by Cat Grant
She shoved a newspaper in his face—the latest edition of the New York Post, sporting the headline, “My Boyfriend Dumped Me—For Eric Courtland!"
Beneath the screaming thirty-six-point type was a photo—a big photo—of Laura.
"Why would she do something like this, Nick?” His mother's voice hovered on the knife-edge of tears. “And how did she even find out about you and Eric in the first place? Did you tell her?"
"No, of course not!” He scanned the article quickly, momentarily relieved to see that it didn't identify him by name, but only as “an up-and-coming New York Herald reporter who's kept company with the recently-elected senator for a number of years.” Which, frankly, was scant comfort. Everyone who'd attended their anniversary party knew which New York Herald reporters Eric Courtland counted among his close personal friends, and Laura clearly wasn't talking about Holly. “Jesus,” he muttered.
"Nick, we can't let your father see this."
"So throw it away,” he snapped, handing it back to her, “and keep the TV off, in case this shows up on one of those tabloid shows."
"Oh, God, you don't really think she—"
"I don't know,” he said grimly. “But I'm going to find out."
He caught the express train into the city, pulling into Penn at the height of rush hour, and hopped the subway across town to Laura's apartment. She answered the door looking sweaty, dirty and tired, dressed in stained sweatpants and a tank top, her dark hair scraped back in a messy ponytail. Her expression hardened the second she saw him. “What do you want?"
"I saw today's Post. I think you owe me an explanation."
"I don't owe you a damn thing, Nick. You're the one who dumped me, remember?"
"Well, if you're trying to convince me that I made a mistake, you're doing a really great job.” He pushed past her and stepped inside, shutting the door with a bang. Glancing around, he spied boxes everywhere, the furniture covered with tarps. “Going somewhere?"
"Berkeley. The Post paid me enough to cover my first year's tuition in their graduate English lit program. If I'm lucky, I'll never have to set foot in this crappy city again."
"If all you needed was money, I could've asked Eric to help you out. You didn't have to—"
She stared at him, bursting out in bitter laughter. “I wouldn't take a dime from him even if I was living on the street, not after what Allison told me last week."
His stomach clenched, as if poised at the top of a hill on a roller coaster. And, remembering his phone conversation with Ally, he knew his next question would send it plunging straight to the bottom. “What did she tell you?"
"To be honest, I don't think she intended to spill the beans. But when the conversation rolled around to our breakup, she started saying how she knew exactly how I must feel, because of how devastated she'd been when she found out you and Eric were fucking each other again a few weeks after their wedding. She thought I'd known about the two of you all along!” she spat acidly. “Apparently someone told her that I'd broken it off with you instead of the other way around, and she assumed Eric was the reason."
He stood there listening numbly, a hot flush of shame creeping up his face. “I'm sorry, Laura, I really am. I didn't mean for you to find out like that. I-I ... thought it'd be less embarrassing for you if I told everybody you'd called it off."
"It would've been less embarrassing if you'd told me the truth yourself. Do you have any idea how pathetic and foolish I felt sitting across that table from her, listening to her babble on about how you fucked around on me the entire time we were together?” She sniffed hard, looking for a moment as if she might actually start to cry. “I'll bet you and Eric had a great big horselaugh at my expense—poor, clueless Laura, too stupid to figure out that her fiancé prefers sucking cock!"
"It wasn't like that, I swear.” It broke his heart knowing she thought such awful, ugly things about him, though he knew he'd brought this all on himself. “I wanted to tell you. I just couldn't stand hurting you."
"Well, thanks for nothing.” Grabbing a pile of books from a nearby table, she lugged them over to an open box. “At least in California, I won't have to see Eric's picture plastered over every fucking newsstand. That alone will make the trip worth it."
Still reeling, Nick spent the next hour or so walking around aimlessly, trying in vain to clear his head. At last he ducked into a diner for a cup of coffee and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Eric's private number in DC.
To his surprise, the housekeeper answered. Apparently Eric and Ally had left for New York that afternoon. Funny, but Ally hadn't mentioned a damn thing about coming up to the city in any of her recent emails.
He caught the subway uptown, cold rage rising inside him with each passing second. Eric was on the phone in his office when he arrived; he waved Nick to a chair and kept on talking. A few minutes later he hung up, shushing Nick before he'd said a word. “I already know about the Post article, and it's being handled,” he rasped brusquely. “I've got my people out canvassing the whole state for every copy they can find."
"Too bad they didn't find them all before my mother saw it."
Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know this isn't particularly pleasant, but I've lived under this kind of public scrutiny my whole life. By this time next week, they'll have moved on to the next scandal. Besides, nobody pays attention to that rag anyway."
"Well, I'm glad one of us can afford to be so cavalier about it,” Nick retorted. “I just came from seeing Laura. She's devastated. I don't understand how Ally could've been so fucking careless."
"That's enough,” Eric snapped. “You're seriously out of line here, Nick. If you hadn't been lying to Laura all along, none of this would—"
"Let it go, Eric,” came Ally's voice from the doorway, calm and resigned. “I'm to blame for this as much as Nick."
"Well, at least you've got the nerve to admit it,” Nick spat, standing to face her.
"Nick, please, listen to me,” Ally pleaded. “I never would've said a thing if I'd known you hadn't told her. For God's sake, you were together for five years! How could you not tell her?"
The genuine anguish in her voice tugged at his heart, but didn't melt it. Anger still had too tight a grip on him. “That's a pretty pitiful excuse, especially after all the sacrifices I've made to keep our relationship under wraps. But I guess I'm not the one who matters here, am I?"
Ally went on protesting, but Eric simply sat behind his desk drumming his fingers on the blotter and looking annoyed, as if Nick were some pesky, insignificant bug buzzing around the room.
He couldn't stand it anymore. Storming out, Nick took the stairs two at a time down to the lobby and hailed a cab to take him back to Penn Station. He'd get home late, but he didn't care. He didn't want to spend the night at his apartment. Eric and Ally might show up, and he couldn't stomach another confrontation.
The house stood dark when he arrived back at the farm, with the exception of a light over the kitchen sink. Exhaustion replaced adrenaline the second he lumbered through the door, and he would've let himself drop where he stood if not for the acidic roiling in his belly. He microwaved some leftover macaroni and cheese he found in the fridge, shoveling it into his mouth without tasting it. Afterwards, he stared down into his bowl, despair sluicing over him like a tidal wave.
He didn't even hear his mother come up behind him, easing a gentle hand onto his shoulder. “What happened?"
He didn't say anything. He couldn't. He felt dead inside, numb and hollow. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he held on tight, bracing himself for tears that never came.
* * * *
Allison sat glaring daggers at him across the table for nearly an hour, pushing her food around on her plate, evidently more interested in the wine than the cassoulet their chef had prepared. She'd downed two glasses so far. Soon she gave up all pretense of eating and poured herself a third, taking a healthy sip.
Eric set down his fork, his lips tightening in disapproval. “Allison, tha
t's a fine French import, not a can of Pepsi. Show a little respect."
She snorted. “Just like you showed respect for Nick."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Why didn't you go after him?"
"And do what, exactly? Have a screaming match with him down in the lobby?"
"Oh, no, of course not. Can't have him thinking you actually give a shit about him."
"I'm not about to apologize, not when he's the one who barged in here and started yelling at us."
"God, you're fucking incredible,” she spat. “You've never been wrong about anything in your entire life, have you?"
He laughed, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “What do you propose we do? Get down on our knees and grovel?"
"I would."
"Now you're being ridiculous."
"You know, we're sitting here talking about making amends to a man we both supposedly love, and yet you're apparently more concerned about your pride than anything else."
"You can't let Nick ride roughshod over you, Allison. If you do, he'll keep on thinking he can show up in DC whenever he likes, and you know how disastrous that could be."
"Oh, so this is really all about protecting your precious political career. Color me stunned."
"It's about protecting your career too. Or are you so anxious to go back to covering fashion shows?"
She tossed back the rest of her wine and got up, wobbling her way to the door, glancing back at him with an expression somewhere in between disgust and utter contempt. “I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."
Eric swirled the last few sips of cabernet in his own glass, trying to ward off his latest migraine by sheer force of will. He should probably go check on her and take his best stab at mending fences. Instead, he swallowed three Tylenol and went back to his office. He didn't have the patience or the inclination to deal with Allison's moods tonight. He had work to do.
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Chapter 8
One Year, Three Lives: Fall
The funeral fell on the last day of September. It dawned clear blue and warm, the sun hammering down like some cruel joke. Half of Seneca Falls filed through the house that afternoon, bearing condolences and covered dishes, the crush of bodies making the air stuffy and close, even with all the windows open.
Nick gritted his teeth and endured it all as best he could, but there was only so much handshaking and somber, earnest nodding he could do before he started throwing things. With his mother's sympathetic nod of approval, he ducked out to the loft. He found the temperature out there only slightly cooler than in the house, but at least he could strip off his jacket and tie and roll up his sleeves. If he stood at the window he thought he could feel the tiniest whisper of an autumn breeze in the air.
He stretched out on the couch and tried to fall asleep, but he couldn't get comfortable. The old wool cushions scratched and it was still too damned hot. Sitting up, he buried his face in his hands. His eyes burned, but he couldn't cry. He hadn't cried at the hospital or the mortuary, not even at the burial. Sometimes he wondered if his tears had dried up for good.
The stairs creaked, and he looked up to see Allison approaching, smiling a small, shaky half-smile. “Hi, Nick. Hope I'm not intruding."
He didn't particularly want to see her, especially not now, but he didn't see any point in telling her that. He'd had a feeling she'd show up, since he'd heard through the grapevine that she was back in town, although as far as he knew, Eric hadn't come with her. “Thanks for coming,” he said, standing up. “I'm sure my mom appreciates it."
He'd meant the remark to sting, and from her expression, he could see that the barb had found its mark. It didn't feel as satisfying as he'd hoped. “H-How have you been?” she asked, wincing as soon as the words left her mouth. “God, what a stupid question."
"Miserable, if you really want to know,” he replied tonelessly.
"That makes two of us."
"I would've thought you were too busy to have time to get depressed."
"Not so much anymore.” She had that tiny tremor in her voice she usually got when she felt flustered or embarrassed. “The network's cancelled the show, and passed on renewing my contract."
"I'm sorry,” he murmured. Strangely enough, he realized he meant it. “I know how much that job meant to you. You worked hard for a long time to get it."
"Yeah, well, you know networks—if you don't get boffo ratings right out of the gate, they lose interest pretty quickly. But I suppose my showing up hung over every other morning didn't help either.” She wiped her eyes, forcing a nervous smile. “I fucked up big-time, and I've got no one to blame but myself. I guess good ol’ karma's finally coming around to bite me in the ass."
"Ally, don't—"
"I've been wanting to come out to see you since the day I got back into town, but I was scared to death that you'd take one look at me and drop-kick me all the way back to Washington. And I wouldn't blame you if you did."
"I'm not so proud of myself either,” he said quietly. “I'm to blame for what happened with Laura. I never should've asked her to marry me. The only reason I did it was because I had this stupid idea that it'd make Eric realize that he couldn't live without me, and he'd fall to his knees pledging his undying love.” He rolled his eyes. “I acted like a fucking idiot, and Laura's the one who paid for it. She'll probably never forgive me."
"Maybe it's enough that we forgive each other."
He smiled at her, surprised at how relieved he felt. “I'd like that."
She wrapped her arms around him, his breath catching when she kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Well, I-I'm glad that's over,” she grinned, blinking back fresh tears.
"Me too. I hate being angry at you, or Eric.” He kissed her back, gently and deeply on the lips. “So when's he coming back to town?"
"I wouldn't know. We're separated."
His mouth dropped open. “Wh-When did this happen?"
"It's been brewing from the day I moved to Washington. He's at the Senate till all hours, and even when he's home, he never comes out of his office. It wasn't so bad when I was working too, but I got tired of begging for every measly scrap of attention he deigned to toss my way. The job's swallowed him whole, and the scary part is, he's enjoying it. I doubt he's even noticed I'm gone."
"I'd say I'm sorry, but I think I'm starting to sound like a broken record."
She shrugged. “To be honest, I'm amazed the marriage lasted this long. Eric's not the kind of person you can depend on for the long haul. I knew that when he proposed to me. I'm just sorry that I deluded myself into wasting so much time and energy on a relationship that was doomed from the start.” Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she moved toward the stairs. “I should get going. Your mom's probably wondering what's keeping you."
"You going to be around for a while?"
"I was thinking about heading back to the city for a day or two, but there's no reason I can't put it off.” She smiled. “And if that's your way of asking if it's okay to come over tonight, the answer's yes."
He trudged back to the house, where his mother was bidding the last few mourners goodbye. He helped her straighten up the house and put away all the leftovers before heading upstairs to shower and change into jeans and a t-shirt.
He found her sitting at the kitchen table when he came back down, sipping a glass of iced tea. The back door and all the windows stood wide open, a faint, cool breeze fluttering the curtains. “Say hello to Allison for me,” she said softly, catching hold of Nick's hand. “She popped in and out of here so quickly this afternoon, I didn't have a chance to talk to her."
Oh, God. Busted again. “M-Mom, I'm not—"
"Yes, you are, and it's fine with me. You've been so desperately unhappy these last few months, I'm not about to begrudge you anything that'll put a smile back on your face. Don't worry about leaving me alone, I'm going to lie down in a few minutes anyway. I'm so tired I can barely hold my head up."
He blushed,
gazing sheepishly down at the floor. “I didn't think you'd be glad to see me taking up with her again."
"We don't get many chances at happiness in this life, Nick. And the ones we do get disappear before we know it. I don't know exactly why you and Allison have had such a rough time of it lately, and frankly, I don't want to know. But if you think you can patch it up with her—and Eric too, for that matter—you have my blessing."
"Mom.... “He couldn't decide whether to be happy or stunned, so he settled for both. “I-I never thought you'd understand."
"Well, my parents never understood why I married a farmer, and that turned out all right.” She smiled. “Go on now. Remember to lock up when you come back in."
* * * *
Nick showed up on her doorstep with a hot, hungry glint in his eye. Stumbling upstairs, they undressed each other like it was Christmas and both their birthdays rolled into one. He pushed her eagerly back on the bed, kissing and licking her all over, making yummy noises, like she was made of ice cream. At last she gave him a gentle shove, rolling him onto his back so she could straddle him. She rode him long and hard, the rapt, desperately horny look on his face making her feel like a goddess.
Later, they lay entwined together in spent, blissful contentment, Nick's hand absently stroking her shoulder. “I have to go in a little bit,” he said regretfully.
"S'okay. I wasn't expecting you to spend the night."
Smiling, he leaned over to kiss her. “Thanks for inviting me. I really needed this."
"So did I. I'm just sorry I wasn't around sooner, to help you with everything."
"There's nothing you could've helped with. It happened so fast there at the end, I'm still having a hard time wrapping my mind around it."
"Tell me."
"Last Friday, Mom drove into town for groceries and stuff. I made lunch for Dad and me, and then he went in to take a nap on the couch. I cleaned up and did a few more chores around the house, but later on, when I tried to wake him for dinner, I couldn't.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “We called an ambulance to take him to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do. He was already gone."
