Chapter 4
chapter
four
MAREN
“I need a drink,” I mumble to the group and make a beeline for the courtyard. The click of my heels grows more and more clumsy the closer I get to fresh air—and booze.
Another reason I shouldn’t have worn these stupid shoes. They don’t make for a quick getaway.
Outside, a few high-tops are evenly spread among the small space. Various flower arrangements of pansies and other types I don’t recognize add the perfect splashes of color, and the house’s normal setup does the rest.
The Buchanan House is a treasure in itself and required very little décor, although Addie did a good job of tossing just enough school spirit into the mix to complement its natural state.
With a flute of champagne in one hand, I gravitate toward an empty table.
A light reflects off a glossy photo near the center, and I finger the edge of it, studying the people in it with fondness.
It’s an old shot of our cheerleaders at a football game, with Caroline at the top of the pyramid.
She was the head cheerleader—and the most spirited person I knew.
We were opposites in that regard, but our friendship was deeply rooted in so many other ways.
Next to that picture is one of Nate and me at prom.
His boutonniere matched my studded mauve dress, which flowed just past my knees.
My mom had helped me pick it out. When we found it, it was too big around the bust, and while I panicked over having to forgo “the one,” she simply cupped my cheek and promised to fix it.
She’d stayed up late one night to take in the material, and the next morning when I found it hanging in my closet, it fit so perfectly I nearly cried.
It felt like I’d put on a wedding dress, especially when I saw the look in Nate’s eyes as they drank me in that night.
At the time, I was touched by my mom’s generosity, but thinking back now that she’s gone, it means that much more. She’ll never help me pick out an actual wedding dress, not that I’ll be getting married soon—or ever.
But I’ll always have the special experience of that prom.
With tears stinging the backs of my eyes, I tuck the photo into my clutch.
I can cut Nate out of it when I get home.
“Shrimp cocktail?” A server presents a tray of appetizers, and I gladly accept three.
I’ve downed two of the appetizers by the time Caroline and Addie find me in the corner of the reunion.
“What is going on with you?” Addie lifts a brow at me.
“What? I like shrimp.”
Wincing, she swipes at the tip of her nose. “Then could you keep it in your mouth and not on my face?”
“Oops. Sorry.” I shrug, then stuff another into my mouth.
I’m mid chew when Nate appears in the courtyard, his suit draped so sinfully over his manly, chiseled physique.
I’d sell my left tit to bust his shirt open with my teeth. To make the buttons fly in all directions and land on the hard floor with satisfying ticks. Then I’d drag my tongue from the base of his throat, down the valley of his chest, along the grooves of his abs.
I swallow my last shrimp, hoping my unwelcomed feelings go down with it.
I’m not that girl. The kind who gets lost in dirty fantasies anytime a gorgeous man crosses my path.
But that’s the problem—Nate isn’t just any man. He never has been, not then and definitely not now. He was always gorgeous, but the last ten years have been far too good to him in the looks department. Time has treated him like fucking royalty.
These people treat him like a king, that’s for sure. They clap him on the back like he’s a movie star on a red carpet. I wouldn’t be surprised if they yelled, “Who are you wearing tonight?”
Even the married women steal glances his way while standing next to their husbands, and the single ladies openly undress him with their eyes while blushing and giggling into their drinks.
It feels like old times, indeed, only I too am pathetically ogling him from the sidelines.
I throw back the rest of my drink and savor the bubbles, my tongue temporarily numb from the generous sip. Scoffing, I turn back to my friends. “Nate looks better than ever, and I fucking hate him for it.”
“I hate his stupid chest tattoo,” Addie adds. “Like, he should button his shirt all the way to the top and cover that shit up, am I right?”
“Totally.” Caroline nods too hard to be natural.
It’s obvious that they’re roasting him for my benefit. Even so, I appreciate the solidarity.
“The ass.” I snatch another flute of champagne from a passing waiter and suck back a gulp.
Addie’s gaze drifts toward none other than Owen Conrad as Caroline flashes me a grin. “Your bangs are banging tonight, by the way. The middle part suits you.”
“Oh my God, yes.” Addie jerks her focus back to us. “You and curtain bangs go together better than… than… shrimp and cocktail sauce.”
“Thanks. I think.” I snort into my glass, already dreading when Caroline has to go home to New York. A few days with her hasn’t been enough.
I’ll still have Addie, but there’s something extra special about having our third with us.
“Can I steal you away for a second?” Nate says, suddenly appearing beside me.
I blink at the girls as our triangle transforms into a square.
“Um,” I say, my heart pounding erratically like the time I was momentarily trapped in an elevator.
My eyes widen, silently pleading for help from Addie or Caroline. Maybe they could fake a heart attack.
But neither of them comes to my rescue. Instead of reading the panic in my expression, they dip their heads in sync and pretend to sip—from their empty glasses.
“I need to talk to you about something.” Nate skims his bottom lip with his teeth, nearly biting it, and it’s all I can do not to choke on my next breath alone.
“Sure,” I manage.
But I don’t immediately move, nor do I dispose of my drink very quickly, like my fingers are glued to the stem. I’m still waiting for my friends to fake a medical emergency, and when they don’t, I pin them under my most lethal glare as I follow Nate.
Everything feels tight—my heels, my dress, my chest.
It’s like my heart is trying to crawl out of its cage.
At the edge of the makeshift dance floor, I halt. “We can, um, talk right here.”
The corner of Nate’s mouth quirks. “Come on.” He tilts his head toward the swaying couples. “Let’s dance.”
“Dance?”
“Yes.” His lips curl into a drop-dead, sexy grin. “That’s what you call what they’re doing.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
The chuckle he releases is low and airy as he nods toward the dance floor again. “For old time’s sake, huh?”
“Fine,” I clip.
This doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’s just a dance, not a mating ritual.
With a deep breath, I let Nate splay his fingers across my lower back, where he bunches the material of my dress in his grip. I step farther into his embrace until my heart pounds against his, but my hands feel like lead. It takes great effort to lift them and place them onto his shoulders.
The tune of the violin is easy and calm, but I’m neither. As much as it would be nice—pleasant, even—to enjoy a moment with Nate, for old time’s sake, as he says, I shouldn’t let myself fully fall into his arms.
But muscle memory is a bitch, and on instinct, I rest my forehead against Nate’s chest. He doesn’t miss a beat and places his chin on top of my head.
It’s how we always used to dance.
The nostalgia jerks at my heartstrings, and the pressure causes a build-up of tears behind my eyes.
God, why does this man still hold so much power over me?
“You look fantastic,” he rasps and clears his throat. Is it safe to assume he’s affected by me too? Wouldn’t that be something?
“You look good too,” I offer, even though what I’d really like to say is that on a scale of one to letting him fuck me on a seesaw in the middle of the park in town… he’s closer to the latter.
Which is insane to even think about.
It just goes to show how long it’s been since I’ve been properly railed. That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. It’s been too long for me, and the fact that I’m surrounded by my teenage life doesn’t help matters. It’s only natural to revert to old ways where Nate is concerned.
But he’s leaving. I have that much to lean on for relief.
“You never did get married, huh?” he asks.
I open and close my eyes, my eyelashes fluttering against his crisp shirt, and I tilt my head back to peer up at him. Even in my heels, he’s still a couple inches taller. “Do I look like I’ve never been married?”
“Of course not. What would that even look like?” His chuckle is forced, like he’s trying to smooth over any hint that he’s offended me—bless his heart. “My mom mentioned it the other day.”
Oh, right.
If Evie’s been spilling the beans, then surely, she’s informed him that I’m not seeing anyone, nor have I gone on a date in over a year.
This is what happens when people remain close friends with their exes’ parents; there’s no hiding how pathetic their love life is.
“Marriage isn’t for everyone,” I say absentmindedly.
He lifts a brow, clearly surprised. “That’s not what you used to think.”
I purse my lips.
How do I tell him that it’s something I haven’t wanted since I was eighteen? Not since he broke up with me.
After that, I was too heartbroken to consider anyone else, but also, I was too busy caring for my mother before she passed, opening and running my own business, and then throwing myself into my sister Dixie’s wedding and her relocation to Savannah.
I haven’t had time to consider romance or any kind of happily ever after for myself, if such a thing is even plausible.
“Well, let’s just say, if Chris Evans popped into town and dropped to one knee, I’d be all for marriage,” I joke, desperately attempting to wiggle my way out of his loaded question.
Nate’s chuckle is breezy this time. It lights up his usually dark features, and the sunny sound reaches my ears in melodic waves that bring with it a swarm of warm, fuzzy, ooey-gooey flutters in my lower stomach.
I force a swallow and inch backward. “Anyway, um… thanks for the dance.”
But he doesn’t let go.
His hands remain firmly on my lower back as my fingers slide down the arms of his suit jacket.
“I’m moving back.”
Loud ringing in my ears makes me wince. What did he just say?
“That’s the real reason I’m here this weekend,” Nate stammers, and then his next words are rushed like he’s running out of time. “Sabrina’s temporarily relocating, and she agreed to let Teagan move out of California with me.”
I muster all the strength I possess not to flinch at the mention of her. I hate how casually her name falls from his lips. How natural and easy, like he says it often.
I assume he does, given how integral she is to his life, and I hate that too.
Nate dips his head to meet my gaze. “I bought my parents’ house. Teagan and I will move in at the end of the month, and we’ll be neighbors again.”
The ringing in my ears grows louder as if I just left a rock concert.
I’m acutely aware of the moment he begins toying with the fabric of my dress.
The circular motions feel idle and unintentional, like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, as he launches into all the reasons this move is exciting and much-needed.
More family for Teagan.
A loving community.
Slower pace of life.
I barely hear any of that, let alone anything else he says.
Neighbors? Nathan McAllister is going to be my neighbor again?
I thought he’d be leaving. He was supposed to leave as soon as tomorrow. It’s what he does—rolls into town for a few days, then rolls right on out.
He’s not supposed to stay!
I untangle myself from him, my movements in slow motion as my mind scrambles to catch up with what’s happening.
My shallow breaths echo alongside the incessant ringing in my ears.
In my periphery, I manage to recognize Caroline shuffling toward the back of the courtyard, her previously rosy cheeks now pale like the time we walked through a haunted cemetery.
“What do you think?” Nate’s fingertips skim my arm, but I step away.
“I think…”
He gently nudges my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
It feels like I nod. “I need to check on Caroline,” I tell him, and I practically sprint toward my friend.
With my mind a mess, I somehow catch up to her and grasp her by the elbow. “What’s going on?”
“I, um…” Caroline swipes the smudged mascara from the corner of her eye, which is when I realize she’s crying.
This is the look of heartbreak—I know it well.
“Why are guys so frustrating?” She scoffs.
“What happened with Austin?” I ask, treading carefully. They clearly had a fight, and she does not need to know my exact, cruel thoughts about men right now.
Not after what Nate just said.
My gaze snags on him at the bar. He leans one elbow on it and sips champagne while chatting with another classmate.
He’s too calm and collected. Everything I’m not after his little announcement. It causes rage to surge through my nervous system.
It’s not fucking fair for him to be so cool after the bomb he delivered, while my mind and body descend into chaos.
“I thought we were on the same page, but I was so wrong.” Caroline’s voice cracks. “Guess I’ll be getting back to New York sooner than I thought.”
I’m not one for such a sentiment, but this moment calls for a hug, especially since words fail me.
Over her shoulder, I catch Addie flying into the courtyard, and a dash of relief eases some of my concern. She’s pep talk pro—much better than I am—so she’ll know what to say.
Except, when she approaches, I realize she may not be much help, after all. There’s a knot on the side of her hair, and her lipstick is smeared in one corner. Her neck is flushed too.
That’s when I spot Owen sauntering outside, his smile more smug than ever as he whistles to the rhythm of his easy steps.
What have they been up to?
Are we in some kind of twilight zone? What is happening tonight? Ever since the sun set, it’s been one bizarre occurrence after another.
If I could ask my old magic 8 ball one question right now, it would be—is the universe out to get us? Because it really needs to explain itself for the sake of all three of our hearts.