Cold Feet In Hot Sand

by Lauren Gallagher

  Once he’d gotten rid of some of the sand, he turned on the faucet and cupped his hands under it. Splashing water on his face, all he could think was what the fuck did we just do?

  He’d noticed from day one that Deanna was attractive—who wouldn’t?—but she’d never been an option. She’d been married when they met, and by the time she divorced, Nick was with Kristina. This, what happened out there on the sand, had never crossed his mind. Sure, he’d had his share of impure thoughts about her before she’d introduced him to her sister, but he’d fantasized about plenty of women he never expected to actually touch.

  Taking a deep breath, Nick met his own eyes in the mirror. There was no going back now. It wasn’t that he’d intended to try to win Kristina back—this split was a long time coming, and needed to happen—but it shouldn’t have ended the way it did. Not with him dropping a bomb on her like that. Once the dust had settled, he needed to talk to her, see if they could mend fences and walk away peacefully. Maybe not as friends, but… something other than his departure this morning.

  But now? Jesus, how he could he look her in the eye and tell her he never meant to hurt her, that he still loved her, now that he’d fucked Deanna?

  He’d have to man up and figure it out, though. After all, he couldn’t hide in this restroom forever, no matter how much he really, really wanted to at the moment. At this point, all he could do was not screw things up worse than they already were. Given that he’d have to open his mouth at some point, the odds weren’t promising.

  God, please don’t let me hurt her more than I already have.

  Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and went back outside. Deanna was nowhere in sight, but the mechanical roar of a hand dryer echoed in the ladies’ room, so he didn’t worry she’d gone on without him. Probably would have been best if she had anyway. Facing her was only marginally easier than facing Kristina, and that was only because Deanna knew what they had done. The confession wasn’t needed.

  The hand dryer shut off. A moment later, Deanna joined him outside.

  They briefly made eye contact, then started along the beach toward his motel.

  Neither of them spoke. The waves gently lapping at the shore emphasized the silence between him and Deanna, and every quiet splash threatened to send him out of his mind. What was he supposed to say? Were there even words for this?

  “Deanna, I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “About what—”

  “I was just as much a part of it as you were.” She stayed focused straight ahead, not even glancing his direction. “What do we do now, though?”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s… probably best if we don’t tell Kristina. She’s been hurt enough.”

  Deanna winced.

  “God, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “So am I.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest like she was warding off a chill. “I came to find you so I could talk to you. I guess I can tell her we talked, and you haven’t changed your mind.”

  Nick nodded slowly. “Guess that’s close enough to the truth.”

  “It is the truth.” She looked at him. “Unless you have changed your mind?”

  “No.” He dropped his gaze to the sand at their feet. “I don’t think I could look her in the eye now anyway.”

  “I know the feeling,” she said softly.

  Nick cringed on her behalf. Kristina would probably be thrilled if she never saw his face again anyway, but Deanna was her sister. They’d always been inseparably close. The while family was close, and while Nick only had to deal with his own reflection after this, Deanna would have to put on a “nothing’s wrong at all” face whenever she sat across from Kristina at their parents’ table.

  God damn it, Nick, what were you thinking?

  That he wanted Deanna. It was that simple. He’d never imagined having the opportunity or inclination to sleep with her, but then he had, and he did, and it was just that simple.

  Which didn’t excuse a damned thing or make him feel the least bit better.

  A half concrete, half sand path led them from the beach to the boardwalk that would take them back to his motel. They both stopped and wordlessly brushed the sand off their bare feet so they could put their sandals back on.

  Neither spoke as they continued down the boardwalk toward his motel. The only sound was the quiet, rhythmic slap of their sandals hitting their heels in between the dull thuds of the thick rubber soles hitting sand-dusted boards.

  Stomach tied in knots, he said, “So how do we want to do this?”

  Deanna blew out a breath. “I should go back to the hotel. Talk to her, see how she’s doing. After that…” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  Nick nodded. “Then I’ll talk to her. You sure you want to be one to feel her out?”

  “Better me than you.” She turned the corner into the parking lot. “She’s already upset—”

  Deanna stopped suddenly.

  Nick looked up, and his blood instantly turned cold.

  Kristina leaned against Nick’s rental car. Her arms were folded across her chest, her eyes red but dry, and her lips formed a tight, thin line.

  Her gaze slid toward Deanna, some of the hostility in her posture eased. Brushing a strand of hair out of her face, she sniffed and said, “You didn’t come back, so I wanted to make sure you hadn’t killed him.” She managed a soft laugh, but when her eyes darted toward him, her expression hardened again.

  “No, I didn’t kill him. Just—” Deanna casually took a step away from Nick. “—talking about things.”

  Kristina shifted her weight. Her engagement ring sparkled beneath the streetlights, and the guilt in Nick’s chest burned even hotter. “I checked a bunch of the bars, but didn’t see you guys. Where… where have you been?”

  “Walking.” Deanna started toward her sister. “Why don’t you and I go back to the hotel and talk?”

  “No.” Kristina set her jaw and glared at Nick. “If it’s bad news, I can handle it. I made it through what you told me this morning, didn’t I?”

  Deanna and Nick glanced at each other, and before he could tell himself what a dead giveaway it would be, he shifted his gaze away from her.

  “Wait a second,” Kristina said, and when he looked at her, she narrowed her eyes. Her gaze darted toward Deanna. Back to him. Her sister. Him again. Slowly, they widened, and as she drew in a slow breath, his heart sank deeper because he knew before she spoke that she knew.

  “Deanna.” Kristina’s hands fell to her sides. “Please, tell me you didn’t…”

  Nick glanced at Deanna out of the corner of his eye, and she’d folded her arms across her chest and looked away.

  He swallowed. “Kristina, I’m—”

  “Fuck you, Nick,” she snarled, her eyes welling up. “Deanna, please, tell me it isn’t true.”

  The tears in Deanna’s voice cut Nick even deeper than the words: “I am so sorry, Kristina.”

  “Oh my God.” Kristina sagged against the car like the implied confession had been a punch to the gut. “You… you really…” She looked at Nick, and all her fury had been replaced by deep, palpable pain. “Nick…”

  “Let me explain,” Deanna said softly. She glanced at Nick, then faced Kristina. “Let’s go back to the—”

  “You were supposed to talk to him,” Kristina said, almost whispering. “Not fuck him!”

  She could be a screamer during a fight, and between them, Nick was surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the cops a time or two. For the first time, he wished she’d screech at him now. Scream at him, call him an asshole, whatever, but not this. Please, not this. Nothing in the world had ever hit him as hard as that wavering, barely audible whisper of someone who hurt so badly she could barely speak.

  Deanna took another step toward her sister, but stopped when Kristina recoiled.

  “I can’t believe you,” Kristina said.

  “We didn’t mean for this to happen,” Deanna said. “I swear, we—”

  �
��Then what happened?” Kristina’s voice shifted toward cold fury. “You were talking and your clothes fell off?”

  Deanna exhaled sharply. “Would you listen to me?”

  “No,” Kristina snapped. “There’s nothing to talk about. I never thought you were quite such an opportunist, but hey, apparently I’m a piss-poor judge of character.” She narrowed her eyes at Nick. “I’m on a roll, aren’t I?”

  He put up a hand. “We didn’t set out to hurt you. Honestly, we—”

  “You practically left me at the goddamned altar, you son of a bitch,” she snarled. “And then you fucked my sister. How exactly is that not setting out to hurt me?” Before he could respond, she put up her hands. “Whatever. I’m done here.” She yanked off her ring, and Nick and Deanna both balked like they thought it would come flying at one of them.

  Instead, Kristina just let it drop to the sandy pavement between her feet with a quiet clink. Her fury faded, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at Nick and Deanna in turn. “I hope you two are happy. You fucking deserve each other.”

  She walked away.

  Nick didn’t stop her.

  Neither did Deanna.

  They didn’t look at each other and didn’t speak as Kristina got into the rental she’d driven over—their parents’, he guessed—and pulled out of the parking lot.

  As soon as she was gone, Nick released a breath. “Fuck…”

  “I need to go,” Deanna said. “I’m sorry, Nick. I shouldn’t have—”

  “You said yourself,” he whispered, “neither of us is more at fault than the other. It happened, and I’m sorry too.”

  “Yeah, it happened.” She took a step back. “And it can’t happen again.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and hurried toward her car, keys jingling in her shaking hands.

  He didn’t watch her leave. He listened until the engine blended into the low, distant rush of other cars and the nearby ocean. Then he started toward the room, but halfway across the parking lot he stopped. Turned. Slowly retraced a few of his steps to the place where Kristina had been standing moments ago.

  Nick stooped and picked up the ring. As he stood, he stared at the solitaire in his hand. How many times had he checked on the way to the restaurant to make sure he hadn’t forgotten it or lost it the night he proposed? When she’d said yes and he’d put the ring on her hand, he’d joked that now he could stop being so paranoid about losing it.

  “I’ve been scared to death I was going to drop it or lose it,” he’d said, laughing. “You can keep track of it now.”

  Wasn’t quite so amusing now.

  He’d never been so numb in his life as he went to the door of his motel room. He put the key into the lock, turned it, and stepped inside.

  The room was cold, and not just because of the blasting A/C. Places like this were simply appointed compared to the luxury hotel across town where the wedding party stayed. The walls were bare, the electronics basic and barely useful. A phone, a TV, a coffeemaker. That was it.

  It could have been the most spectacular room on the island—like, say, the honeymoon suite they’d reserved for tonight and the next two weeks—and it still would have felt desolate, though. As inviting as a prison cell.

  Nick dropped his keys and wallet on the table beside the TV. Then he lay back on top of the plain bedspread on the rock hard bed. Between his fingers, he held the ring, and he watched himself turn it in the soft light from the bedside lamp. So this was how it ended. He wasn’t just the cowardly groom who’d skipped out on his own wedding. Now he was the scumbag who’d ditched her at the altar and, for good measure, fucked her sister. He was that guy.

  And it was a reputation he deserved. He’d earned his place of infamy in her future “let me tell you about my fucked up ex” stories. Men had hurt her before—cheating on her, discarding her like she was trash, leaving her in cowardly and ungentlemanly ways—but Nick had a feeling he’d just parked himself at the top of the list of assholes who’d been through her life.

  It was a well-deserved promotion, too. God, he could only imagine how much she hated him right now. And how much she was hurting. This would take her a long, long time to deal with, and there was nothing he could to do help. Nothing he could do to ease her pain at all except stay far away from her.

  And for that matter, Deanna. Their heat of the moment tryst had likely cost her the close friendship she’d always had with her sister. She’d assured him they were equally at fault, but he was the one who’d set all this in motion, and because of him, she’d lost something that couldn’t be replaced.

  Lying in bed beside Kristina last night, he’d realized he had no choice. He couldn’t change the fact that he hadn’t called off the wedding days, weeks, months ago when he damn well should have. He also couldn’t change the fact that it needed to be called off.

  But he’d never wanted this.

  Five

  Heart going a million miles a minute, car going only marginally slower, Deanna hurried through town. She made a left down one of the streets that would take her back to the hotel. It seemed like years since she’d driven this route in reverse. She’d been grinding her teeth then, ready to choke Nick for being such an idiot. Who was the idiot now?

  Kristina would make it back to the hotel first, and Deanna had no doubt every wedding guest and family member would know the truth before long, but the sooner she caught up, the sooner she could try to do some damage control.

  Damage control? Yeah. Anything she did or said would be, at best, about as effective as a Dust Buster after a tornado. Damage control was what she’d gone to do this morning. The end result? This mess.

  What did I do? What did I do? Jesus Christ, what did I do?

  She thumped the heel of her hand on the wheel and resisted the urge to break down crying with shame and frustration. She couldn’t explain why it had happened, why she’d let it happen. Worse, she couldn’t even begin to tell herself she hadn’t liked it. Of all the reasons this whole thing made her sick to her stomach, that was among the worst. It was wrong, but in the moment, it had felt right.

  I fucked my sister’s fiancé. I fucked my best friend. And I don’t even have the decency to tell myself it wasn’t some of the most amazing sex I’ve ever had.

  Deanna’s stomach twisted tighter and her heart beat even

  faster as she pulled into the parking lot. She parked, killed the engine, and hurried toward the hotel lobby. The elevator took her up to the floor where everyone in the wedding party was staying, and as she rushed past all the other doors, she silently prayed her sister would be willing to speak to her at all, never mind hear her out.

  Deanna stopped in front of Kristina’s door. Steeling herself, holding her breath, she tapped her knuckle. The sound echoed through her consciousness, reminding her of the moment she’d knocked on the door of Nick’s empty motel room.

  I should have taken that as a sign and just let it go. I should have come back here. Damn it, why did—

  The door opened, and Jess, one of Kristina’s bridesmaids, stood on the other side. Her expression instantly turned to steel. “Kristina doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “I need to talk to her,” Deanna said.

  “No,” Jess said. “You need to get out of here and leave her alone.”

  Deanna barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. “This is between Kristina and—”

  Kristina shoved past Jess. Deanna stumbled back a couple of steps into the hall, and Kristina followed her.

  “What is wrong with you, you fucking whore?” she screamed. “Were you just waiting for the opportunity—”

  “I wasn’t waiting for a damned thing,” Deanna threw back, glancing from side to side as other guests opened their doors and peered out of their rooms. “Kristina, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say that. I never meant for this—”

  “You didn’t mean for it to happen.” She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You two w
ere having an innocent conversation, and he just accidentally put his dick in you.”

  Deanna struggled to keep from getting any more defensive than she already was, or getting impatient. Her sister had every right to be this angry.

  “I’m sorry, Kristina,” she said. “I… there’s nothing I can say to justify it, but—”

  “Oh, you’re right about that,” Kristina snarled. “What the hell, Dee? Your marriage falls apart, so you have to break mine up before it even starts?”

  “I didn’t break a damned thing up. He’s the one who left.”