Nearlyweds

by Beth Kendrick

  I threw my arms around his neck. “I’ll stay.”

  He scooped me up, carried me to the bedroom, and started our second honeymoon.

  20

  CASEY

  Nick walked into my store at noon on the dot. “Let’s go, Case, I’m taking you to lunch.”

  I’d spent the whole morning trying not to get my hopes up, trying not to let my heart leap into my throat every time I heard the bells on the shop’s door jingle. Nick Keating wasn’t one to come crawling back.

  But here he was, tall and handsome in his suit and tie, tracking slush all over my freshly mopped floors.

  “Wipe your feet, please,” I said, blasé as could be.

  He didn’t move. “Casey. Come on. We have to talk.”

  I tried to pretend I was Stella for a minute—confident and gorgeous and used to hunky men demanding lunches with me. “I have nothing left to say to you.”

  “Well, I have some stuff I have to say to you.” He scowled.

  “If this is about rest of your personal belongings, don’t worry. I’ll have them piled in the parking lot and ready to move by the end of the week. Including that ratty brown armchair.”

  “Okay, first of all, that armchair is not ratty, it’s comfortable.”

  “Fine. Including that comfortable brown armchair.”

  “But this isn’t about the armchair.”

  “Then what?” I spread my arms wide. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

  He glanced from one side of the shop to the other. “Not here. Can’t you close for an hour?”

  “No.” I took a seat on the stool behind the counter. “I’m not going to play by your rules any more. So say what you have to say or move along. I have a business to run here.”

  He recoiled. “Jeez, when did you get so—”

  “When did you stop loving me?” I demanded, jumping back off the stool. “And why did you marry me if you didn’t?”

  “What are you talking about? You know I love you.”

  “No, you don’t. Actions speak louder than words, Nick, and someone who loves me would not treat me the way you do.”

  He nodded. “If this is about Detroit—”

  “It’s about Detroit and the engagement ring that I had to buy myself and the wedding you tried to back out of and I should have let you.” I flattened my palms on the countertop. “You want out, I’m letting you out.”

  He started toward me. “I don’t want out.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, because I do.” I stared at the ceramic bowl full of dog treats next to the register. “I’ve waited long enough for you to love me the way that I love you. I thought if I worked hard enough, I could make this marriage work, but I can’t. I can’t do everything.”

  “No one’s asking you to do everything,” he said. “But you never let me do anything at my own pace. You push and you push and you push—”

  “Because you’d never do anything otherwise! How can I ever trust you again when you’ve made it blatantly obvious that you don’t want to be married to me?”

  Understanding dawned. “This is about what I said when you locked me out of the apartment.”

  “That little detail about not wanting to go to the courthouse to make it legal? Yes, Nick, this is about that.”

  “Well, I wasn’t about to get into our personal lives in front of Stella Porter! Since when do you even like her?”

  “That’s not the point! You had your chance and you blew it!”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” he stormed.

  “You’re being ridiculous!”

  He turned around, stalked toward the door, then turned back around and stalked over to me. “Do what you want. You always have and you always will. But just so you know, I’m sick of you making all the decisions.”

  “Well, guess what?” I glanced at the ceramic bowl again, itching to throw it. “I’m sick of you digging in your heels all the time.”

  “Push, push, push!”

  “Dig, dig, dig!”

  “Nothing’s ever enough for you,” he accused. “You’re supposed to love me. Not the basketball jock I used to be, not the lawyer I was supposed to be, not my dad, not my mom, not the neat, constipated little life you decided we need to have…Me.”

  “I do love you!” I yelled. “Or I did, anyway, until you decided we didn’t need to be married anymore.”

  And then he broke out the oldest, nerve-splittingest line in the history of men: “Marriage is just a piece of paper.”

  His eyes widened when he saw my face, and he took a step back toward the door. “Okay, what I meant was—”

  “This is not about a piece of paper,” I strangled out. “This is about you and me.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “And if you loved me enough, you’d have no problem committing to me. You’d give me a ring, you’d give me your heart, and you wouldn’t make me beg for it.”

  “If you loved me enough, you wouldn’t demand everything before I was ready to give it to you,” he countered.

  “Three years,” I reminded him. “Long time.”

  “Second date.” He crossed his arms. “You started talking about names for our future children.”

  I wrenched off my ring and threw it at him. It hit his jacket and bounced onto the black rubber mat by the door. “Get out.”

  “Casey, wait. I’m sorry.”

  “Too late.” I headed over to the door and yanked it open. As I did, I noticed a pedestrian strolling toward the store, and I panicked. The last thing I needed was the Alden rumor mill cranking out reports about Casey Nestor brawling with her perfect husband in broad daylight.

  “Can’t we work this out like adults?” Nick asked.

  I could barely hear him. “Nope. We’re through. End of discussion.”

  “Can’t we even—”

  “Fine! Use the back door, then!” I lunged behind him and propelled him past the display cases, through the back room, and out the back door into the alley.

  He didn’t dig in his heels this time. He let me shove him out and slam the door behind him.

  Good, I told myself, dusting off my hands as I headed back through the shelves of kitty litter and Nylabones. Out with the old and on with my life. Stella and Erin were right; we weren’t in high school anymore. This social outcast deserved better.

  The door chimes jangled again, and I heard a familiar voice call, “Casey?”

  “Coming!” I slapped on a smile and headed out to say hello to my sister.

  “Hey.” Tanya didn’t come all the way through the door; she just poked her head in. “You got a second?”

  “Of course.” I beckoned her in. “Come in, come in, you’ll turn into a Popsicle.”

  She edged inside, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. Her long blonde hair fanned down to cover half her face. “How are you, Case?”

  “Great,” I lied. “How about you? What happened with Brett?”

  “Oh fine. We made up. Everything I said on the phone the other night—forget that. We’re fine now. Better than ever.”

  I nodded and kept my editorial comments to myself. “How are the boys?”

  She laughed. “The usual. Driving me crazy. Getting into trouble every chance they get.”

  “Bring them by sometime,” I offered. “I’d love to take them to the movies or something.”

  “They’d like that.”

  We smiled at each other until the silence turned awkward.

  “So, um.” I drummed my fingernails on the counter. “What else is going on?”

  “Not much. The store’s slow, so the manager told me to take off early, and since the boys are still in school, I thought I’d stop by. Haven’t seen you much since the wedding.”

  “I know.” I shrugged helplessly to indicate circumstances beyond my control. “We’ve been so busy.”

  “Getting settled.” She stared at the floor. “I know how it is.” In her tennis shoes, baggy pants and blue smock from her cashie
r’s job at the supermarket, Tanya bore no resemblance to the bold, brassy bad girl she’d been in high school. She looked…exhausted, really. Exhausted and rail thin.

  “I’m starving,” I said. “Do you want to go grab some lunch?”

  “Oh no, I didn’t want to put you out, Case. I just wanted to catch up for a few minutes. See how you’re adjusting to married life.” Her smile was a little wider this time. “You and Nick are so cute together. And you had such a beautiful wedding.”

  Regret stabbed through my heart. “It would have been even more beautiful if you’d been my maid of honor.”

  Her smile vanished. “Naw, but it was nice of you to ask.”

  “I wish you’d said yes.”

  “Oh, you know I couldn’t get time off work to do all those fun, bachelorette things. Hell, I couldn’t even make it to your shower.” She looked away. I strongly suspected that she hadn’t felt comfortable facing down the catty soccer mom coven at Nick’s mother’s house. And she’d been right—she wouldn’t have fit in. But I should have encouraged her to go, anyway, instead of accepting her refusal with a secret and shameful relief that she wouldn’t be there to remind the Keatings who I really was and where I came from.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Danni was a horrible maid of honor.”

  Tanya grinned. “She’s always been a jealous little bitch—she can’t stand that you got married before her. But why would that make me feel better?”

  Because I’ve been a horrible sister to you and I pretend our family doesn’t exist. “You’ll be maid of honor at my next wedding, okay?”

  “Knock it off. You and Nick’ll be together forever. You’re the Nestor girl that made good.”

  “Yeah. How about that. Let’s get lunch, okay?”

  She was tempted, I could tell, but she’d gotten into the habit of denying herself even the smallest indulgences. Her indecision made me ache for the wild, carefree girl she used to be. “Come on, Tanya, my treat.”

  “Well, I guess I could go for a burger.”

  “Screw that. I’m taking you to the White Birch.”

  “The White Birch?” She paled. “Oh no, that’s too fancy. I’m not dressed.”

  “It’s lunch,” I assured her. “Casual.”

  “But…” She played with the ends of her hair. “Someone might see us.”

  “So what? We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “Uh-uh.” She seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack. “The White Birch is okay for you because you’re married to Nick Keating, but me…”

  “You’re my sister,” I said gently. “You deserve the best. And so do I.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. We’re going, I’m buying, and you’re going to have a big juicy steak and a piece of pie.”

  “Chocolate cake,” she corrected.

  “But of course. Let me grab my coat and I’ll close up shop for an hour.”

  I was halfway across the room when she squinted at the floor and picked up the ring I’d thrown at Nick. “Casey?”

  I kept walking. “Yes?”

  “What’s this?”

  “We’ll talk,” I promised. “At the White Birch.”

  “Everyone’s staring at us,” Tanya whispered as the host showed us to a booth in the back of the restaurant.

  “No, they’re not.” I held my head high, daring anyone to look at my sister the wrong way.

  “Okay, then, everyone’s staring at me. This place is so snooty.”

  I slid into the booth and accepted the menu the host offered. “No one is staring,” I chided her. “Why would you say that?”

  She started rearranging the silverware at her place setting. “I don’t fit in here.”

  “Well, neither do I.”

  She ran her index finger over the tines of her fork. “Yeah, you do, Case. You’re a White Birch kind of woman now. And I…well, I’m the girl who slept with everyone else’s boyfriend in high school, and I always will be.”

  She knew. She knew I was ashamed of her, and worse than that, she thought she deserved it.

  “Hey. Listen.” I waited until she met my eyes. “Fuck ’em. Anyone who can’t see the amazing woman you grew up to be—they’re the one with the problem. Not you. You have nothing to apologize for.”

  She went back to tapping the fork tines.

  “Can you help it that you were born irresistible and good-looking?”

  One corner of her mouth tugged up. “No.”

  “That’s right. So let them be jealous and judgmental. We’re above that sort of thing. Now what do you want to eat?”

  She smoothed back her hair as the waiter approached. “Let’s start with dessert.”

  “Excellent idea. Two pieces of chocolate cake, please,” I said, before the server could even get his pen and pad out.

  “Okay.” She settled back against the rich leather upholstery, finally starting to relax. “So why was your engagement ring on the floor?”

  I brought her up to speed on the legal status of my marriage and the fights I’d had with Nick. “…but turns out, it’s all for the best, because I don’t even want to be married to him anymore.”

  She looked horrified. “Don’t say that!”

  I forked up a big bite of cake. “He doesn’t love me enough. No amount of compromise or counseling is going to change that.”

  “But you and Nick are meant to be. You have to get back together!”

  “Why?” I demanded. “Why do we have to?”

  “Because you…I mean, you put so much work into marrying him.”

  “Too much work.” I gave her a pointed look. “Marriage is supposed to be a partnership. I’m not going to be any guy’s doormat.”

  “But you…but he…” She gestured wildly. “You’re meant to be!”

  “I’m not going to settle, Tan, and neither should you. We’re the Nestor girls, damnit.”

  She made a face. “I wouldn’t brag about that.”

  “I would. Speaking of which, what are you doing for Christmas this year? I’d like to make dinner for you and the boys. It’s time I did something with my family, for a change.”

  21

  ERIN

  So you and Mark are going to give it another try?” I asked as Stella, Cash and I strolled down Fifth Street, enjoying an unusually warm December day. “Good for you.”

  “Yeah.” Stella paused to let Cash sniff a street sign pole. “He goes to the urologist on Monday.”

  “Well, best of luck. I really mean that.” I tucked my chin into my red knit scarf. “Hopefully, at least one of us can salvage her marriage from the smoldering wreckage.”

  Stella sighed. “David still hasn’t called?”

  “Oh, he’s called. Called, emailed, sent flowers to my office.” I stepped sideways to avoid the steady drip from the icicles melting on the awnings. “But he hasn’t kicked Renée out of our house, and that’s the only thing that matters.”

  “You seem pretty calm about that.”

  “I guess.” I exhaled slowly. “I don’t want to give up on us, but we can’t go on like this. Not to be all Dynasty about it, but he has to choose me or Renée, and right now, he’s choosing Renée. She couldn’t drive this wedge in between us if he wouldn’t let her.”

  Stella tugged Cash along as we crossed the street. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t decided. For now, I’m going to continue to take advantage of Casey’s hospitality, and I’ll call and get some specifics about the job offer in Boston. Just in case.”

  “You’re really thinking about moving back to Boston.” She whistled. “Does David know?”

  “No.”

  “He’s going to go ballistic.”

  I pulled out my ChapStick and reapplied. “Yeah, well, at least then he’d be showing me that he cared.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My friend Jonathan is coming out this weekend to talk about the whole thing. His girlfriend, Simone, has a condo in the city, and she
’s going to do an endocrinology rotation at UCLA for a few weeks, so I could house-sit for her while I look for my own place.”

  Stella squinted at me through the bright afternoon sun, taking in the set of my jaw. “Look at you. So cool and rational.”

  That was me—good old type A plus. Never a moment’s doubt. Always on the ball.

  Now if only I could stop waking up at three a.m. to sob uncontrollably while flipping through our wedding photographer’s proofs.

  I gazed at the wreaths and garlands and twinkling white lights adorning all the storefronts. “It’ll be good to get back to the city and start working crazy hours again. Holidays are hard, especially with my family over on the West Coast.” I sucked in a lungful of cold, damp mountain air. “But I’ll volunteer to be on call for Christmas, and that’ll keep me busy.”

  Stella placed her mittened hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay to be sad, Erin.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not healthy to just work all the time instead of feeling your feelings.”

  “I am feeling my feelings.” At three a.m. “I’m excited to get back to the hospital, that’s all. If I move back to Boston, I mean. Which still isn’t for sure.”

  “Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t patronize me. I patronize you, not the other way around, remember?”

  “Whatever. Anyway, Mark and I are going away for Christmas. After what happened at Thanksgiving, we thought we were better off leaving town.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Stella grinned. “Belize. We’re renting a little bungalow on the beach. I’m packing my bikini and a ton of sunscreen, and that’s it. I’m just going to lay out on the sand and read and make out with Mark all day.”

  “Mmm. Sounds heavenly.”

  “And who knows? If everything goes well with this urologist, maybe I’ll even bring back a little souvenir.”

  I had serious doubts about Mark’s vasectomy reversal, both as a physician and as a friend, but I kept these to myself. “Do you think Cash will be good with a baby?”

  “Probably—he likes kids. Little girls, especially. Even Mark finally admitted he’s a sweet dog.” Stella laughed, and I tried to be happy for her—genuinely happy—and fight through the sour aftertaste tainting my thoughts. Why didn’t my husband (well, faux husband) love me enough to rearrange his life priorities? Why couldn’t I get a happily ever after with a big red bow on it? Maybe you had to have fairy-tale-princess looks to get the fairy-tale-princess life. Hmph.