Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  “I don’t care!”

  I startle, pulled from my thoughts by the shrill voice coming from the other side of the room. I turn to see Anna standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her hand waving in the air animatedly as she continues her obviously heated discussion over the phone.

  “You know what?” she hisses, her voice low but still clear. “Don’t bother!” She ends the call so forcefully, I’m surprised her French tip didn’t smash straight through the screen. Even from across the room I can see she’s upset. She isn’t crying or anything, but she’s shaking her head and glaring down at her cell phone. The air around her is obviously tense, and I don’t know if I should approach her or give her a moment. I decide on the latter and I give her some time as I take a seat at one of tables and begin scrolling through my phone.

  “Sorry about that.” Anna approaches me after a few minutes, taking a seat next to me.

  “That’s okay.” I smile awkwardly, tucking my phone into the pocket of my pinafore. When I meet her eyes, I notice there’s something there, something unexpected. She’s no longer the confident woman I met that first night. She looks sad, defeated, and maybe even a little broken.

  “Is e-everything okay?” I ask, despite myself.

  I don’t want to care. I wish I could just ignore her emotion, turn and leave with my head held high. But unfortunately, Momma taught me better than that.

  Anna exhales a big dramatic sigh, shaking her head before burying her face in her hands. “No,” she wails into her palms.

  My eyes widen as I watched her fall apart right in front of me. I didn’t actually expect her to open up to me of all people. I’ve literally known her for three and a half days.

  “I need to be honest with you, Murph.” She looks up at me. “I didn’t invite you here to go over the placement of the cake table.”

  I blink at her, sufficiently confused.

  “Oh, everything is terrible, Murph.” She meets my gaze with a combination of fear and horror in her chocolate brown eyes. “Just horrible.”

  Oh, great, here we go. Time for some ridiculous sob story. I wonder what it is now: the wrong color peonies, maybe? Perhaps her hairstylist can’t make it from New York on time to do her hair for the wedding? Poor, poor Anna. My shoulders sag in resignation at the fact that I’m stuck here now with her first-world problems, when I would, in fact, rather be anywhere but here.

  “I’m so scared, Murph,” she continues with a sniffle.

  I duck my head in an attempt to hide my exasperation.

  “I think Nash and I might be making a mistake with this whole wedding,” she wails. “I’m considering calling the whole thing off!”

  And at that, I look up so fast, my eyes bulge. “I’m sorry, but—” I push my glasses up my nose. “What?”

  Chapter 15

  Maybe I’m more supportive than I realized. Maybe I actually care more than I even knew I could care. Maybe I just feel sorry for her. Or, maybe, in my own messed-up way, I’m simply pretending to care so I can get some intel for my own benefit. Whatever the reason, I’m currently stuck listening to Anna bitch and moan while finishing her third glass of Sauvignon Blanc, as we sit out on the patio overlooking the pristine swimming pool of Harrington Country Club.

  “My father isn’t even coming to the wedding,” Anna sobs through a sniffle as I search for the waiter, wondering where our food is. “He’s paying fifty thousand dollars for the damn thing, but he refuses to attend because”— she hiccups through another sob —“he thinks I can do better than Nash.”

  At the mention of Nash, my ears prick, and I momentarily forget about my grumbling stomach. Meeting Anna’s tearful eyes, my own widen before narrowing as anger flashes through me. “Why?” I ask abruptly, my brows pulling together of their own accord. “What’s wrong with Nash?”

  “Nothing!” Anna gapes at me, her face serious. “I love him. He’s perfect.” She sighs. “My father is old money from the Upper East Side. A real New Yorker. He always wanted me to marry a man from his firm, but then I met Nash. I knew I was falling in love with him, but Father did everything he could to try to convince me otherwise.”

  Anna’s father sounds like a real jerk.

  “But this week without him here, knowing he won’t be walking me down the aisle …” She pauses to sniffle again. “It’s been really hard, and I don’t know if I can do it without his blessing.”

  I nod, because I can somewhat relate. I dread my own wedding. I won’t have anyone walking me down the aisle, either. No father, not even my mom.

  “Is your mother gonna be here?” I ask, taking a sip of water.

  A small smile pulls at Anna’s lips, despite the sad look in her eyes, and she nods. “Yes, thank goodness. She arrives on Friday morning. But the thing is, Nash really can’t stand my mother.”

  My brow furrows in confusion at that. It doesn’t seem right. I’ve never known Nash to dislike someone. Unlike me, who can barely tolerate most people, Nash actually likes everyone. There has to be a reason he can’t stand Anna’s mother.

  “Why?”

  “She once told him he needed to dress more appropriately, that sneakers aren’t acceptable outside of the gym. One time, when we were going to have dinner at my father’s members-only club, she made it so uncomfortably obvious that she didn’t like his outfit, he went all the way back downtown to his dorm to change, and then came all the way back uptown to meet us at the club. He was just trying to make a good impression, but even then she chastised him for not ironing his shirt.” She pauses with a shrug. “He says she’s too controlling, and overbearing,” Anna explains with a slight roll of her eyes. “And she is. Both my parents are, but they’re my parents. I can’t help how they are.”

  Finally, the server appears with our food, placing an assortment of starters in the center of our table and stopping to top off our respective wine glasses. I take a sip of my rosé, watching as Anna almost gulps her Sav, and I know there’s a lot more to her frustrations.

  “But you do love Nash, right?” I ask, selecting a shrimp chopstick from one of the plates.

  “Yes, of course I do. Nash is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. He’s my whole world …” She giggles, her eyes glazing over a little before suddenly snapping out of her Nash-induced daze. “But we’re fighting more than we ever have before.” She shakes her head, stuffing a bacon-wrapped scallop in her mouth. “It’s like he’s been different since coming back here,” she manages through a mouthful. “His whole attitude has shifted!” She splutters, morsels of food spraying from the corner of her mouth.

  I press my lips together as my mind begins to wander. Could Nash’s shift in attitude have something to do with me?

  “I’m just beginning to worry that perhaps we’ve rushed into this,” Anna continues before wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I mean, we’ve only known each other a few months. And we’re getting married!” Her eyes are wide with incredulity as she takes another unladylike gulp of her wine. “Nash hasn’t even finished medical school, yet. What if he doesn’t want to stay in New York after he graduates? Or, what if he gets a residency someplace else and has to move?”

  I stare at her, blinking once, wondering if she realizes the core requirement for a marriage is compromise.

  “My home and my heart are in New York City, and I know he hates it there,” she scoffs. “He’s always going on and on about his beloved Graceville, but there’s no way in hell I could live in a place like this.” She shakes her head with another roll of her eyes before looking away for a moment and pressing her lips together. I can tell she’s regretting what she just said, but she brushes it off with a wave of her hand. I try not to feel offended, but I can’t help it. The disdain in her voice is like a slap to the face. As if those south of the Mason-Dixon Line are nothing but low-class.

  “What should I do, Murph?”

  I look up from my wine glass, surprised by her question. She’s actually asking me what to do? Oh, if only you knew, honey. I bite back
my smug smirk, offering a noncommittal shrug of my left shoulder as I throw back the rest of my wine.

  “You’re his best friend.” She looks at me, her eyes imploring. “And you’re a girl. You have to help me!”

  I take the moment to look at her, studying her from her red-rimmed eyes, to her pale cheeks slightly hollowed as if she’s not been eating enough, and I have to say I do feel a little sorry for her. I mean, does she even know Nash and I used to be together? Does she know Nash is the man I was hoping to one day marry? She seems so clueless. So desperate and hopeless, and a little pathetic.

  But my traitorous heart tugs in my chest, reminding me that deep down I am, in fact, human. I don’t know if the woman across the table from me is honestly in love with Nash, but I can tell she’s obviously terrified of losing him and, with that, I can most certainly relate. And right at that moment I realize something: perhaps Anna and I aren’t so different after all. Just two women hopelessly devoted to the same man.

  ***

  Struggling with a grunt and a groan, my back aches in objection as I try and maneuver Anna’s lanky body off the elevator. For a skinny girl no bigger than a size two, she sure weighs a hell of a lot.

  “Come on, Anna,” I hiss, pulling her awkwardly. “This way.”

  “Oh look!” She lunges forward, taking me with her, stopping by the ice machine in the corner of the hall. She giggles to herself, pushing the flap open and sticking almost her whole head inside. “Wow, Murph. It really is cold in here!”

  “Yeah, it’s an ice machine,” I murmur, grabbing her hand and trying to turn her. “Come on.” I wrap my arm around her tiny waist, forcing her with me.

  After lunch, Anna had forced me to go with her to the bar out by the swimming pool where she consumed enough cocktails to take down a full-grown man. She’d been so embarrassing and obnoxious; we’d actually been asked to leave before the dinner rush started to arrive at the club. The moment she began yelling, “Don’t you know who my father is?” I took that as our cue to leave, and practically dragged her skinny butt out of there before she made even bigger fools of the both of us.

  The key she handed me after we’d been kicked out of the bar read three-sixteen. Holding on to Anna as best as I can while she stumbles and sways, I follow the signs on the walls until we come to a stop outside the door to her suite.

  “Whose house is this?” Anna asks, looking around dazed and confused.

  “Oh Lord,” I hiss under my breath as I slide the keycard into the lock. She really is trashed. I can only hope that Nash isn’t back from his fitting with Harley and the guys, yet. That way, I can put her to bed, leave, and pretend as if this afternoon never even happened. But before I can even reach for the handle, the door suddenly swings open. Anna loses what little balance she had, crashing into me, and I would have fallen face first over the threshold if it wasn’t for the strong pair of hands gripping my shoulders and holding me upright.

  “What the hell?”

  I look up, collecting myself and Anna, my eyes widening at the sight of Nash standing there. His eyes glower in the muted light, looking at the both of us before focusing on Anna who’s still giggling like an obnoxious teenager. With a frustrated sigh and a muttered curse, he wraps his arms around his fiancée, effortlessly picking her up, and I watch from the doorway as he carries her through the small living area, continuing to curse under his breath the entire time. They disappear through a doorway to what I assume is the bedroom, and my eyes move to the coffee table, finding it covered in silver room service trays. And it is at that moment that I notice the candles scattered all over, their flickering flames illuminating the otherwise darkened suite.

  Oh no. I immediately feel terrible and really awkward but, just as I consider an exit strategy, Nash returns, his eyes wide as he gapes at me incredulously. “What the hell, Murph?”

  I hold my hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t look at me!” I shake my head. “This was all her idea. I barely even had two glasses of wine. She was the one drinking like it was Spring Break at Panama City Beach!”

  Sighing in defeat, Nash shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder in the direction of the bedroom as if in deep thought.

  “You had plans?” I ask rhetorically, indicating the obviously romantic set-up.

  He looks at me before glancing out over his handiwork. “Yeah,” he scoffs. “We had a fight earlier. I was trying to make it up to her …” He shakes his head again. “What a waste of time.”

  “I’m sorry.” I look down to the floor a moment, feeling guilty even though this is completely Anna’s fault and none of my doing whatsoever.

  “It’s not your fault, Murph,” Nash relents, and I look up to see his face soften as his eyes meet mine. With a shrug, he waves his hand in the direction of the coffee table. “Wanna come in for a glass of overpriced champagne and some chocolate-covered strawberries?” He laughs humorlessly, rolling his eyes.

  I consider his invitation, my eyes flitting to the bedroom door left slightly ajar, where Anna is inside, likely passed out. “I should probably get home.” I point back in the direction I came.

  “Just one drink,” he counters with a hopeful raise of his brows. “I’ve already opened the bottle. It’s gonna get tipped down the sink, otherwise.”

  “Okay.” I hesitate, stepping in from the foyer. “Just one glass.” I close the front door behind me, lingering in the entry as I watch Nash walk into the living area. He pours two glasses, holding one out for me, and I don’t miss the flash of a smile in his eyes. But it’s that smile, and the fact that his wife-to-be is snoring obliviously from the next room, that makes me realize this night can only end badly.

  Chapter 16

  “So, what the hell happened to her?” Nash asks as I take the proffered glass of sparkling wine from him.

  We continue out onto the balcony, overlooking the golf course, and I take a seat on one of the patio chairs, releasing a heavy breath. “She asked me to meet her so we could discuss where to place the wedding cake.” Even as it comes out of my own mouth it sounds like a ridiculous excuse. Nash is watching me with a crease of confusion etched between his brows, so I think it’s best to leave out the part where Anna only really asked me here so she could pick my brain about him and their relationship, and whether or not they should be getting married. “Then, I don’t know.” I shrug. “I guess I could just tell she didn’t look very happy, so I asked her what was wrong, and she told me—” I stop, snapping my mouth shut. I can’t tell him what she told me. It’s not that I care about protecting Anna, but I don’t want Nash to feel betrayed.

  “She told you what?” he presses, staring at me with an imploring expression.

  I shift uncomfortably in my chair, looking out at the view. The sun has disappeared deep into the horizon, and the sky is a spectacular shade of amethyst, with streaks of gold and mauve. It really is beyond beautiful. “Wow! Look at the sky …”

  “Murph?” Nash warns. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

  I sigh, turning to look at him, finding his eyes watching me, waiting. “She just told me about her dad, and her mom,” I continue. “And that … you guys have been arguing since being here in town.” I shake my head dismissively, with a casual shrug. “No big deal.”

  Nash takes a deep breath, and I watch as he looks out over the crystal lake, all the way to the woods in the distance. His mind seems to be working overtime, his jaw clenching tight. I can tell he’s trying to hold in whatever emotion he’s feeling, and I don’t want to push him, so I stay silent. I sip on my wine, enjoying the peacefulness of the evening despite the obvious tension radiating from Nash. But then he suddenly turns to me. His eyes narrow as he hesitates with whatever he is going to say—whatever he’s trying to say—and, for a moment, he seems to be considering what to say.

  “What is it?” I encourage him.

  “It’s just being back here. In this place.” He shakes his head, hunched over, his elbows resting upon his knees as he looks down a
t his glass. “There’s something about this damn place. I hate it so much because it reminds me of all the bad, but …” He stops, finally looking up at me, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth, and there’s something in his eyes, something in the way that he’s looking at me.

  “B-but what?” I ask so quietly my voice is almost swept away in the soft evening breeze.

  “This place has a hold on me.” He sighs heavily, breaking our heavy gaze and looking back out over the view before us. “Being here, it’s as if I’m right back where I was, before New York, before college, before Anna.” His eyes flit to mine at the mention of her, and I press my lips together, because I think I know what he’s saying. “As much as I hate this place, I miss it like crazy when I’m back.”

  I swallow hard, looking down at my own glass.

  “I guess I just didn’t know how it would feel having my new life and my old life collide like this. Having Anna here, in my home, where so much happened that she’ll never even begin to understand. Coming back to you and Harley suddenly together. Everything’s changed, and … I don’t know. It’s just giving me all these confusing feelings.”

  I look at him. Really look at him. I notice just how torn he really does look, and, for the first time, I think I understand why, because I feel the same way. “A lot has changed, Nash,” I say. “And, I get it. You went away, and your whole life is different, now. Hell, you’ve changed, whether you want to admit it or not. And, you expected to come back to the same old place, but—” I shrug. “It’s not the same old place. Sure, the streets might look the same, but while you’ve been away, we’ve all changed. Harley has the bar. I’m running Momma’s bakery. I’ve given up a hell of a lot, staying here, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.”