Nora-Sophia and Todd-Ameen. Should I ask them all to start calling me Matthew? That’s my middle name, and I could easily start asking my close friends to call me only that. I wonder if it would confuse Nora the way her name switch confused me?

  Nora nods at her sister and looks genuinely interested in baby shopping. Whatever type of relationship Nora has with her sister, it clearly doesn’t affect Nora’s admiration for the coming baby.

  chapter

  Twenty-five

  ANOTHER HALF HOUR OF SMALL talk passes and the table is cleared. The sisters have disappeared into the kitchen, and I’m sitting on the couch
with Todd and an army of decorative pillows. One has small foxes on it, spread out like polka dots. The rest are solid colors. Why are there so many? Does anyone actually use them? I push my elbow into the fox pillow to test how soft it is. My elbow sinks into it, so maybe they are comfortable . . .

  “Having fun?” Todd’s Disney-prince smile makes me slightly jealous of this guy. I mean, he has known Nora since she was a girl, and he’s a surgeon and a husband who has a spare apartment in New York City just in case they decide to visit. I share a tiny apartment with my friend and just started to understand how to separate my laundry. Nora is used to being around these kinds of people. People who have their shit together and are old enough to have mortgages and airline miles.

  I situate my body and put the fox pillow on my lap and nod.

  “She loves her pillows.” Todd points to the one sitting on my lap.

  “I think it’s a woman thing. My mom is the same way.” My mom? Really? I’m sitting in an apartment overlooking downtown Manhattan and talking about my mom.

  This whole night is totally out of my league. I think about my family’s old house and the way the carpet never looked clean. My mom would rent one of those Rug Doctors from Odd Lots and spend two hours cleaning the carpets, but the years of stains just wouldn’t relent.

  How would it be having Nora in my hometown? Would she shine too brightly for the cloudy Midwestern town? I look around the spacious living room and count the number of chandeliers suspended from the high ceiling. Three are in my peripheral vision alone. I look at the decorations lined perfectly on the mantel above the electronic fireplace. A little metal statue, a piece of wood cut into a triangle . . .

  “They will probably be in there awhile.” Nora’s brother-in-law rubs his hand over his neck. “I’m just glad they’re talking again.” He sighs and grabs a bottle of liquor from a cart next to the couch. It’s full of different types of alcohol and different mixers. There’s a lime, a lemon, and even little straws. I guess that’s what it’s like to be an adult, you get to have a minibar in your house and your wife gets to buy all the weird pillows she wants.

  Should I ask him why they weren’t talking? Or would that look like she doesn’t tell me anything—oh, wait, she doesn’t.

  I choose to play it cool. “Yeah, me, too.”

  Todd pours himself a drink. He calls it a gimlet; I don’t really understand the language of wealthy people, but I nod along while he tells me the elaborate origin of the gin used in his drink. He offers me one, but I decline.

  “Stausey really does love her. I know she can go about it the wrong way and come off a little too strong.” He takes a bigger swig. “But she’s just worried about her little sister. She barely sleeps anymore, and not just because the baby is the size of a fucking watermelon.”

  Todd smiles and I find this comparison funny. His wife does look like she’s smuggling a watermelon under her dress.

  I continue to bullshit my way through the conversation. The only other option is to tell Todd that I don’t have any freaking idea what’s going on between the sisters.

  “I’m sure Nora appreciates her worry. She’s just not that great at taking sympathy from people. You know how she is,” I say, even though I clearly have no clue how she is.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He rests his back against the couch. He looks around the living room like he’s searching for something. I look around, too, staring at a huge print of one of his and Stausey’s wedding photos. Nora is there, in a beautiful pink gown, her hair curled and lying across her shoulders. The guy next to her looks somewhat familiar, and so does the guy next to him. My discomfort is clearly making me imagine things.

  “Look, I know we just met and I’m completely overstepping here, but we are all hoping you being around will be good for Nora. You know, she hasn’t brought anyone around us since the accident, and we were starting to think she would never date. It was starting to look like she would never sign those papers.”

  Papers? Accident? What the hell is he talking about?

  “Um . . .” I clear my throat. Why did I turn that drink down? “I’m glad to hear it.” My throat is on fire. I lean up and look down the hallway. Where is Nora?

  “We are on her side. That’s why we want her to sign them. My family is up in arms over this.” He runs his hands over his facial hair and his eyes are strained.

  I’m out of resources here. I can only play pretend for so long. He’s getting too specific now, and I’m as clueless as ever. I can’t believe Nora would bring me into this place without a warning. She did tell me it was a bad idea to meet her sister, but I didn’t think it was anything like this, where there would be family drama and talk of papers and some mysterious accident.

  “I can talk to her,” I offer, not knowing what else to say.

  “Really?” His face lights up. “Anything will help. We just don’t understand why she won’t sign the papers. They were already separated before any of this. It doesn’t have to be this messy, and honestly”—he takes a deep breath—“I would love to have this all resolved before the baby comes.”

  Yeah. So would I. I would love to have just a hint as to what the hell is happening around me.

  “Yeah, I get it. I’ll see what I can do.” I stand up. I need to find Nora before my head explodes. “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”

  He points. “Yeah, straight down and to your left,”

  I thank him and the words burn in my throat. He doesn’t move from the couch when I leave the room.

  I go to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. It always works in movies when people do that. However, then I dry my face off on a monogrammed towel and feel even more out of my element.

  There’s too much going on. Nora, this fancy apartment, and the fancy secrets it holds.

  I pee and wash my hands. When I stare at myself in the mirror, I look different. Is it the lighting or do the missing patches of facial hair make me look younger?

  I don’t belong in this place, with these people.

  chapter

  Twenty-six

  WHEN I FIND NORA IN the kitchen, she’s scooping diced potatoes into a plastic bag. Stausey is sitting at a small round table in the corner of the room. I can practically hear her feet screaming to be let free of their strappy heels. No way they aren’t swollen.

  “Nora, can I talk to you for a minute?” I stand straight and stare at her, ignoring Stausey. I don’t need either of these two to try to get me off track here. I need to talk to Nora, and she needs to explain what the hell I just walked into.

  She briefly looks at me and continues to put the dinner away. “Yeah, just give me a few minutes.”

  I should nod and walk away. I should be polite and not cause a scene. The words repeat in my head: “papers,” “accident,” “before the baby comes.”

  I stand still in the entryway of the kitchen. My cheeks are hot and my legs want to run away, but I can’t back away now. I need to know what the hell is going on. “It’s important,” I press.

  Nora’s eyes rise to mine, and I can see her assessing the situation. A flash of understanding makes its way over her face, and she nods, dropping the bag onto the counter. She tells Stausey that she’ll be back, then leads us to the roof to talk. There’s privacy out there, she says.

  “What’s going on?” Nora asks as soon as we get outside. It’s a shared rooftop, but we’re the only ones using it. Good. Nora saunters over to a couch next to the largest table, and I follow. She sits down, and I take the chair across from her. I don’t want to get too close to her or I know how this will go. I’m sure that she’ll be pulling out all the stops the moment I begin pressing for an explanation.

  “You tell me what’s going on.” My demand sent, I look at her and wait.

  The view up here is incredible. I can see the Empire State Building, and if I weren’t so mad at Nora, I would be able to enjoy this New York moment. I haven’t had many such moments since I got here. I spend most of my time working
and walking around campus between classes. The lights are bright, the city is loud and alive, and this would be so much more enjoyable under different circumstances.

  Nora leans against the back of the couch. “Do you want to explain to me what happened, or should I guess?” Her voice is steady—cold, even.

  “That’s a good question. That’s a really good question, Nora. Todd seems to think that I can get you to sign some sort of paper, and informed me that you and your sister weren’t speaking recently, and mentioned some sort of ‘accident’ that is apparently pivotal to something or other.”

  Nora’s face is hidden under the shadow of the night, so I can’t see her expression. She doesn’t move her body, not one centimeter. “He what?”

  If I didn’t know her better, I would think she was genuinely surprised. “Don’t play coy about it. Just tell me, Nora. You brought me into this apartment knowing that I didn’t know a thing about your relationship with your sister. So either tell me or don’t. But I can’t play these games with you. You either want me to be a part of your life or you don’t.”

  Nora shifts and gapes at me. She looks genuinely shocked, and I can’t believe her nerve, or mine. I scoot to the end of my chair and don’t look away from her hard stare.

  “Obviously I want you to be a part of my life.”

  That’s it. She doesn’t say anything else.

  Is she kidding? I don’t remember the last time I was this angry. I feel like a puppet on strings, and I’m tired of playing this back-and-forth with her. If she doesn’t want to open up to me, I’m done trying.

  “If that’s true, then act like it. Because so far, all I’ve gotten from you is mixed signal after mixed signal, and I’m sick of trying to figure out what’s true and what’s not.”

  Nora leans up and reaches for my hands.

  I pull them away. “Talk to me. If you want to touch me, talk to me.”