“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
Meghan screwed open the top of one of her water concoctions, took a tiny sip, and gagged. “What Rachel means is”—she jabbed a thumb my way—“she’s got it in her head that she’s not pretty. Whatever that means.”
“Rachel!” Sarah gasped dramatically. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I really hoped I wasn’t about to witness an argument about how pretty I was or wasn’t.
Sarah stood with her hands on her hips. “Sometimes I can’t stand to look at you.”
I laughed. “My point exactly.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Two blotches of pink appeared on her cheeks. “I mean, you’re so beautiful, everything about you.” She stretched out on the bed, propped up by an elbow. “It’s a little intimidating.”
“Ha!” Meghan pointed at me. “I told you.”
“Guys—stop.” I busied myself with hanging up my clothes I didn’t want to get wrinkled. “This is a pointless topic.”
“Okay, okay.” Meghan unpacked her toiletries, lining bottles and zipper pouches on the desk. “Sarah, tell us everything we need to know about Nick.”
“He’s from Omaha. He’s the only boy with a bunch of sisters.”
“Cute.” Meghan tapped her chin. “Rachel needs better female influences in her life.”
“Hey!” Sarah frowned indignantly, but went on. “I’m not sure what he was studying in school, probably journalism or communications. LA Times hired him straight out of college.”
“Impressive.”
“We already knew that,” I said.
“Hush—this doesn’t concern you.” Meghan pinched the air in front of my lips. “Go on, Sarah.”
“He hikes.”
“Nice.” Meghan nodded.
“And surfs.”
“Sexy.”
“And I don’t know this for sure, but I think Hemingway’s his favorite writer.”
Meghan hmm’d and nodded clinically. “When was his last serious relationship?”
Sarah bit her lip, thinking. “It ended less than a year ago. His cow ex is already engaged.”
“Cow,” Meghan agreed.
“He’s single and looking—that I know.”
“Any latex allergies?”
“Meghan.” I nudged her hip with my bare foot. “Do you really think I need to worry about latex tonight?”
“A modern woman is always prepared.” She plopped on the foot of my bed and cracked open a Diet Coke. “I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss. Nick is perfect.” She rolled onto her back and lifted her chin to look at me upside down. “All yours, Rach.”
“I appreciate your confidence.” He was cute, very cute, and sure, I’d only been around him for twenty minutes, but he seemed smart and funny and, yes, he had been flirting with me. I wasn’t that out of practice.
I’d been meaning to move on from Oliver, get past that whole mess. But was it a wise idea to move on from him with one of his best friends?
Chapter Nineteen
That evening, while the group headed to a swanky-chic restaurant in downtown L.A., I rented a car and drove fifty miles east. I needed to pop in on Krikit as soon as possible. I was spending six days in Pasadena, but each second I didn’t see my sister was a second she would make me pay for it when I did visit by watching videos of eighties pop music.
Before I could unload my bag, a scream rang out from inside the house. I sprinted through the front door to find my sister in the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” I exclaimed. “Where are the kids?”
“It’s gross.” Krikit lifted up on her tiptoes, pointing to a corner by the sink. “Kill it, Rachel. Get the gun.”
I looked toward where she was pointing, expecting to see a hungry coyote who’d wandered in from the hills.
“Krikit.” I exhaled. “It’s just a little pill bug.” I grabbed a paper towel off the counter and scooped it up. Krikit whimpered softly as I walked past her toward the front door. Once outside, I opened the paper towel and let the little gray guy slide onto the porch. It stayed curled up in a tight ball, waiting. But it never got the change to uncoil because the heel of a hot pink trainer came down, squashing it flat.
“Krikit!”
“And so is your old lady.” She glared at the tiny stain then looked at me. “Sister!” I was pulled into a hug. I laughed, relaxing into it. “I’m so glad you’re here. Just wait, Paul’s going to say ‘I told you so’ if I don’t clean this up before he gets home.”
Once she released from our hug, she tugged my sleeve, pulling me into the house. “I was making fried chicken and the bread mixer went all crazy.”
“How did flour get in the bottoms of all the glasses?”
She leaned a hip against the counter. “Before I could shut off the mixer, the oil was bubbling and I’m not any good at actually frying anything, but I promised Paul I’d learn to fry chicken for his birthday next month. Now there’s flour everywhere and I scorched the bottom of my new pan from Williams-Sonoma—it’s sitting on the back porch. The kids are down the street, and Paul’ll be home in two seconds and there’s no dinner.” She glanced at the drawer next to the phone, the one I knew was crammed full of paper menus. “I guess we’re having pizza again. Would you mind calling? I need to sit for a second.”
When she stopped to breathe, I laughed. “And so is your old lady?”
“That bug was pissing me off. How dare it disturb me when I’m trying to fry chicken?”
“I don’t think it’s fair to blame an innocent bug for the fact that all Daughtrys suck at culinary arts.”
“I guess.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “So. Rog really didn’t come with you? He hasn’t been home since last summer.”
“His home is San Francisco.” But she went off on a tangent about how home is where you grew up and why does he never come visit. I listened patiently while crouched on the floor, sweeping up flour. No, I couldn’t cook worth a crap, but I could clean.
“Meghan didn’t come with you?” Krikit peered into the framed mirror over the stove, etched with a saying about how a happy home is a dirty home. Whatever got her through the day. “I ran into her mother last week. I guess Meg’s got a new guy?”
The dustpan slipped from my fingers and fell to the bottom of the tall, metal trash can, clanking all the way down.
Krikit pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “Have you met him? He’s probably so hot, like one of those guys on that one show. Ya know which one I mean? She has good taste when it comes to looks. I bet she marries this one, right? Rachel. What are you doing?”
I caught myself staring into the trash can, sweeping the air. “I’ve met him, yes. His name is Oliver.” I cringed, wishing I’d referred to him as Rad. It was easier to think of him by that non-name when I thought of him with Meghan. “She’s known him five months, I guess.” I rescued the floury dustpan, not making eye contact with Krikit. “He’s a computer programmer. And yes, he’s hot, like Chris-Pine-in-Star-Trek hot.”
It made me queasy to utter that last sentence, but the celebrity description detail would pacify Krikit. I walked to the sink and washed my hands, sneaking little glances at my sister. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.” She tossed me a towel to dry my hands.
“Why did you marry Paul?”
She snorted. “Rude, much?”
“No, Sorry. Paul’s great.” I paused, wrapping my arms around my middle. “I meant, why did you get married so young? You were twenty. I ask because I have a…a little problem and I think your answer might help.”
Krikit slowly met my eyes then pushed out a kitchen chair with her foot. “Sit.”
“Thanks.”
She played with the napkin holder before answering. “I was ready to get married, but it was a timing thing, too. Things were rough at home. Dad was out of work, you probably don’t remember.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then you understand what I mean. Paul became eve
rything to me. It felt safer to be with him—someone all my own—than with Mom and Dad when there was all that instability and tension. Paul and I had to trust each other, take a huge leap of faith together. Believe it or not, I did a lot of growing up those first years.”
“What happened since then?” I smirked and nudged her leg.
“Doodoohead.”
I ran my palms over the table. “It is funny. We shared the same situation but it affected us the exact opposite.”
“How do you mean?”
I hesitated, but it felt right to finally talk to my sister about it, though she didn’t need to know every detail. “I had a boyfriend freshman year.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“No one did. Anyway, it got really serious really fast. I became, like, consumed with him. I started skipping classes just to be with him. It was pretty unhealthy, and then I freaked out because he didn’t fit into my”—I paused to cringe—“my plan.”
Krikit lifted her eyebrows. “Your plan plan. The ten-year plan?”
I nodded. “Yeah. We weren’t on the same level about everything back then, which I know now was a ridiculous expectation. I was a total control freak.”
“Was?” my sister said after a snort.
I smirked back. “I’m handling it better now. I’ve had to kind of roll with the punches at my new job. It’s been humbling. Back then, though, the thought of dealing with potential instability scared me to death.”
“It’s good to be scared about the future when you’re young. That probably means you weren’t ready to take whatever step was next.”
“I was the same age as you. He was ready.” I rested my chin in my hands, my shoulders slumping. “We loved each other, and I hurt him bad.”
Krikit reached out and fingered the ends of my hair. “Forgive yourself for what you did when you were a kid. You made a mistake—”
“I did.” A huge one, I almost added. Conflicting emotions spun inside my head. My relationship with Oliver had been so important—life changing. But I still couldn’t think of it without feeling sad. I rubbed my arms, worried that I might cry.
“You’re supposed to make mistakes at that age—lots of them,” Krikit said. “You’re supposed to fall in love and screw up and cry and get arrested and sleep with your lit professor and go public skinny-dipping and fall in love again. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
When I tried to laugh, a sob/cough hung in my chest. “It still hurts when I think about it.”
She put a hand over mine. “Seriously, forgive yourself. It’s been how many years?”
“Almost seven.”
“Seven years. Rach. That’s so long. It’s like a whole dog’s life, right?”
That sob/laugh finally broke out. “I think you’ve got that backward.”
“My point is, and not to discount your feelings or anything, but to this guy, your relationship was a fleeting life experience, something he sulked about for two months tops, and only when he drank beer alone. You’ve dated since then, haven’t you?”
“A little.”
“You need to get back out there. That’s part of forgiveness, giving yourself permission to really move on and be happy with someone. You deserve that.”
I turned to smile at her. “You’re so wise, sis. I’m in awe at how self-possessed you are.”
Krikit jumped when a car door slammed out front. “Crap, Paul’s home. Quick—pretend the house got broken into and robbers burned the chicken, ‘kay?”
“Yeah. Scratch that awe.”
The next evening, I’d texted Meghan from the road that I was stuck behind a wreck and would be arriving back in Pasadena pretty late. I was surprised to see Nick in the hotel’s deserted lounge when I finally rolled in.
“Hey.” I met him under a chandelier made out of deer antlers. He closed his laptop and stood. “I told Meghan for everyone to go to dinner without me. They didn’t wait, did they?”
“Just me.”
“Oh.” So maybe his flirting last night really did have some intention behind it. “Cool.” I smiled, hoping I didn’t look too travel weary. I hooked the strap of my overnight bag over my shoulder.
“Let me take that.”
“Thanks.” I passed him the bag. “Do you know where they went to eat? I can drop off my stuff if you want to meet up with them.”
“I don’t—not really.” He lifted a little smile. “It was pretty noisy with everyone today.”
“Not surprising. We’re a rowdy bunch.” There was a bit of an awkward pause. “Well.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Had my flirting skills already dried up?
“Are you thirsty?” He pointed toward the hotel bar.
“No.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving, actually. I always lose weight when I visit my sister. It’s a nonstop obstacle course.”
Nick laughed and slid one hand in his pocket. “Sounds fun. We should have gone with you. Over here.” He led me toward a couch sectional in the corner of the dim and deserted breakfast dining room. “We can have room service delivered here, if that’s okay.”
“Sounds great. I was dreading going out tonight, too. Just a little.”
“Maybe we both needed a night off.” We sat, separated, each of us on our own couch.
Nick’s blue eyes seemed even brighter today. They squinted a little whenever he smiled at me, making me feel warm and…wanted. Forgive yourself, Krikit had said. Give yourself permission to be happy with someone else. I deserved happiness. I deserved someone who smiled at me—and not just in rearview mirrors. Someone who made me feel warm and waited for me in the hotel lobby under deer antlers.
Thirty minutes later, I was finishing my first half of a turkey wrap while Nick polished off a California club. Still tan from his recent trip to Miami, he’d been telling me how his job flew him from sporting event to sporting event, depending on which he covered for the paper. Sounded glamorous, particularly to someone who was lucky to take two minutes during working hours to look out a window at the foggy bay.
I learned about his family in Omaha. His sisters and his dogs. The summer he backpacked through Italy. As the hours ticked by, and we both reclined, our heads slid to the touching ends of our respective couches, only two armrests apart. He asked about my job and life. It felt nice to talk to someone who seemed interested.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a blue fingernailed hand touched my shoulder.
Meghan hovered over our heads, grinning. “Well, well. What are you guys doing out here?”
“Nothing.” I sat up and smoothed my shirt. Oliver and Sarah stood under the deer antler chandelier. The way Oliver’s eyes were fixed on me gave me the strangest feeling, like I’d been caught doing something inappropriate. “I got in late. We were hanging out.”
“Late?” Meghan arched an eyebrow. “Rach, it’s one a.m.”
Nick was on his feet, too, rubbing the side of his face that had been mushed into the couch. “Rachel was keeping me company since neither of us wanted to fight the, uh, traffic.” He talked to them while looking at me. The twinkle in his eyes made me giddy, like we were in on a secret.
As I fell asleep that night, I had to keep forcing myself to picture how Nick had smiled at me when we’d been waiting for the elevator to take us all up to our rooms, instead of how tense Oliver’s shoulders seemed as he left us to take the stairs.
Chapter Twenty
“I believe I’m officially done drinking for the night.”
Nick propped an elbow on the bar and looked at me through lazy, half-lidded eyes. “It’s only seven o’clock.”
“And we’ve been to eight bars so far.”
“It’s for a good cause. Plus, it gives you a chance to show off your seventies fashion.” He touched the sleeve of my “flower power” T-shirt.
When I’d agreed to the trip—which also meant agreeing to participate in all the festivities, including the twelve-hour pub crawl—I’d forgotten that the theme for this year’
s “Get Happy” festival was Disco Days.
“I think the fates were aligned so I’d miss that entire decade.” I swiveled around on my bar stool and displayed my bright yellow clogs. “I can rock four-inch heels, but these puppies are killing my feet.”
“Your shoes are fab,” Meghan said as she breezed by wearing a tiny lime-green dress and white go-go boots. “They make your entire outfit.” She bumped my arm. “Let’s go, time to crawl, y’all.”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes good-naturedly and slid off the stool.
“Are you cold?” Nick asked after we’d been walking a few blocks. “The tip of your nose is red, and I know it’s not from alcohol. I’ve been monitoring your intake.”
I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand. “I probably should’ve worn something more than a T-shirt.”
“You look cute.” His blue eyes did that cute squinting thing. “Like when we were on the couches the other night.”
I felt an oncoming blush, so I turned to pretend window shop at a closed store. Meghan, Oliver, and the others passed me on our way to the next bar. I saw wind chimes through the store window, and candles, reminding me that I needed to go to Another Time & Place to restock my essential oils when I got home.
“Here.” Nick draped his white polyester Saturday Night Fever jacket across my shoulders. “Keep it ‘til you get back to the hotel.”
His face was so pretty. Women would kill for those cheekbones. “Thanks.” I slid my arms through the sleeves, still warm from his body. “I guess I am cold…was cold.”
He fastened the three buttons of the jacket then put the collar up. “Even cuter.”
When I smiled, my teeth chattered with another shiver. The next thing I knew, Nick’s hands were on my waist and he was pulling me in.
“Better?” he asked, wrapping his arms around me.
I was too caught off guard to reply, so I froze against his chest and kind of patted his sides like I was a TSA agent. He was being so sweet, and he was warm and strong and too pretty for human eyes. It had been a really long time since I’d felt a man’s arms around me, so long that I couldn’t remember what to do.
Someday Maybe Page 13
