“We all know Mikey has a penchant for the dramatic. We had a few bumps over Ohio and he acts like the plane almost fell out of the sky,” Jessie sighed, opening her arms to hug me. “How are you, darling? Sorry we didn’t get to chat in Chicago.”
Jessie and I had bonded during the bachelorette party, where she was a big help when I cooked our pre-going-out brunch. Logistics were worked out in the present, all of us girls taking the van with Kitty’s wedding dress in it, and the boys taking the car.
“Fewer farts anyway,” Kitty said. “Plus Jessie can eat Roger’s biscuit.”
“Hell yeah, is that from Tootie’s?” Jessie asked, mouth dropping open. Tootie’s is a beloved West Virginia institution, renowned for its delightfully artery-clogging biscuit sandwiches that sometimes haunted my dreams.
“Oh, that’s right, I forgot you’re West Virginian, too!” I said. “No promises on the farts, Kitty Cat. Tootie’s brings it out of everybody.”
I was doing better than expected.Lookat me, cracking jokes and everything!Being around Kitty was relaxing. Guess that’s the whole reason we’d been best friends all those years.
The baggage belt buzzed for incoming luggage and those of us from the flight stepped forward to claim it.
As I bent for what I thought was my bag, I bumped heads with one of the hockey guys. We both shouted at the same time, then snapped to look at each other.
“Were you trying to steal my bag?” I asked, stepping to follow the black bag with the red tag on it.
“I . . . was not? Because it’s my bag?” He walked alongside me, both of us awkwardly chasing the bag in question.
“What are you talking about? I put a red tag on my bag so I could always pick it out.”
“Yeah, well, so did I,” he said, grabbing it as an identical bag appeared at the beginning of the belt.
I flapped my jaw shut, and for whatever reason, this whole interaction was overwhelming to me. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact that my boyfriend was no longer my boyfriend and had never really beenmyboyfriend. Tears welled, and I cast my eyes to the floor.
“See?” His voice was gentle as he opened the tag to show the scrawled “Nick Oberbeck.” Not the precisely penned “Annabelle Markham.” His cat-green eyes met mine and softened, his jaw going slack as he caught my expression. He pressed his lips together, trying to decide how to handle me, but said nothing more.
“Yeah. Funny how that works,” I said, sniffing to ward off my tears. A bag and a little head bonk was nothing to cry over. I was being ridiculous.
When my bag arrived beside us, he bent to take it off the belt.“I take it this one is yours,” he flipped open the tag, “Annabelle Markham?”
“Annie,” I corrected.
“Annie Markham,” he said with a soft smile. “You have excellent taste in suitcases.”
My stomach swooped at his kindness and attempt to smooth things over. Then a wave of exhaustion matched the throb where we’d hit our heads. I rubbed my forehead. “I need a Diet Coke,” I mumbled.
Nick cocked his head to the side and scrunched his nose. “Diet Coke? That stuff’ll kill you.”
I groaned. “I wasn’t looking for a lecture.”
His cheeks went red like they had when he saw me on the plane. “I didn’t mean—I could find a vending machine? Least I could do. After the head bump—”
Kitty interrupted us. “Oh, good, Nick, you got Annie’s bag? Let’s go. There’s a Diet Coke in the car for you.” She was already halfway to the exit, jangling some car keys in her hand.
No rest for the wicked. And for once in my life, I had come to terms with my own wickedness. What kind of woman was I? I’d been in an affair with a married man. How could I live with myself? How could I show my face at a wedding without a scarlet A on my chest?
At our car, Guy kissed Kitty, gazing down into her eyes and leaning her against the rental van. “Don’t drive crazy,ma puce. I wanna see you safe at the altar this weekend.”
His still calling her that cute little nickname that he had in high school sent a pang of nostalgia and longing through me. I had to look away to keep from crying. I wanted what they had so bad. And I thought I was going to get it, but I was just kidding myself. After a life of proving my right to be here and striving for first place, I was second-best when it came to love.
“See if you can make Mikey puke,” Kitty laughed. “Let’s see how these Midwesterners handle the old country roads.”
Chapter 2
Nick
JULY | Tarot: IX. The Hermit
