Nicholas Sparks

by At First Sight (v5)

  “What’s really going on?” Alvin asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You . . . all this. Every time I talk to you, you seem more depressed.”

  “Just busy,” Jeremy said, falling back on his standard answer. “There’s a lot going on.”

  “Yeah, so you’ve told me. The repairs are bleeding you dry, you’re getting married, you’re going to have a baby. But you’ve been under pressure before, and you’ve got to admit your life isn’t as stressful as when you and Maria were getting divorced. But unlike now, then you still had a sense of humor.”

  “I still have a sense of humor. If I wasn’t able to laugh at this stuff, I’d probably curl up in a little ball and mumble nonsense all day long.”

  “Are you writing yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe you should work naked and have Jed hold your clothes for you while you work.”

  For the first time, Jeremy laughed. “Oh, that would work well. I’m sure Jed would just love that.”

  “And the upside is, you know he wouldn’t tell anyone. Since he doesn’t talk, I mean.”

  “No, he talks.”

  “He does?”

  “According to Lexie, he does. He just doesn’t talk to me or you.”

  Alvin laughed. “You getting used to all the crazy animals in your room yet?”

  Jeremy realized he barely noticed them anymore. “Believe it or not, I am.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

  “To be honest, neither do I.”

  “Well, listen, I’ve got someone here, and I’m not being a good host, so I should let you go. Give me a call later this weekend. Or I’ll call you.”

  “Sounds good,” Jeremy said, and a moment later he hung up the phone. Staring at the computer, he shook his head. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Just as he was rising from his desk, the phone rang again. Expecting Alvin had forgotten to tell him something, he answered, “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Jeremy,” Lexie said. “That’s a funny way to answer the phone.”

  “Sorry. I just hung up with Alvin and thought he was calling back. What’s up?”

  “I hate to do this to you, but I’m going to have to cancel our dinner tonight. Let’s do it tomorrow, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, it’s Doris. We’re heading to her place, but she’s still upset and I should probably stay for a while.”

  “Do you want me to come by? I can bring some dinner with me.”

  “No, that’s okay. Doris has plenty of food, and to be honest, I don’t know if she’s in the mood to eat. But with her heart troubles, I’d just feel better if I made sure she was okay.”

  “All right,” Jeremy said, “I understand.”

  “Are you sure? I feel bad about this.”

  “Really, it’s okay.”

  “I promise to make it up to you, though. Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even wear something skimpy while I cook dinner for you.”

  Despite his disappointment, Jeremy kept his voice steady. “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll give you a call later, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah,” Jeremy said, “I know.”

  Lexie was quiet on the other end, and it was only after hanging up that Jeremy realized he hadn’t said the words in return.

  Does trust have to be earned? Or is it simply a matter of faith?

  Hours later, Jeremy still wasn’t sure. No matter how many times he went over the questions, he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he stay at Greenleaf? Head to Lexie’s to wait for her? Or check to see if she was really at Doris’s?

  That’s what it came down to, he thought. Was she really there? He supposed he could come up with some sort of plausible excuse and call Doris to find out, but wouldn’t that mean he didn’t trust her? And if so, why on earth were they getting married?

  Because you love her, an inner voice answered.

  And he did, he admitted, but alone in his quiet room at Greenleaf, he couldn’t help but wonder whether or not it was blind love. In the years he’d been married to Maria, he’d never once been suspicious of her whereabouts, even toward the end of their relationship. He’d never called over to her parents to check to see if she was really there, seldom called her at work, and only rarely popped in unexpectedly. She’d never given him a reason to question her about anything, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember even considering it. But what did that mean when it came to him and Lexie?

  It seemed as if he had two views of her—one in which they spent time together and he chided himself for his paranoia; the other when they were apart and he allowed his imagination to run wild.

  But it wasn’t completely wild now, was it? He had seen Lexie and Rodney holding hands. When asked directly what she’d done that day, she hadn’t mentioned even seeing him. He had received a strange e-mail, one from someone who’d taken great pains to hide who he or she was. And when Doris was talking about Rachel, Lexie’s only question had been whether or not Rodney seemed angry.

  On the other hand, if she did have feelings for Rodney, why not just admit them? Why agree to marry Jeremy? Why buy a house and go shopping for the baby and spend almost every evening with Jeremy? Because of the baby? Lexie was traditional, Jeremy knew, but she didn’t have a 1950s mind-set. She’d lived with a boyfriend in New York, had a passionate fling with Mr. Renaissance . . . she wasn’t the type to throw away a life with the man she truly loved—assuming it was Rodney—for the sake of a baby. Which meant, of course, that she loved Jeremy, just as she’d told him on the phone. Just as she told him every time they were together. Just as she whispered when they were entwined in each other’s arms.

  There was no reason not to believe her, he decided. None at all. She was his fiancée, and if she said she was at Doris’s, then that’s where she was. End of story, except for one thing: He somehow doubted she was there.

  Outside, the sky had turned to black, and from his seat he could see the limbs of trees swaying gently in the breeze. New spring leaves covered the once barren branches, and they glowed silver in the light of the crescent moon.

  He should stay here and wait for her call, he thought. They were getting married, and he trusted her. How many times since seeing Lexie and Rodney together had he checked on her, only to feel foolish when he spotted her car at the library? Half a dozen? A dozen? Why would tonight be any different?

  It wouldn’t be, he told himself, even as he reached for his keys. Like a moth drawn to light, he seemed to have no other choice, and he continued to chide himself as he slipped out the door and crawled behind the wheel of his car.

  The night was quiet and dark; downtown was deserted, and in the shadows, Herbs seemed oddly forbidding. He passed by without slowing and headed toward Doris’s, knowing that he’d find her there. When he saw Doris’s car parked in the driveway, he sighed, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. Until that instant, he’d forgotten that he’d simply left Lexie at Herbs without a car in which to get around, and he nearly laughed aloud.

  Okay, he thought, that was settled, and he began making his way to Lexie’s, thinking he would wait for her there. When she got home, he’d be supportive and quiet, listen to her worries, and make her a cup of hot chocolate if she wanted one. He’d made way too much out of nothing.

  Yet when he turned onto Lexie’s street and saw her house up the block, he found himself feeling instinctively for the brake pedal. Slowing the car and leaning nearer to the windshield, he blinked to make sure he was seeing things right, then suddenly squeezed the steering wheel hard.

  Her car wasn’t in the drive, nor were the lights on. He slammed on the brakes and turned his car around, not caring about the screech that sounded from his tires. After gunning the engine and careening around the corner, he sped through town, knowing exactly where she was. If she was not at the
library or Greenleaf, not at Doris’s or Herbs, there was only one place she could be.

  And he was right, for when he pulled onto the street where Rodney Harper lived, he saw her car parked in the drive.

  Eight

  Jeremy waited on the porch at Lexie’s house.

  He had the key, he could have gone inside, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to sit on the step outside. Or, rather, seethe on the step outside. It was one thing to talk to Rodney, it was completely another to lie about it. And she had lied. She’d broken their dinner date, she’d called him on the phone and lied about her whereabouts. Lied to him directly.

  He watched for her car, his jaw tight.

  He really didn’t care what her excuse was. There was no excuse for something like this. All she’d had to do was tell him that she wanted to talk to Rodney, that she was worried about him, and he would have been okay with that. Not thrilled, mind you, but okay. So why all the secrecy?

  This wasn’t the way things should be. This wasn’t the way she was supposed to treat him . . . or anyone she cared about, for that matter. And what if actions like these continued after they were married? Did he really want to spend his days wondering if she was really where she said she’d be?

  No, no way. Not a chance. That wasn’t what marriage was supposed to be, and he hadn’t moved down here, hadn’t given up everything, to be deceived. She either loved him or she didn’t; it was as simple as that. And blowing off dinner with him so she could spend time with Rodney made it seem pretty obvious how she felt.

  He didn’t care if they were friends, and he honestly didn’t care whether she thought she was just being supportive, either. All she’d had to do was tell the truth. That’s what this was about.

  As angry as he was, he had to admit he was hurt as well. He’d come down here to share a life with Lexie, he’d moved here because of her. Not because of the baby, not because he had dreams of settling into a life with white-picket fences, not because he’d harbored a secret belief in the romanticism of the South. He’d come here because he wanted her to be his wife.

  And now she was lying to him. Not once, but twice, and as he felt his stomach tighten, he was uncertain whether to punch the wall in anger or simply cry into his hands.

  He was still sitting on her steps when she arrived an hour later. As she got out of the car, she seemed surprised to see him but then walked toward him as if nothing were amiss.

  “Hey,” she said, flipping her purse over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

  Jeremy rose from his seat on his steps. “Just waiting,” he said. Glancing at his watch, he noted it was a few minutes before nine. Late, but not too late. . . .

  Though he made no move toward her—and she seemed to notice this—she leaned in to kiss him anyway. If she noticed his relative nonresponse, she gave no sign.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said.

  He looked at her; despite his anger (or his fear, if he was still being honest), she looked beautiful. The idea of someone else taking her in his arms was devastating.

  Sensing his roiling emotions, she tugged at his sleeve. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he answered.

  “You seem upset.”

  It was the perfect opportunity to say what was on his mind, but he found himself hedging. “Just tired,” he said. “How was Doris?”

  Lexie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Worried. Rachel still hasn’t called or checked in.”

  “And she still thinks something might have happened to her?”

  “I’m not sure. You know how Doris is. Once she gets something in her head, it tends to stick, and there’s never a logical explanation for it. I get the feeling that she thinks Rachel is . . . okay, for lack of a better word, but that the reason she left . . .” She shook her head again. “Actually, I don’t know what Doris is thinking. She just has the feeling that Rachel shouldn’t have left, and she’s really upset.”

  Jeremy nodded, even if he didn’t quite understand. “If she’s okay, then it’ll all work out, right?”

  Lexie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve given up trying to figure out the way Doris’s mind works. All I know is that she’s usually right. I’ve learned it time and time again.”

  Jeremy watched her, sensing she was telling the truth . . . about her time with Doris. She’d volunteered nothing about where she’d been afterward.

  He stood straighter. “I take it that you spent the whole evening with Doris, huh?”

  “Pretty much,” she answered.

  “Pretty much?”

  Jeremy sensed that she was trying to gauge how much he knew.

  “Yeah,” she finally said.

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  Lexie didn’t answer.

  “I swung by Doris’s this evening,” he challenged, “but you weren’t there.”

  “You went to Doris’s?”

  “Here too,” he added.

  Taking a small step backward, she crossed her arms. “Were you checking up on me?”

  “Call it what you want,” Jeremy said, trying to stay calm. “But either way, you haven’t told me the truth.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Where were you tonight? After you left Doris’s?”

  “I came here,” she said.

  “And before that?” Jeremy asked, hoping she would volunteer the information, praying she would be honest, feeling the pit in his stomach grow.

  “You were checking on me, weren’t you.”

  Perhaps it was the righteousness in her tone that caused his temper to flare. “This isn’t about me!” Jeremy snapped. “Just answer the question!”

  “Why are you yelling?” she asked. “I told you where I was.”

  “No, you didn’t!” Jeremy shouted. “You told me where you were before you went somewhere else. You went someplace else after you left Doris’s, didn’t you?”

  “Why are you yelling at me?” Lexie demanded, her own voice rising. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “You went to Rodney’s!” Jeremy shouted.

  “What?”

  “You heard me!” he said. “You went to Rodney’s! I saw you there!”

  Lexie took another step backward. “You followed me?”

  “No,” he snapped, “I didn’t follow you. I went to Doris’s, then here, and then went looking for you. And guess what I found?”

  She paused, as if trying to decide how best to respond. “It’s not what you think,” she protested, her voice softer than he’d expected.

  “And what do I think?” Jeremy demanded. “That my fiancée shouldn’t be at another man’s house? That maybe she should have told me where she was going? That if she trusted me, she would have said something? That if she cared about me, she wouldn’t have broken our dinner date to spend time with another man?”

  “This isn’t about you!” she said. “And I didn’t break our date. I asked if we could do it tomorrow and you said it would be fine!”

  Jeremy inched closer. “This isn’t just about the dinner, Lexie. This is about the fact that you went to another man’s house tonight.”

  Lexie stood her ground. “And what? Do you think I slept with Rodney? Do you think we spent the last hour making out on the couch? We talked, Jeremy! That’s all we did. Just talked! Doris was getting tired, and before I went home, I wanted to know if Rodney could tell me what was going on. So I stopped by, and all we did was talk about Rachel.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “I would have! And you wouldn’t have even had to ask. I would have told you where I went. I don’t keep secrets from you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Oh no? What about that day at the boardwalk?”

  “What day at the boardwalk?”

  “Last month when I saw you holding Rodney’s hand.”

  She stared at him as if she had never seen him before. “How long have you been spying on me?”

  “I haven’t been spying! But I di
d see you holding his hand.”

  She continued to stare at him. “Who are you?” she finally asked.

  “Your fiancé,” Jeremy said, his voice continuing to rise, “and I think I deserve an explanation. First, I find you two holding hands, then I find out that you’re breaking our dates to spend time with him—”

  “Shut up!” she shouted. “Just be quiet and listen.”

  “I’m trying to listen!” he shouted back. “But you’re not telling me the truth! You’ve been lying to me!”

  “No, I haven’t!”

  “No? Then why not tell me about your little hand-holding adventure!”

  “I’m trying to tell you that you’re making this into something it isn’t—”

  “Oh, really?” he snarled, cutting her off. “And what if you had caught me holding hands with an ex-girlfriend and found out that I was sneaking away to spend time with her?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking away!” Lexie said, throwing up her hands. “I told you . . . I stayed with Doris almost all night, but I still wasn’t sure what was going on. I was worried about Rachel, so I stopped by Rodney’s to find out if he knew anything.”

  “After holding his hand, of course.”

  Lexie’s eyes flashed, but as she spoke he could hear her voice beginning to break. “No,” she said, “I didn’t. We sat on the porch out back and talked. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

  “Maybe enough to admit that you were lying!”

  “I wasn’t lying!”

  He stared at her, his voice taking on a hard edge. “You lied, and you know it.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “That’s bad enough, but that isn’t the only thing that hurts. What hurts worse is that you keep trying to deny it.”

  With that, he stepped off the porch and strode to his car, not bothering to look behind him.

  Jeremy sped blindly through town, not knowing what to do. He knew he didn’t want to go back to Greenleaf, nor could he imagine heading to the Lookilu Tavern, the only bar still open in town. Though he’d stopped in once or twice, he had no desire to spend the rest of the evening seated at the bar, simply because he knew the ruckus it would cause. If he’d learned one thing about small towns, it was that news traveled fast, especially bad news, and he had no desire to have anyone else in town start speculating about him and Lexie. Instead, he simply drove through town, making a big circuit, without any destination in mind. Boone Creek was not New York City—there was no place to go if one wanted to vanish into a crowd. There were no crowds.