Nearlyweds

by Beth Kendrick

  “That’s easy for you to say—you’ve got Nick.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “I mean, look at my life and then look at yours.” Her laugh was low and wistful. “No wonder you didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving with us.”

  My cheeks burned with shame. “Tanya—”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I’m glad you’re happy. And I understand. If I married a guy like Nick and had a marriage like yours, I wouldn’t want to deal with our family, either.”

  Ten years had gone by since high school, and Tanya and I were still exactly the same: the Nestor girls who were never quite good enough, who never fit in. While my sister went on and on about how lucky I was to have snared the Golden Boy, I finally admitted that the qualities that most embarrassed me about her were the ones I still struggled with myself. I’d distanced myself not because she hadn’t changed since childhood but because I was afraid I hadn’t.

  I heard call waiting click on Tanya’s end of the connection.

  “Oh, gotta go,” my sister said. “That might be Brett.”

  “So what if it is?” I asked, incensed. “I thought we just decided—”

  “Call you later, Case. Love you!” She left me with a dial tone.

  I sat on the bed for a few minutes, replaying the conversation I’d just had. Tanya and I might be more similar than I wanted to admit, but that didn’t mean we had to continue down the same path.

  “Hey, Stella,” I yelled, opening the bedroom door. “Get in here and help me pack up Nick’s stuff!”

  She peeked in, eyes wide. “What happened to ‘He’s my husband and I can handle him’?”

  I reached into the closet and pulled out a stack of Nick’s jeans and folded shirts. “This is how I’m handling him. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore. Grab that duffel bag and throw his shoes in.”

  Stella started to laugh when she saw the inside of our closet. “You color code your wardrobe?”

  “Less jawing. More packing.”

  “Remind me never to work for you.”

  “Come on,” I teased, “you’re such a natural with dogs.”

  She nibbled her lower lip. “Speaking of work, I’m going to have to find a job now. Do you think there are any families out here who need nannies?”

  “Only the summer people,” I said. “But you could apply at some of the preschools, right?”

  “Yeah. Back to the minimum-wage world.” Stella looked less than enthusiastic about that prospect. “My mom’s going to be pissed. When I tell her I left Mark…” She shuddered. “Pray for me.”

  “She wants you to give the marriage a try?”

  “She wants me to stay married long enough to void the prenup,” Stella corrected. “Ten years.”

  I had to laugh. “Oh please. No one is that mercenary with their own child.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  We both froze at the distinctive sound of snow tires crunching over the icy parking lot in front of the building. I peeked out the bedroom windows to see a tall, shadowed figure emerge from the passenger side of an SUV.

  “Is it him?” Stella whispered, though obviously Nick couldn’t hear us from outside.

  I nodded.

  “Did you put the chain lock on the door?”

  “I think so. Maybe.”

  We raced down the hall to the front door. My heart pounded in time with the muffled thunks of footfalls on the stair treads.

  Keys jangled, the doorknob turned, and Stella and I leapt back from the threshold as the door jerked open a few inches, impeded by the small brass chain I’d slid into place.

  “What the…” Nick peered through the crack with one eye. “Casey?”

  I tried to sound casual. “Yes?”

  “Open the door; it’s cold out here!”

  I stood motionless, torn between wanting to stand my ground and wanting to fling open the door.

  “Casey?” Nick mashed his face into the crack of the door frame. “Who else is in there?”

  “Stella Porter,” I said crisply. “She’s staying here for a few days.”

  He snorted. “Since when are you friends with Stella Porter? I thought you said she was a—”

  “Never mind her,” I said quickly. “I want to talk about us. I take it you got my voice mail?”

  He paused. “The one about not being married anymore?”

  “Yes, Nick, that one.”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “You got that message and you didn’t bother calling me back?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You were gone for four days! Including Thanksgiving! And you didn’t call me once!”

  “I was trying to give you some time to cool off!”

  “I am cooled off!” I shrieked.

  “It’s not like I was doing lines of coke at a strip club, Case, it was just a football game.”

  “For four days!” I repeated. “For all I knew, you were lying dead in a ditch.”

  He stamped his feet on the welcome mat. “Okay. I see your point. You’re right. I should have called.”

  I practically dropped dead of shock. “Did you just say I’m right?”

  “Yeah.” His eye reappeared at the door. “I was a tool, and I’m sorry. Now will you please open the door?”

  I considered it for about half a second. “No.”

  “Casey.” His teeth started chattering. “Seriously. I’m dying out here.”

  “That’s not really my problem, is it?”

  “Look, it’s been a long couple days, and we’re both upset,” he said. “But I love you and we’ll work it out. Let’s sleep on it and talk everything over tomorrow.”

  That’s probably exactly what Brett had said to my sister. “No. I’m through talking to you. I’m sick of being the one who always has to compromise.”

  He paused. “You always have to compromise?”

  “That’s right! I have to do everything myself because when I wait for you to do it—”

  “Are you kidding me? You have to do everything yourself because you can’t stand it if everything doesn’t happen on your secret timetable!”

  I started pushing the door shut, nearly severing his nose.

  “Wait! No! I know I haven’t been the man of your dreams lately.” Nick pushed back against the door. “But I’ll make it up to you. I’ve been thinking a lot since you left me that message. I need to make some changes.”

  I wrapped my arms around my torso. “Yeah, you do.”

  “And I will, honey. I swear. We’ll start over.”

  “You have to make more of an effort,” I warned him.

  “I will.”

  “You have to take the initiative.”

  “Done.”

  I nibbled my lower lip. “You have to go down to the courthouse with me—tomorrow—and get married again.”

  Silence.

  “Nick?”

  I looked at Stella. Stella looked at me.

  “Nick?” I raised my voice.

  “Can’t we please talk about this tomorrow when we’re both feeling a little more—”

  “Cop-out,” Stella intoned.

  “Excuse me,” Nick said. “This is between me and Casey.”

  “Well, are you going to marry her or not?” Stella had become the curfew-obsessed, overprotective father I’d never had.

  “It’s none of your business!” Nick exclaimed.

  “No, go ahead and answer,” I told him. “I’d really like to know. Are we getting married again or not?”

  Another long silence. Then: “We already got married once.”

  “That means no,” I translated.

  “That does not mean no!” Nick insisted.

  I hugged myself tighter and asked, “Well, does it mean yes?”

  “It means we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Alone.”

  “Goodnight, Nick.” I slammed the door.

  18

  ERIN

  Today was a good day,” I
announced to David when I arrived home from the office on the Monday after Thanksgiving. “The waiting room was full of kids who picked up nasty bugs over the holiday weekend, but none of them belonged to Kelly Fendt.”

  David looked up from the newspaper. “Do you think she finally decided to listen to reason? Or just switched pediatricians?”

  “Hey. Whatever. I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.” I dropped my bulging leather tote bag on the kitchen table, then glanced around. “Where’s the dog?”

  David returned his attention to the paper. “In the basement.”

  “David!” I hurried across the kitchen toward the basement door. “It’s cold down there, and damp! How long has he been down there?” I heard pathetic whining and scratching; the second I turned the knob, Cash heaved his considerable weight against the door and came barreling out. He circled the table at top speed, slipping and sliding on the freshly waxed linoleum (thanks, Renée).

  “Hey buddy!” I kneaded the loose skin at the scruff of the dog’s neck. “Poor thing, locked up in the dark all day.” Cash threw himself on his back, begging for a belly rub. “Honestly, David, what were you thinking?”

  David hunched over behind the folds of newsprint. “It wasn’t my decision.”

  “Don’t try to pin this one on your mother. It’s your house!”

  “Yes, and she’s our guest and the dog scares her.”

  I put my hands on my hips and regarded Cash, who was wriggling upside down, all four feet pedaling in the air while his tail thumped against the cabinet with the rapid-fire precision of a machine gun. “This dog scares your mother?”

  Only the top of David’s hair was visible over the Arts and Living section. “She says shelter dogs are unpredictable. And after what happened Thursday night…”

  I rolled my eyes. “You guys are going to have to get over that. Thursday night was a fluke. He was in a new place with new people; he had an accident. If you must blame someone, blame me for not making sure he did his business before I took him inside. He had a bowel movement. He didn’t rip out her jugular.”

  “I see your point,” David conceded. “But my mom says—”

  “I washed the blankets, I said I was sorry, what more does she want?” I frowned, surveying the unusually quiet house. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “At her bridge club. The roads were icy, so Henry Reynolds offered to give her a ride.”

  I shook my head. “That man is a glutton for punishment.”

  My so-called husband finally lowered the newspaper, took off his glasses, and started rubbing his forehead. “She says she doesn’t want to be alone with the dog while you and I are off at work. She says he growled at her.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes. Now, I grant you that she can sometimes be a little, uh…”

  “Insane?” I suggested.

  “Oversensitive,” he amended. “But it’s possible, Erin. He could have growled. We don’t know anything about his history, or why his owners gave him up. Honey, sometimes dogs just snap, you know? They’ll be fine one minute, and the next…”

  “What’d she do, sit you down and make you watch Cujo on your lunch break?”

  “Honey, you know I’m on your side. But I’m not going to call my mother a liar and force her to spend all day with a dog that terrifies her. I’m just not.” He held up a hand when he saw my expression. “And luckily, this doesn’t have to start another huge fight between us, because he’s not even our dog.”

  “That’s right,” I said hotly. “He’s Stella’s, and I promised her I’d take good care of him. And barricading him in the basement all day—where we store all kinds of paint cans and chemical cleansing agents that could poison him, by the way—is not taking good care of him.” I stalked back toward the mudroom and grabbed his leash. “Come on, Cash, you deserve a walk.”

  “Erin…”

  “What?” I clipped the leash onto Cash’s collar, then looked expectantly up at David. “What?”

  His hazel eyes were bleak. “Please don’t be mad.”

  To my surprise, I realized I wasn’t angry. The initial flash of irritation had passed and left in its wake something much scarier: resignation. “I’m not mad,” I told him, pulling on my leather gloves. “But I’m not stupid, either. This is the way it’s always going to be with Renée. You’re always going to side with her.”

  “That’s not true,” he protested, but I cut him off.

  “Apparently, I have to decide if a three-way marriage with you, me, and your mother is something I can live with. At the rate we’re going, we might as well bring her down to the courthouse to sign the marriage license right under my name.”

  “Is that a threat? You’re not going to remarry me now?”

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I love you, but there’s a reason they say three is a crowd.”

  When I returned from the walk, my mood had improved and my biceps were aching from trying to rein in Cash, who pulled like a sled dog on the leash. A maroon Oldsmobile was parked on the curb by our mailbox, so I could only assume that Renée had returned from her bridge club with the long-suffering Henry Reynolds.

  “Hello,” I called as Cash tugged me through the doorway.

  “Oh Erin, dear, you’re back.” Renée rushed into the entryway to give me a hug and kiss, after which she made a big show of cowering from Cash, as if his fangs were dripping blood. “Just in time to meet Mr. Reynolds.”

  “Call me Henry.” A stocky, affable man in his sixties stepped forward to shake my hand. In his preppy khakis and brown leather bomber jacket, he looked a little like a New England version of Harrison Ford—so why did Renée spurn him every time he asked her out?

  “Pleased to meet you.” I yanked the leash as Cash sprang up on his hind legs and nuzzled Henry’s neck. “As is the dog.”

  Renée’s hands flew to her face. “Oh my word, David, do something! Better put him back in the basement.”

  “Nonsense.” Henry playfully cuffed Cash’s muzzle. “He’s a good boy, barely out of the puppy stage. Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you?”

  Cash wagged his tail so hard that he toppled sideways onto the carpet.

  My mother-in-law hid behind David, peering over his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, Renée, he’ll be fine.” Henry laughed, then winked at me. “Women, eh?”

  I smiled back. “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, it was nice to meet you, Erin. Renée never mentioned that her son was married—”

  I shot David a look.

  “—but I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon.” He turned back to Renée. “A pleasure, as always, madam. And if you change your mind about that movie on Friday…”

  “I won’t.” Renée didn’t crack a smile. “But thank you for the ride.”

  “Jeez, Mom,” David admonished as he closed the door behind Henry. “Why won’t you give the guy a chance?”

  “He seems nice,” I chimed in. “Very mellow.”

  “Mellow. Bah.” Her mouth puckered. “I don’t date, David, you know that.” She surveyed our home with a satisfied smile. “I have everything I need right here. Now, I have a surprise for you.” Renée looped her arm through David’s. “Henry gave me a gift certificate to the White Birch. Dinner for two.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” I said. “When do you think you’ll go with him? What about this weekend?” Maybe I could slip Henry a few extra bucks to keep her out all night, and David and I could break out the new lingerie I’d bought on Black Friday.

  Her eyebrows snapped together. “I told you, I don’t date. He’s not the first male to try to turn my head with baubles and trinkets. Presents like this are entirely inappropriate.”

  Foiled again. “So you gave it back to him?”

  “Of course not.”

  David nodded wearily. “So what are you proposing?”

  Renée pressed the gift certificate into his hand. “I’m proposing that you two newlyweds have a date night.�
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  He gaped at her. “Really?”

  She beamed. “Of course. You’ve hardly had a moment alone together since I moved in, and I know how you love the duck at the White Birch. Now run upstairs and change.”

  I tried not to look stunned. “Wow, Renée. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, darling.” She reached up to pat my cheek. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve been such a gracious hostess.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t detect the slightest trace of sarcasm in her voice. So I raced up after David, who took the stairs two at a time.

  “Can you believe this?” He charged into our walk-in closet and grabbed the first jacket and tie he saw. “You, me, the White Birch…and best of all, no Mom!”

  “I know.” I took my time selecting a black wool skirt to pair with a clingy blue top that Stella had helped me pick out at the mall. “This is really nice of her.”

  He yanked his sweater off over his head. “She’s probably going to use this as leverage to guilt-trip us for the next year, but who cares? Tonight, I get you all to myself. Alone at last!”

  “Mmm.” I threw him a saucy grin. “Maybe it’s time to test-drive my new black lace thong.”

  “Does this mean you forgive me for banishing Cash to the basement?”

  “I might.”

  “What if I promise to let him lie around in our bed all day, watching soap operas and eating bonbons?”

  I laughed. “Maybe I’ll go commando.”

  His hands slid down to my hips. “We could just skip dinner and you can have your way with me right here in the closet.”

  He kissed me, I kissed him back, and just as we were about to start rolling around on the carpet, Renée’s voice drifted in: “David? David, I need you.”

  “Damnit.” He broke away and headed toward the stairs, clutching his shirt and tie in one hand. He paused in the doorway, turning back to me with a hot, carnal stare he hadn’t given me since we left Boston. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes or I’m coming back up to finish what we started here.”

  I fished a black bra out of my underwear drawer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  In record time, I changed, swept my hair up into a French twist, and dabbed on perfume and eyeshadow. Exactly five minutes later, I was shrugging into my long black dress coat in the front hall. “Be good,” I told Cash. “We’ll be back soon.”