Author: Kristan Higgins

THERE WAS MORE. OH, YES. The fates weren’t done with me yet.

I called Digger and got into my car. Where I was going, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be out of the house. I stopped by Katie’s, but she and the boys had gone to the mall, according to her mom. I was still peeved at my own mother for instantly taking Trish’s side, so I didn’t want to go there. I looked at the car clock. It was half past two. High school was just letting out.

I knew Danny’s schedule pretty well. He had basketball practice today, if I was not mistaken.

I was not. I went into the gym and watched the boys until one of the kids pointed me out to Danny. My nephew hesitated, then said something to the coach and walked over, the ball tucked under his arm.

“Hi,” I said, trying for a light tone.

For the first time in his life, Danny wasn’t happy to see me, and it was like a knife in my chest. He stared at the floor, bouncing his basketball a few times. “What do you want, Millie?” he asked flatly.

My face attempted to scrunch up in crying formation, which I tried to convert by contorting my lips to a smile. “I just wanted to see you, see how you’re doing.”

“I don’t think I want to talk to you right now.”

I took a quick, sharp breath. “Oh.”

“What did you expect?” he said, glancing back at his team.

“I don’t know, Dan.” My voice cracked and Danny grew blurry as my eyes swam. He turned to rejoin the others, and I turned blindly toward the door.

“Aunt Mil, wait. Coach, I gotta take a break.” Danny’s voice was defeated as he loped over toward me. Without a word, we went outside and walked over to the split-rail fence that circled the parking lot.

“Mil, what do you want me to say? I mean, come on. How am I supposed to feel good about this?”

“Oh, Danny, I don’t know. Everything is going way too fast.”

He sat on the fence and hung his head. “Mom wants to get back together with Dad,” he said.

“I know. She told me.”

“You gonna mess that up?”

I looked at the ground. “I think…I think your parents’ marriage should sink or swim on its own, outside of anything I do.”

“Mom says she’s learned a lot, that she and Dad could be really happy together now that she knows what she had.”

There it was again. The new and improved Trish, Trish Mature. “What do you think, Danny?”

Danny sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes in a gesture that echoed Sam. “I don’t know, Aunt Mil. But this thing with you and Dad…I don’t know. That’s…I don’t know.”

I swallowed. “I, um, I really love your dad, Danny. I know it’s uncomfortable for you to hear it, but it’s the truth.”

He responded by peeling a shard of wood off the fence and meticulously splitting it.

“Danny, do you want your parents to get back together?”

He tossed the splinter on the ground and looked at me. “Shit, Millie, of course I do. Doesn’t every kid with divorced parents wish that? That Mommy and Daddy would kiss and make up and live happily ever after? I mean, if they could pull that off…sure. Of course I want that.”

“You told me they hadn’t been happy for a long time….”

“Well, what if this is their big chance? What if you’re messing that up?”

“I don’t know.” My throat thickened at the misery on Danny’s face.

We were silent for a minute, the only noise from the crows croaking in the trees. “Aunt Millie,” Danny began slowly, concentrating on peeling another slice of wood from the fence, “what if I asked you, as a favor to me?” He looked up, sadness and confusion making him look about six years old again.

“Asked me what exactly, Danny?” I wanted to push his hair out of his eyes, but I had a feeling those days were gone.

“Asked you to step aside and leave my dad alone. For me. To give me the chance to have parents who were happy together. Would you do it?”

My heart sat like a cold stone in my chest as I regarded my nephew. “I guess I would. Yes.”

“You would?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you more than anything else in the world, Danny. And you don’t deserve to be involved in this mess. So, yes, if you asked, I’d step aside. I wouldn’t do it for your mother, but for you, the answer stands.”

Danny looked at me for a long time, and I met his gaze steadily, even if my eyes were wet.

“Well, f**k it,” Danny said quietly. “I won’t ask you, then.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “Thanks.”

“You guys are like a soap opera,” he muttered dejectedly.

“I know.” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Danny. I…I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” He slid off the fence. “I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you.”

“See you, Dan.”

The tears spilled over as I watched my nephew walk slowly back into the gym. He looked like an adult, shoulders sagging, feet heavy. Not like a kid anymore. We grown-ups had taken care of that.

WHEN I GOT HOME, THERE WAS a message on my machine.

“Millie, it’s Sam. Look—” Pause. “We need to talk. I—” Pause. Deep breath. “I stopped by about a half hour ago, but you weren’t home. I’ll call you later.”

I sank into a chair as my legs went rubbery. That did not sound heartening. No, not at all. We need to talk never bodes well.

For one afternoon, I’d had a glimpse of what love could really be like. What loving Sam could be like, and for that afternoon, I had been truly, deeply happy to the very roots of my soul. I’d been with the man I loved, and he’d loved me, and we were on the verge of the rest of our lives.

Tears spilled out of my eyes and onto my cheeks, but my face felt carved from stone. God, I was so damn tired of crying. And waiting. I’d been waiting for years now for my life, my real life, to begin. Waited for things to happen, for people to notice, to call, to invite, to love.

We need to talk.

If Trish got Sam back, there was no justice in the world. But I knew Sam, and as Curtis had said, he was true blue. Faithful, loyal, dependable. If his ex-wife, who had left him just over a year ago, begged him to forgive her and take her back so they could be a family again, what would Sam do? If Danny asked him to give Trish another chance, wouldn’t Sam do exactly that? Wouldn’t it be easier to turn his back on one afternoon with me instead of a lifetime—Danny’s lifetime—with Trish?

I didn’t move out of the chair for hours. I barely even blinked. My ass grew numb, my stomach growled, but I sat there still. Digger put his head on my lap and I stroked his silky head automatically. The sun began to set, the room grew dim, but I didn’t bother to turn on a light.

The phone rang. My heart immediately began pounding with sickening intensity. Without consciously thinking about it, I answered.

“It’s Curtis.” His voice was low, and I could hear the murmur of voices in the background, some music.

“Hi.”

“Mitchell and I are at the Forge,” Curtis said, naming a charming restaurant in Wellfleet. “It’s the tenth anniversary of our first date and—”

“Curtis, that’s great, but I’ve got a lot going on here. I can’t really talk.”

“Princess, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this…” The sympathy and hesitation in his voice caused a wave of dread to wash over me, and my hands grew clammy.

“What is it, Curtis?”

“They’re here,” he whispered. “Sam and your sister. They have a table near the window. They’re in a very heavy tête-à-tête.”

My stomach cramped. “Oh.”

“I can see their table. Our friend Bart is a waiter here. You met him last Halloween, he was dressed like Barbra Streisand, remember? Anyway, he’s helping us. I’m sitting at the bar with Bart. Mitch is two tables away from Sam and Trish with his back to them and he’s called Bart on his cell, and Bart is right here…what? What did she say?”

“No. Curtis, don’t. I don’t want to know. I’m not spying anymore. Please don’t.”

“Shh!”

“Curtis, no! Please stop.” The idea that the guys were going to relay Sam and Trish’s conversation made me nauseous.

“You don’t want to know what they’re saying?”

“No! It’s private. Please don’t.”

Curtis paused. “Oh. Oh, all right. It’s okay, Bart, she doesn’t want us to.” My friend sighed, irked with my lack of cooperation. “Well, Millie, do you at least want to know what they’re doing? It is a public place and all. It’s not like we need binoculars or anything.”

I hesitated and pressed my palm against my aching forehead. Sam was with Trish at a beautiful, expensive, romantic restaurant. Yesterday, you were in bed with me, Sam. You loved me yesterday. How can you be with Trish now? “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Great. Let me take a peek. Well, they haven’t eaten much. Trish is talking…. She’s wearing a yellow dress, some chunky topaz jewelry, very nice shoes, I think they’re Jimmy Choo…. She’s leaning forward, very intense, talking, not smiling—Hi, Mitch, hon, no, Millie pulled the plug, but thanks, you make a great spy—okay, now Sam is talking.” Curtis’s voice grew softer. “He’s taking her hand. Now he’s…okay, she’s crying, is she laughing a little, too?”

I felt as hollow as an abandoned mine shaft, echoing, empty, dark. “Curtis, that’s enough—”

“He’s kissing her hand. Now she’s really crying. He’s going around to her side of the table, got his arm around her. Oh. Oh.” Curtis drew a sharp breath. “He kissed her, Millie.”

“I think that’s enough,” I whispered.

“Yes. Right.”

My chest was tight and my head throbbed with every beat of my heart. I kept the phone to my ear, listening to the restaurant where Sam and Trish had made up.

Trish would be living on the Cape again. I would see them all the time. And now, unlike just thirty-six hours ago, everyone knew. I loved Sam, and he, Trish, my parents, Danny, everyone knew. Things with my nephew would never be the same. I’d have to smile at Sam at Thanksgiving and buy him a sweater at Christmas. Maybe they’d have another baby.

“Millie? Are you still there, honey?” Curtis’s voice was horribly gentle.

“Do you think I can come up and stay with you guys for a couple of days? Before I start work?”

“Sure! Of course. Stay as long as you like. You can even bring your dog.”

“I’ll just throw a few things together….”

“Fantastic. And Millie…I’m so sorry.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CURTIS AND MITCH GREETED ME as if I were a delicate cancer patient, holding my arms gently, talking in hushed voices.

“You can stay for as long as you like,” Curtis said staunchly.

“Thanks, bud, but I think it’ll just be for a couple of days at the most. I just…I just wanted to be somewhere else.”

“Of course! And what about dinner, Millie? Would you care for something to eat?” Mitch asked kindly. I tried to remember the last meal I’d eaten and couldn’t, but my stomach seemed to have a bocce ball in it.

“I think maybe I’ll just go to bed. I’m sorry I ruined your anniversary.”

“No, don’t be silly! It’s just the anniversary of our first date! We’ll celebrate our real anniversary next month. Don’t worry.”