I laugh a little. “Thank you. It’s actually—really nice to hear that. A nice reminder.”
She pats my hand. “Well, we all need to be reminded of things sometimes. I sure do. I can’t remember a damn thing these days. Yesterday, I drove all the way to the grocery store, forgot what I needed, which was butter, and drove all the way home, only to find that I did have more butter in the freezer.”
I chuckle. “Here, how about a spritz?” I say, taking one and handing her another.
“Mind if I interrupt?” says a voice.
I turn to see Nate standing beside us.
A flush of warmth moves through me, against my will. He’s shucked off the jacket that Cara forced him to keep on for the photos and ceremony, and his tie is long gone. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone and his sleeves are rolled; he looks even more devastating than he did earlier.
Nate nods at her. “If you don’t mind, Aunt Maggie, we have an unfinished handshake-related issue we need to discuss.”
His aunt laughs and happily wanders off to talk to Mr. Lancolm while Nate turns to me. “Aunt Maggie’s hats increase in size in direct proportion to her age. I’m a bit afraid that she’ll live to ninety only to be crushed by the weight of her own hat.”
I laugh, despite myself. “Maybe you can rig her some sort of hat support system.”
He taps his chin. “Now that’s interesting. I hadn’t thought of that.” Then, the merriment dancing in his eyes fades into something more sober. “Listen. Can we talk? Alone, maybe?”
My heart stutters. After the night before last, I don’t know if I can handle a talk, let alone being alone with him.
“How about in there?” I manage, and gesture at the gazebo.
He nods and we walk toward the gazebo steps in silence. Then he holds out a hand, like a gentleman, like he’s always done when I get out of the car or am getting up from the table, to help me up the shallow two steps.
As soon as I step underneath its lattice-dappled shade, I feel this sense of being swept into another era. That old romantic feeling I always had as a kid comes back to me: when I’d stretch out on one of these benches and imagine being the star of an old movie or a fairy-tale princess. But I was a kid then and knew nothing about how messy love can actually be.
Now, it’s strange—and beautiful—to enter the gazebo like this, as an adult, with Nate. I can see now why Meema had it built in the first place. It’s a way to be out here at the party and yet to feel like we’re the only people in the world.
“Wow. You really have done an amazing job.”
“I try to deliver on my promises.”
I turn to face him, wishing I had a quippy response. But the thing is, he’s made no promises. He never did. Not to me.
He swallows.
The silence between us grows thick with the weight of our fight, of everything that led to it. Of impossibility.
I clear my throat. “I know you said you wanted to expand into contractor work, but you really could probably put together a whole business just in restoring antique properties like this one. I don’t know. Maybe it’ll become a retirement hobby.” I know I’m babbling, trying to somehow bridge the huge gap between us.
He lets out a sigh, forms a half grin. “I actually think in retirement I might like to finally turn my attention to beekeeping. They’re endangered, you know.”
“You’d face your fears just to protect the bees?”
He swallows again and looks at me, a flush taking over his face. “I feel like it’s time I start facing my fears.”
I swallow too. “Is that right?”
“Nikki, I’m so sorry I was such a dick the other night. I had just learned about your mom being sick, and it brought up all these old emotions about my own mother. And then, with theLovedBything… I was upset and hurt and blindsided and… and that’s no excuse. I had no right to be. I had no right to care as much as I did. It’s your life, and you should do what makes you happy. If that’s finding love onA Shore Thing, then who I am to stop you?”
“I’m actually not going on the show after all.”
“You’re not? But—”
“I called my producer back. I told her I need to take some time for myself. Figure a few things out. I also—I don’t think I’m going back to LA. I mean, I’ll go back to get my things out of storage, but… even before Mom’s news, I—I realized how much I missed this place. Missed this life. It’s like I’ve been headed in the wrong direction for so long, I couldn’t see a way back to what was right in front of me.”
He’s looking at me, a mix of emotions dancing across his face. “Okay. Wow. Well, that’s great. I mean, it sounds like you’re really considering what you need, not what others want or expect. I mean, you can do what others want or expect, too, it’s none of my business…” He drags a hand down his face. “I’m just saying, yeah. I don’t know. This isn’t coming out right. But I’m, wow, I’m happy for you, Nik. I—” His voice catches in his throat. “You’re such an amazing, accomplished, fucking drop-dead gorgeous human being, inside and out, and you deserve the Happily Ever After you want, and you’ll get it, and it’ll kill me to see how happy you are with whoever that guy is, but I’ll try not to let it show too much.”
