She shuts the door to the shop, closing us inside.
Though it’s been four months or so, it seems like it was yesterday that Mac’s dad told her to do some soul searching. I’ve missed her living on my couch, and the pure entertainment in watching her and Colton trying to decide if they even liked each other.
“Yes, life is good, actually. Who knew my dad was such a sage, old man?”
“It’s not weird being with Colton and working together?”
“No, it’s nice, actually.” She points to the chair by the window for me to sit. “I get to see him every day, but he still gets ‘Casey time’ when he has her at his place. Things are pretty perfect, for now.” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against her desk. “But you didn’t come here to talk to me about Colton. So, spill. What’s brought you onto my turf?” She puts her palm up. “And before you ask me, I will not move back in with you. I can’t handle your snoring.”
“I don’t snore. You do.”
Mac laughs. “Fine, a soft, dainty snore, sometimes. I’ll grant you that. But still, I know you miss me, and as much as I love you, I’m happy to be on my own, thank you very much.”
I shake my head with a mock sigh. “You really are a dream crusher.”
“That’s what’s on my name tag,” she mutters and nods to the two chairs again in the pseudo-waiting area by the large window. “Now, sit.”
Frowning, I glance from her to the chair. “That feels too much like a therapy session. I have my mom for that.”
Mac chuckles softly. “And given your new project partner, a session or two would be a bad thing?”
“Sam told you, huh?”
“And Colton told me Bethany was at your house,” she adds.
“Damn this town,” I grumble and take a seat. Something tells me this won’t be a quick in and out, so I might as well get comfortable.
Mac plops down in the other wingback chair with a euphoric groan. The leather creaks as she settles in. “Fine, suit yourself, but I’ve been running around like a madwoman all day. These heels are killing me.” She toes them off, and I recognize what she’s doing—giving me time to gather my thoughts and muster up the nerve to tell her whatever it is I’ve come to say. That’s what comes with twenty years of friendship, and I appreciate the hell out of her for it.
“I need help with her,” I blurt out. “With Bethany. I need help thinking this through.”
Mac leans back in her seat. “Hey, no judgement from me.” She eyes me, though, waiting for me to continue.
“She’s—we’re—” I don’t know where to start, exactly. “Ever since New Year’s, things have been complicated.”
Mac snorts. “Things’ve always been complicated between you.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“Sorry. That’s not helpful. Continue.” She clasps her hands together and sets them in her lap for dramatics.
“Fine then, more complicated than usual,” I revise. “Except, I realize now that everything that’s happened over the years is way more complicated than I thought—so many assumptions.”
“Oh?”
I nod. “The high school party, Denny’s, our run-ins over the years. I don’t even know what other stories she has in her mind that keep her at a distance all the time. She has so many walls,” I realize.
“Trying to get along, I get,” Mac says. “But, you seem very concerned with her letting you in all of the sudden.” She leans closer. “Which means you’ve invested something,” she says slowly, like she’s working out the kinks—filling in the holes. “You really like her all of the sudden—wait, did you guys kiss?”
When I don’t say anything, her eyes widen. “You kissed her?” I can’t tell if Mac is amused or horrified.
“Well, yeah. It sorta just happened. I stopped it, though, so it’s not like it went further than that.”
Mac squeezes her eyes shut. “Hold on a sec. You kissed her and then put a stop to it, and now you don’t understand why she’s putting up walls?”
I look at her dumbly. “Well, yeah. I guess.”
She chuckles again, more animated this time, like she knows a secret as she massages the bottom of her foot. “This is where guys and girls are clearly different. If I were at a guy’s house and he kissed me, then pushed me away, I’d put up a few walls, too. I’d likely take it personally and feel rejected, especially if he didn’t take the time to explain why he kissed me and then pushed me away.” Her eyes meet mine.
I want to tell Mac that I put more thought into my reaction, but the truth is, I didn’t. It was honest and it just came out the way it did, whatever it was I said.
When I don’t say anything, Mac leans forward, her gaze leveled on me. “Look, Nick, you said yourself, you have a history with Bethany. And, in reality, you barely know her. You need to be friends before you screw things up worse than they already are by jumping into something that could blow up in your face, permanently this time.” She pauses. “You need to trust each other so that you’re no longer operating on the misunderstandings of the past.”
She lets her words sink in for a minute, but I already know Mac’s right. It’s one of the downfalls of not having a sibling as a sounding board and always relying on my friends to talk me through everything. Getting out of my head helps me to see everything differently.
“This is what happened between Colton and me,” she continues. “You saw what a shit-show it was. We totally missed the friends-first step, and the first six-plus months we knew each other were based on assumptions, and bad ones, at that. I’m now one hundred percent pro friends-first. And I know you, your feelings for her aren’t going to fade until you’ve exhausted them. They’ve been percolating too long. So, you might as well embrace it, but just be smart. You’ve got the perfect opportunity with this whole project situation, especially if she’s trying to keep her distance. Take your time. Get to know each other. You owe it to yourself so that you can move the fuck on if it doesn’t work out in the end and you can say you actually tried.”
Mac’s right. Mac is always right about these things, just like she was right about Sam and Reilly needing each other again to move on with their lives. I won’t be able to let whatever exists between Bethany and me go until I know what it actually is.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asks.
“Try to be friends,” I say. “Make a grand gesture.” Though, I don’t even know where to start.
Twenty-Five
Bethany
I’m putting a fresh load of laundry in the washing machine, when I hear the doorbell. “Jesse, can you get that please!” I shout toward the living room. “It’s probably Mrs. Franklin, picking up the Goodwill from Mom.” I pour the detergent into the tray and listen as Jesse barrels down the stairs. “The bag is by the door!”
Slamming the washer shut, I press the digital timer and head back into the kitchen to wash my hands.
“Hey, kid.” Nick’s familiar voice carries in from the doorway, and my heart skips a beat.
“Hi,” Jesse replies, and I hear the door shut. “My sister’s in the kitchen.”
“Cool. Nice digs you guys got here.”
“It’s all right.” Jesse’s voice is so small compared to Nick’s, and I watch them in the foyer.
The fact that Nick is in my house is strange, and part of me wonders if I should be angry that he assumed he could show up uninvited, especially after what happened the other day. He knows I want to focus on this partnership. But another, bigger part of me is surprisingly grateful he came by. Especially after I had to cancel and didn’t think I was going to see him tonight.
“How’d you know where we lived?” Jesse asks as they step into the kitchen.
“A friend told me.”
My gaze meets his as I wipe my hands off on a towel.
He lifts three bags. “I come bearing gifts,” he says, sounding uncertain, even if his voice is light and his expression easy. “A peace offering for the other night,” he adds.
“You brought coffee the other day, so I figured I could bring some food since I’m crashing your movie night.”
I smile at the gesture. “Thank you.” I’ve been thinking about our kiss and the argument we had, nonstop, but no matter how I looked at it, things would remain awkward and complicated. Yet, here Nick is, somehow able to make all that uncertainty go away, for now.
His true Nick smile falls back into place. “I hope you like BLTs and cheeseburgers. I got both from Harley’s Diner on my way over. I wasn’t sure what you guys might want. I even got a salad, in case grease or meat aren’t really your thing.” He sets the bags on the island.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I tell him, and pull a handful of napkins from the cupboard.
“It’s not a problem. We need to eat, right? And since you had to babysit and couldn’t meet, I figured I’d come to you—talk about the project and stuff.” We stare at one another for a few breaths, what feels like an unspoken truce passing between us, then Jesse steps up beside Nick.
We both look down at him. With wide, excited eyes, Jesse glances from me to the bags that emanate the comforting scent of deliciously warm, fried foods.
Nick grins and pulls a couple of wrapped sandwiches out and sets them on the counter. “So, kid, what’ll it be?”
Jesse takes the cheeseburger without a second thought and greedily unwraps it.
“Then you’re definitely going to need some curly fries.” Nick scoots them closer as Jesse climbs onto a stool at the counter. “And if you’re at all like me, you like extra pickles on your cheeseburger”—Nick winks at me—“and lots of dipping sauce.” He pulls out a few BBQ, ranch, and honey mustard containers and sets them by the fries. “Super fancy, I know.”
“Ranch, please,” Jesse says and takes a bite of his burger, way too big to fit his mouth around.
Jesse loses himself to a mess of special sauce and cheese strings as Nick steps around the counter, closer to me. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I took a chance, hoping you were hungry, and we might still be able to get some work done, or at least . . . talk.”
“Talk?” I ask, fishing for a glimpse into the inner workings of Nick Turner’s brain.
“Yeah, or watch a movie or whatever.”
“Oh, you’re staying for a movie now, huh?”
Nick winks at me, then looks at Jesse and pulls two DVDs from a plastic bag. “Now, Jesse, you have a very important decision to make. Are we watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, a movie you’ve likely seen a hundred times, or are we branching out and watching The Goonies?” He holds both cases up for my brother to see.
Jesse’s eyes dart between them before he finally nods to The Goonies, sauce coloring the corners of his mouth.
With a hoot, Nick celebrates with a ridiculous dance in place, and I find it impossible not to be happy that he’s here.
“Here, J, wipe your mouth, would you?” I hand him a napkin. “Believe it or not, you still have to act polite in front of Nick; he’s still considered a guest, even if he did invite himself over.” I smile to soften the jab, while careful not to encourage Nick, but I know I’ve failed when he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Admit it,” he says, leaning in closer. “You’re glad to see me.”
“Ha! And why would I be glad?”
“Because, you’d be stuck cooking and wouldn’t get to watch The Goonies, a classic, remember?”
“If I admit it, are you going to do another jig in the middle of my kitchen?”
He shrugs. “Most likely.” He winks and peers into the food bags. “So, you fed the kid, now it’s your turn. What will it be, a salad, a cheeseburger, or a BLT?” He looks at me expectantly.
“Which one do you want?” I ask him, not wanting to take his favorite. I pull a few Squirts from the refrigerator and set them on the marble countertop, along with a few glasses, then slide one of each to Jesse.
Nick shakes his head. “Nope. I asked you first.”
“Well, it’s a hard choice. You see, I’m both a grease and a meat sort of girl. So . . . I think I’ll take the BLT.”
“Ooh, good choice. But their burgers are by far the best.” He points to Jesse’s messy face as proof, then slides the sandwich over to me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll share with you if you change your mind.” Popping a fry into his mouth, Nick glances at Jesse and settles onto one of the barstools. “So, what’s new with you, kid? Staying out of trouble at school?”
Jesse nods, fiddling with the corner of his cheeseburger wrapper.
I sit on the stool beside him and take a bite of my BLT. The bacon is perfect, the sourdough bread still warm in my mouth, and I groan. “This is so good.” I glance at Nick’s burger, then remember our pizza. “Why is it I always eat crap food when I’m with you?”
“What? BLTs are good for you—you have every food group. And pizza isn’t crap food, it’s a staple.”
“I’d like to see you try to convince mothers everywhere that’s true.”
Nick’s smile grows again. “Moms love me, you know. I might actually be able to.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Everyone loves you, it seems.” His eyes shift to mine. “You know what I mean.”
“So, quickly,” Nick says, swallowing, “before I decide I don’t want to do any work whatsoever tonight, where are we at with the furniture orders and delivery? The floors will be ready Friday.”
I swallow and wipe the crumbs from my mouth. “Well, I emailed Sam a bunch of links. As soon as she chooses, which she promised would be tomorrow since our deadline is creeping up on us, I can get the furniture ordered. The only issue is, delivery will likely be a week from then, give or take. So, I think we should go to Benton on Saturday and pick out the accents, like the rugs and wall pieces—essentially make it a mall day so we can get started on at least part of it. What do you think?”
“Other than I hate shopping?”
I nod.
“Sounds like a plan.” A pickle drops from his burger and he pops it into his mouth. “Anything else?”
Breaking off a wayward piece of bacon, I take a bite, then wipe up his pickle splatter with my napkin. I can’t help it, and when I feel his eyes on me, I look at him sheepishly. “Um, no, I don’t think so. Not right now. I figure once the hard stuff is decided, we can worry about putting the portfolio together. That won’t take much time, and I could really use this in-between-time to study for my GRE.”
“How’s that going, by the way?”
I shrug. “Slow going, but that’s expected. I just wish I wasn’t so stressed out about it.”
“I can see why you would be,” Nick says, balling up his wrapper and dropping it into the bag. Jesse watches him, though he’s still working on his burger, falling to pieces in his hands. “It’s a big deal.”
“It’s like every test has led up to this moment, and I feel like I should be more prepared, but I’m not. It just gets . . . frustrating.”
Nick dumps the rest of his fries out on a napkin and deposits the garbage in the compactor. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. “Do you have class?”
“Thursdays? No. I work at four, though. Jesse’s off this week for Spring Break, so we’ll likely run errands or something.” I stick the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth. “Why?” Part of me wants to be prim and proper while I’m stuffing my face, but it’s too good to care.
“I think I know how to help you with your exam,” he says thoughtfully. He glances around the counter, looking for something. When he finds a note pad and pen, he jots down an address and slides it over to me. “Meet me here tomorrow around ten or so. Bring Jesse.”
I reach over to their fry pile and snatch one for myself. “Why are you being so cryptic?”
“Because, if I tell you where you’re going, you won’t show up,” he admits, and I don’t like the sound of that. “Bethany, just trust me, okay? I want to help you, and I can. So, let me.”
“You should do it, Beth,” Jesse says.
“Are y
ou still on my side or his?” I ask playfully.
Jesse shrugs. “You’ve been stressing out for, like, ever.”
I pop another fry, drenched in barbeque sauce, into my mouth and eye Nick closely as I consider his offer. “Trust you, huh?”
He nods. “Yeah. Trust me.” His gaze is steady, sincere.
“Okay,” I finally say.
Jesse balls up what’s left of his cheeseburger, like Nick did, and he drops it in the remaining garbage bag. “Before you touch anything,” I tell him, “you better wash your hands, J. I’m serious.”
“I will,” he grumbles and walks toward the bathroom. I pop one last fry in my mouth with a guttural groan. “You’re right, these are pretty awesome.”
Nick winks. “Told ya.”
Unable to stand a messy counter, I pick up what’s left of the fries and the garbage and toss it into the trash. I wet the sponge and start wiping off the counter, all while Nick’s eyes are on me. I feel them. I always feel them. It used to make me uncomfortable in class, like he was judging me, but here, after all that’s transpired between us, it sends a tingle through me. “You’re staring again—you’re always staring.” I finally look at him.
“No, I’m thinking,” he clarifies and leans against the counter beside me.
“Oh yeah? Well, then, what are you thinking about?” I scoot the salt and pepper shakers out of the way and scrub the island harder.
Nick clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. “That I shouldn’t have kissed you the other night.”
My scrubbing falters before I remember myself and turn toward the sink. I wasn’t expecting him to say that.
“I don’t mean it like that, Bethany. Don’t take it personally. I just—I think I messed things up, especially with what happened after, and I want you to know that I’m sorry.”
With my back to him, it’s easy enough to shrug off everything that happened, like we’d simply chosen a subpar movie on Netflix last night, not that we’d shared a groping session. It was more than that to both of us, though, that much was clear.
Told You So_A Saratoga Falls Love Story Page 15