23. Hildy
Hildy
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
TAMNIèS, France—“I’ve been thinking,” Walter said when he joined Hildy at breakfast the next morning. “If we’re really going to make this work, we need to lock in.”
The smile Hildy had practiced in the mirror last night faded. “We’re having breakfast together. You don’t have a fork sticking out of the back of your hand. I’d call that a win.”
“I think we need to go deeper.”
“Is that supposed to be a double entendre?”
“No, Hildy.”
“Good, because I haven’t had enough coffee for that. I’m not sure there’s enough coffee in the world.” She gazed thoughtfully into the distance. The lack of eye contact made it easier to pretend last night had never happened.
“I’m talking about having an honest and open conversation,” he persisted.
“About?”
“Us.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Our relationship.”
She raised her sunglasses so he could see her brows arch.
“Whatever you want to call it. The past. Our history.”
“And you think that’s going to smooth out the kinks? Also not a double entendre,” she added, before he could ask.
“I’m hopeful, yes.”
Hildy shook her head. She’d never pegged Walter as a wide-eyed idealist. Maybe he was on new meds.
“I disagree,” she said with great restraint and maturity. Had he met the two of them? Giving airtime to all their grievances would be like bringing two toddlers and a box of Sharpies to the Museum of Modern Art.
He reached past her for the sugar, keeping both his expression and his tone perfectly pleasant. “It’s not a one-woman show, Hildy.”
“It’s not Wrestlemania either. We haven’t even gotten through one breakfast, and you want to do freestyle couple’s therapy?”
“Interesting.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What is?”
“That you used the word ‘couple.’”
“Let me guess. Your amateur psychoanalysis is also going to help us pretend to get along?”
Walter shrugged. “It might.”
“Alternative proposal.”
He gestured for her to proceed.
“Act like we just met. Blank slate.” Hildy pinched the rim of her white plate, angling it toward Walter as a visual aid. It would have been more effective without the crumbs, scrapes of butter, and smears of purple-red jam, but presumably he got the point.
“I don’t know.”
“Tell you what. While you think about it, I’ll fix you some breakfast.” She pushed back her chair, ignoring Walter’s wary expression. On her way to the buffet, Hildy bent to whisper in his ear. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to spit on it.”
She took her time selecting an assortment of fresh fruit and pastries. When she returned to the table, Hildy presented it to him with a flourish.
“Ta-da!”
He frowned at the plate. “Are those raisins?”
“It’s a pain aux raisins, yes.”
Walter looked up. “I hate raisins.”
“Really?” She pursed her lips, pretending to be surprised. “That’s too bad.”
“And pineapple makes my tongue itch.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a delicate flower. I guess that’s what comes from being total strangers who just met at this destination wedding.”
“That’s funny.”
“What is?”
“For someone who just met me, you have an uncanny knack for choosing all my least favorite foods.”
“That is funny.”
Walter nodded. “Fuzzy apricots, no thank you. Pineapple and raisins, we’ve covered. What’s this?” He pointed at a white blob.
“Plain yogurt.”
“Sour dairy. Yum. Definitely wouldn’t want to put any honey on that to make it more palatable.”
She beamed at him. “You have to admit, it’s kind of impressive.”
“For sure,” he agreed. “Who knew you were this obsessed with me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. It was a prank.”
“And yet to know my tastes that well, you’d have to be paying extremely close attention.”
Hildy concentrated on breathing in and out through her nose while she scrambled for a response. “It’s like they say. Keep your enemies close.”
He smiled to show he wasn’t fooled. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can admit when you’ve been outplayed.”
“Fine. Whatever. You win.”
“For my prize—”
“Who said anything about prizes?”
“I did.” He studied her face, like he was gauging how much he could get away with.
Hildy felt heat bloom beneath her skin. Was he going to kiss her again?
She supposed she could allow it on the grounds that it would help sell the story of their shiny, happy reconciliation.
Assuming they didn’t get carried away and wind up tearing each other’s clothes off on this wrought-iron table.
“For my prize,” he repeated, “I get to ask you one question.”
“What? No. I’d rather let you trim my bangs.”
“Just truth, no dares. You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of you? Ha.” She dragged his plate to her side of the table so she could eat the offending pineapple. “Go ahead. Bring up something awkward and upsetting from our past. What could possibly go wrong?”
Walter didn’t waste any time. “I’ll start with an easy one. Why didn’t you call me after we … ran into each other at the awards banquet?”
“Uh, because I was embarrassed.”
“That you kissed me?” He asked like it was a foregone conclusion.
“That I kissed anyone! It wasn’t spring break in Daytona. We were at a work event, and I have a reputation to uphold.” She huffed at his presumption. “Way to make it about you.”
Though of course it was a thousand times worse that she’d thrown herself at Walter. She needed to be in full fighting form around him, not floppy and half naked like a lust-crazed snail without its shell. “Why didn’t you call me, Mr. Hard-Hitting Questions?”
“You made it pretty clear you were done with me.”
She would have argued the point, but Hildy’s memory was not 100 percent clear on that front. The fog of war and all that. “What time is it?”
Walter glanced at his watch, the actual ticking kind with a leather strap and no smart features. It looked annoyingly good on his stupidly masculine wrist. “Apparently it’s avoiding the subject o’clock.”
“We have a big day ahead, Walter. I don’t want to inconvenience our hosts by being late. Speaking of which, there’s Fiona and Robbie now.”
Walter rolled his eyes like he couldn’t believe she’d resorted to such a weak evasion, but the joke was on him because the happy couple really were standing behind him.
“Look,” Fiona announced, wiggling her left hand to show off a matching set of blush-pink acrylics. “Good as new!”
Hildy put a hand to her heart, deeply relieved the damage wasn’t permanent. “All’s well that ends well!”
Fiona nodded. “And the fact that it was my ring finger is a total coincidence that doesn’t mean anything bad. So there’s no need to worry it was a sign from the cosmos or anything.”
“Only good vibes.” Robbie held up his hand for a high five before thinking better of it and gently pressing a kiss to Fiona’s knuckles instead.
“Aww, babe,” Fiona cooed. “That’s so sweet.”
“Didn’t want to mess up your nails.”
Hildy lowered her eyes to let them have their little moment, but it was a wasted effort. Elsewhere on the terrace, a table full of wedding guests were tapping their silverware against their coffee cups. Fiona and Robbie obliged with another kiss.
“It’s like we’re dogs,” Robbie said, keeping his voice low. “Everybody wants us to show off our one trick.”
“Next they’ll be asking us to fetch,” Fiona jumped in.
“I wish! More like ‘sit.’ ‘Stay.’ ‘Good boy.’” Robbie huffed at the ridiculousness of the idea, but he wasn’t far off.
Between the ceremony, the pictures, and the reception, there was quite a bit of enforced stillness in his future.
Hildy opted not to bring that to his attention, since being the bearer of bad news didn’t really suit the sunshiny mood she was supposed to be selling.
“At least we get to go on an adventure first,” Fiona reminded Robbie. “Deep underground in a spooky cave!”
Hildy set down the pastry she’d just stolen from Walter’s plate. “How deep are we talking?”
“What she really wants to know is how spooky,” Walter translated, while filching one of Hildy’s strawberries.
Annoyance flickered faintly, both for the strawberry and his casual I-know-things-about-Hildy flex.
She could have gotten over that phobia years ago.
Maybe catacombs and crypts and other subterranean spaces less directly associated with death were totally her scene now. Walter had no business acting like—
Except he does, she reminded herself, because they were buddies now. At least while other people were watching.
“It’s totally safe,” Fiona assured her. “Little kids can do it. You ride a cute little train. It’s not like ropes and crawling through tight spots and ‘oh my God, is there enough oxygen down here?’ Remember Belize?” she asked Robbie.
Hildy stared while the two of them had a good laugh at what sounded like a near-death experience. “What about bats?”
“Worried about your hair?” Walter teased, as if Hildy were being irrational. She’d like to see his reaction if a flying rodent crapped on his head.
“The only thing you have to worry about is getting cold,” Fiona said. “It’s a lot cooler underground, so definitely bring a light sweater.”
“Or a cardigan.” Robbie looked proud of himself for knowing the word, beaming at all of them as he slung an arm around his fiancée’s shoulders. “You’re a really good hostess, Fee. Everyone is having a great time.”
“You think?” she asked hopefully.
He squeezed her closer to his side. “No doubt.”
“I was afraid the situation with who’s doing the story might be causing some tension.” Fiona wrinkled her nose in a silent apology. “Yesterday it seemed like maybe you two were a little grumpy with each other.”
Hildy felt like a jerk for assuming Fiona was only concerned about her manicure. “Don’t worry about that. The story is the least of our problems.”
“Competing for a great scoop is what we do,” Walter agreed. “It gives spice to our lives.”
“In a professional sense,” Hildy added.
They reached for the last strawberry at the same time. Walter’s hand settled over hers, a warm weight.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“That’s okay. You can have it.” Before she could withdraw her hand, the pads of his fingers skimmed her knuckles.
“Thanks, Hildycakes.” He stared into her eyes as he took a bite. “You’re so good to me. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Clearly he was messing with her. First the unsanctioned pet name, then the suggestive fruit eating, and now the final twist of the knife. Even Hildy would have a hard time arguing that she’d been a positive presence in his life. She stood so abruptly the dishes rattled on the table.
“I’m going to grab something for the cave.” Like a Xanax. “I’ll meet you at the bus.”
“I’ll save you a seat,” Walter promised.
Hildy had a feeling he would have blown her a kiss if she hadn’t kept her eyes down as she tucked in her chair and turned away, trying not to look like she was fleeing the scene.