by Scott, Lisa
Nick cleared his throat. “I asked the owner inside if your dad could sell some of his hats here. She said sure, bring ‘em on down.”
“Thanks. That was really nice of you.” That was so like him. He was always thinking of other people, looking for ways to make someone smile, or help someone out.
Except brides-to-be.
“Want some of my strawberry sundae?” he offered.
She took a lick of her cone. “No, thanks.”
A bird landed near the picnic table next to them, poking around for crumbs. “Look, kids, it’s a Black Tern.”
“It looks like a crow,” Heather said.
He frowned at her; that’s what she said about every bird when she wanted to annoy him. Her trick still worked. Satisfied, she popped the last of her cone in her mouth.
“My ice cream fell!” Nick’s nephew sobbed after the wobbly top scoop on his cone toppled to the ground.
“We can get you another one, buddy.” Nick pulled a napkin from his pocket to dry the boy’s chubby cheeks. But he continued crying. Nick fixed him with a stare. “Do I need to turn that frown upside down?”
The charming little boy tried to hide his giggles. “Maybe.”
Nick made a big show of setting aside his sundae, standing up and picking up the boy. Then Nick held him upside down while he laughed and shrieked. Shells and tiny army men fell from his pockets. Soon, Nick had a line of pouting children who all needed their frowns turned upside down, too.
Heather couldn’t help but laugh. He really was great with kids. He’d be a great dad someday. Of course, she’d thought that last year, too.
After they drove home and ushered the kids off to their appropriate homes with squealing protests against such an early, unfair bedtime, Nick walked Heather home. “I left my Port-A-Party hat there. Don’t want your dad to feel bad. And I need to tell him about Scoopy’s.”
“Thanks. I know the mockability factor is high here. But hopefully he’ll sell a few tomorrow.”
“No problem. I appreciate your father’s enthusiasm. He never gives up. Gotta like that in a man. He goes after what he wants.” He looked at her, waiting for a reaction.
But she ignored the comment, and walked quickly to the house.
Their parents were sitting on the back deck when they returned. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” her mother said.
“What’s up?”
“Emily lost Mr. Boo. That’s her favorite stuffed kitty. You know, the raggedy purple one? She can’t sleep without him, and she’s pretty sure he’s down on the beach, somewhere in between our houses.” Mom swooped her hand through the air, indicating the general direction of the missing cat. “Can you and Nick go look for it?”
“Of course,” he said, heading for the beach without question.
Heather narrowed an eye.
Pressing her hand against her chest, her mother shrugged. “What? There’s a nice full moon. You should be able to see really well.” Oh, her mother could really play the innocent. But it’s possible Emily really did lose it. When Meow-Meow disappeared, she was inconsolable for days until Heather showed up with Kitty Blue. Then he got left at a rest stop. That’s when Mr. Boo came along.
“We’ll do our best to find it.” Heather tromped off down to the beach.
“If you had a flashlight in your Port-A-Party you’d be all set!” Dad hollered after her. “I’ll have to add that to the demonstration.”
Nick was walking along the shore, and since it was low tide, he was a ways out. She jogged up to him. “Any luck?”
“Nope. I hope it didn’t get dragged out into the ocean.” He squinted, as if he might be able to spot it bobbing on the waves.
She kicked a pebble along the beach. “I have a feeling it’s not actually lost.”
He scrunched his eyebrows together. “What?”
With a huge sigh, she crossed her arms. “Our parents are totally meddling, trying to get us back together.”
“Sounds like something they’d do.” He bent down and picked up something. “You still collect these?” He handed her a sand dollar.
Heather’s heart ticked up a notch. She’d been a beachcomber since she was a kid, and Nick always indulged her hobby by tagging along for long walks along the shore looking for shells or bits of sea glass and pointing out the calls of different birds, that, frankly, all sounded the same to her, but apparently were quite different.
Their fingers brushed as she took the sand dollar from him. “Thanks,” she whispered. Nick had proposed to her on the beach two years ago while they watched the sun set. He’d pretended he’d found the ring inside an oyster shell he’d plucked from the sand. Her friends had declared it the most romantic proposal ever.
She slid the sand dollar into her pocket. They walked along in silence, and she figured he was busy remembering that night, too. He’d been nearly as excited about the wedding as she was. He’d been involved in all the planning, helping to pick out the centerpieces and favors. It was his idea to send out save-the-date magnets and set up a wedding website.
Those damn birds must have meant a lot if he was willing to walk away from their future.
They walked along for half an hour, catching up on the last year. Heather felt some of the anger fade away. You don’t just love someone and turn it off like a switch. And her switch was still flicked in the on position.
But that didn’t mean they could work things out. She’d been mad enough at him that she hooked up with one of his groomsmen on the day they were supposed to get married. Max had called her, wondering how she was doing. He asked her out for a drink, and that led to a whole lot of trouble and tremendous regret. She hadn’t felt better. Not at all.
Max probably hadn’t told Nick, and she sure as hell didn’t want to. At the time of course, she thought about ringing him up with the news, but she’d been too drunk to dial the phone—and he’d been on an island in the Atlantic that probably got spotty cell coverage. In the end, it had left her feeling worse, and rubbing Nick’s nose in it wouldn’t have helped.
Nick stopped walking and sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to find Mr. Boo.”
“I didn’t think we would. Let’s head back,” Heather said. It was strange to be so close to him and not hold his hand. How do you just wipe someone you love from your life? It’d been a year now and she hadn’t figured it out.
***
They went back to the house and Heather’s mom was alone, sitting in front of the fire pit. She waved and smiled. “Good news, they found Mr. Boo. He was hiding under the covers.” She turned up her hands, like who knew?
Heather nodded. “Imagine that.”
“I’m heading off to bed. Big day tomorrow selling hats down at the beach. Would you two mind staying out here until the fire dies down? I don’t want to leave it while it’s still burning, but I’m beat.” She walked away before they could answer.
Heather closed her eyes and blew out her breath. “They’re up to no good.”
I think it’s good, he thought.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m fine.” Heather tucked her legs under her as she settled on an Adirondack chair.
He sat down across from her, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “I want to. Is that okay?”
She shrugged, but she didn’t say no.
The fire cracked and popped as they sat in silence. Their first kiss had been in front of a campfire at Camp Bramblewood. He grinned, remembering how awful it had been at first when he missed her mouth—aiming a bit high—but then how wonderful it had been on his next try. And each and every time after that. When he looked up, she was smiling, too.
They got caught in each other’s gaze, but she quickly looked away.
“Camp Bramblewood,” he said, poking the ashes with a stick.
She closed her eyes and nodded. A tear slid down her cheek, and he moved next to her. “Hey. I’m sorry, Heather. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. I thought…” She blew out a breath.
The tightness in his chest loosened. If she could go from hating him earlier that day to tolerating him by the end of the day, maybe—if he were the luckiest guy alive—she’d give him another chance. And he figured he could get a little help with that plan.
But he wasn’t going to push it. Yet. The fire died out, but his feelings for her hadn’t. They were stronger than ever. He stood up. He wanted more than anything to take her in his arms and just hold her. But he took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad we ended up on the same beach this summer, Heather.”
“It was nice for everyone to see each other again.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He couldn’t help but smile knowing he’d see her the very next day after a year without her.
She looked up at him and nodded. “See you tomorrow.”
And that was a start. But he walked away, wondering what she’d do if she found out he’d called off the wedding because he’d never slept with another woman. Because he was too scared to settle down with the only girlfriend he’d ever had. Would she ever forgive him for that? Thing was, the girl had seriously good aim. He’d have to make sure she was empty-handed when he told her. If he told her at all.
***
Heather was already down on the beach wearing her hat when he got up the next morning. He could see her all the way from his deck.
He slid on his cap, too, and knocked on his brother’s bedroom door. “Can I borrow the kids today?”
“Dude, you can borrow the kids for the summer if you’d like.” His brother, Dennis, doused his five-year-old twins with sunscreen and bug spray, ordered them to make a potty-run, packed extra clothes, a cooler of drinks and goodies, and then slapped on their Port-A-Party hats. Twenty minutes later, he finally said, “Have fun and listen to Uncle Nick today.”
“We will,” they said, in the conspiratorial, singsong way only twins could pull off.
Nick gathered beach chairs and an umbrella and led them down to the beach. “Let’s make the biggest, best sandcastle ever today. But we need Heather’s help.”
“Doesn’t she hate you?” Kelsey asked.
Nick frowned. “I’m working on that.”
She shrugged. “Okay. I’ll help. For five dollars.”
Ethan held out his hand. “Ten for me, please.”
It was boys against girls for the Best Sandcastle Ever competition. Heather and Kelsey were covering their castle with tiny shells, while Nick and Ethan were going for size. Wasn’t that always the way with men, though? Winners got bragging rights and ice cream later that night. They passed out ballots to people walking by and planned on tallying up the results at the end of the day.
“We need a prince and princess for our castle, Heather,” Kelsey informed her.
Heather frowned. “Just find a crab. That’s even better than a dumb old prince.”
Nick knew better than to argue. By the end of the day, they’d sold six Port-A-Party hats, so hopefully, Heather would give him some points for that.
In the end, the girls won, but Nick and Heather told the kids it was a tie. By that time, the tide was creeping out and would soon wash away their creations.
“Let’s get them out of here before they see these destroyed,” Heather said, looking sad that their hard work would soon be just a memory.
“Yeah.” With a sense of loss hanging in the air, he reached for her hand, wanting to comfort her. He pulled back. “Sorry. I just forgot.”
The ocean breeze tousled her long, dark, hair, and she brushed it off her face. “I know what you mean.”
They gathered up their beach gear, along with two kids who needed food and a nap, and headed back for Nick’s rental. Hopefully, dinner was almost done. The cookout was planned for their place this time.
But the house was empty, except for his brother. “We’re meeting everyone up at The Shoreside for dinner in fifteen minutes. Everyone already left to walk over.”
“Why didn’t anyone come and get us?” Nick asked.
Dennis shrugged. “I’m gonna get the kiddos changed. I’ll meet you over there.”
“Guess I better go take a shower,” Heather said, running her hand through her hair. “I’ll see you guys there.”
Half an hour later, Nick stood in the restaurant waiting for Heather. Had he gotten the wrong place? Their families weren’t there. Had Dennis been mistaken? He scanned the room one more time, but there was no missing a group their size.
Heather walked through the door in a yellow sundress, with her hair pulled up in a twist, revealing the long, lovely neck he’d love to kiss. The long, lovely neck that could have been his forever. God damn fool, is what you are, he thought.
Her eyes scanned the tables in the dining room, then she looked at him, confused. “Where is everyone?”
He shrugged. “They’re not here. I’ve been waiting for someone to show up. Maybe I heard Dennis wrong.”
“No, I heard him say this place, too.” She approached the hostess. “Is there a reservation for either the Parkers or the Hicks?”
She scanned the list and her finger tapped the clipboard. “Yes, Nicholas Hicks, table for two 6:30. You’re right on time. Follow me, please.”
Heather looked confused, then she pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “I wonder whose idea this was.”
“I don’t care. I’m starving, let’s go eat.” Whoever it was would be getting a big hug from him.
Heather ordered the grouper, so he ordered the lobster tails, one of her favorites. When their food arrived, he slid one onto her plate.
She stared at it for a moment and then looked at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I was surprised you didn’t order it.”
“Moving on to new things, that’s all.” She took a bite of the lobster. “Good stuff.” She pushed the rest of it around on her plate, but didn’t eat anymore. She looked up at him. “So, how was the research trip? Really. I want to know.”
He set down his fork and drank nearly half his beer. Now was the time to tell her. If he had any chance of getting back with her, he had to get this out in the open first. And maybe it would be easier in a public place with witnesses. “I didn’t go on the research trip.”
She blinked at him. Then her mouth quirked into a grin and she started laughing. It was a strained, almost painful laugh. “Of course you did. That’s why you called off the wedding.”
He took a deep breath. “I applied for the research grant, but I didn’t get it. However, it seemed like a good excuse to call off the wedding.”
She set down her fork. “Then what was the real reason?”
He didn’t know her voice could sound so quiet and sad. When he’d told her he was calling it off, she’d been quite a bit louder. And angrier. Now she sat there biting her lower lip, her fingers laced in front of her on the table, her eyes, glassy.
He sighed and looked at the ceiling—anywhere but those eyes. “Heather, I had two girlfriends before you during sophomore year in high school, and those relationships weren’t serious. Not at all. It’s always been you and me.”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed.
“And when I saw how close our families were and how comfortable we all were, I panicked. I thought I was just rolling along with the flow, doing what was expected of me.”
Her hands curled up into fists. “Getting married to me. Like it was an obligation.”
He shrugged. “The idea occurred to me. When the guys were teasing me about being with the same woman for the rest of my life, I thought to myself, ‘I’ve never even been with another woman. And I never will if I get married.’”
She slapped the table and narrowed her eyes. “You broke off our wedding because you wanted to sleep with other women?”
He grimaced and nodded. “But I didn’t, even after all that. I haven’t been with anyone else, Heather.”
She scoffed. “Right. You haven’t dated anyone in a year?”
“No, I’ve gone on dates. I l
ived in Portland for the three months I was supposed to be on Eastern Egg Rock for the study and dated a few women there. But I could never get further than a kiss. Every time I opened my eyes, I expected to see you there.” He took a deep breath. “But I didn’t sleep with anyone.”
“Well, you know what?” She stood up and threw her napkin on the table. “I did.” Arching an eyebrow, she crossed her arms. “Max. Your groomsman.”
His stomach did a free fall. “What? When?”
“On our wedding day.” Then she turned and stalked out of the restaurant.
***
Heather’s heart felt like it might tumble out of her chest. She hadn’t realized it was going to hurt so much telling him that. She’d said it out of spite, of course. He’d ditched her to sleep with other women—and then couldn’t go through with it? He’d ruined everything—for nothing? She clenched her fists and swallowed a scream.
She took her heels off and walked down the beach, wanting nothing more than to go home and cry. She hoped to sneak inside the house, but people were still sitting around the fire pit.
“Uh-oh, she’s alone,” someone said.
“How was dinner?” her mom asked, the light from the fire illuminating her face.
Nick’s mother stood up, craning her neck. “Where’s Nick?”
Heather stopped walking and put her hands on her hips, a shoe in each hand. “Stop trying to get us back together. All of you. It’s not going to happen. It’s just not.” Then the tears came, full-force, as she realized the truth of her own words. He wouldn’t ever forgive her. They wouldn’t ever get back together, even though the idea continued tiptoeing through her mind. She shook her head, like she might be able to knock the idea out of there, and ran off to her bedroom.
An hour later she was staring at the ceiling fan turning round and round, much like her mind kept spinning. She couldn’t sleep, hoping and praying Nick would come by to talk things out.
But he didn’t.
***
She spent the next day inside reading one of the books she’d brought, but never getting past the second chapter, and constantly forgetting the main character’s names.