My One and Only

“Much better. Here. Let me untangle your hair, at least. If we need to run, we can’t have you stuck.”

“I don’t think Bob’s up for running,” I said.

“Then you’ll take my horse.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll stay here and whittle a sword and kill the bear or, if that doesn’t work, I’ll just be eaten alive, happily sacrificing my life for yours.” He gave me a look. “Or I’ll just stay on the horse and you can sit behind me. Satan can hold two, I’m sure.”

“Oh, so you’re a cowboy now? I wasn’t aware that architects were also masters of horseflesh. You and Satan BFFs now? Practiced your stunt-riding this morning?”

“My dad gave me a few lessons.”

“When? When you were six?”

“Well, you know, Harper, maybe we should just stay here and bicker until the bear can’t stand it anymore and kills us both. Would that make you happy?”

He moved Satan closer to my shuddering steed, reached over and began working on the task at hand, tugging my hair gently. His body blocked my view of the grizzly, which worried me, as neither of us could see the bear right now, but my options were somewhat limited. I took a shaky breath, inhaling Nick’s familiar, spicy smell. Twelve years, and I bet I could’ve picked him out of a dark room full of men. I’d always loved to burrow under the covers with Nick. Always loved his warmth, his skin, the little scar over his heart where Jason had shot him with an arrow when they were eleven. Nick hadn’t shaved this morning. I could see the pulse in his neck beating fast. So he was scared, too. But he was here.

“There. You’re free.”

His face was very close to mine. Those dark, dark brown eyes…damn. They always held so…much. So much humor, so much disappointment, so much hope. It had always been a devastating combination.

Just then the bear stood on its massive hind legs, and terror, true, blinding terror, blanked out every conscious thought. Nick and I both lurched in our saddles, me pushing him away, him trying to pull me onto his horse, ever at odds with each other.

“Nick, get out of here! Go, go!”

“Get on my horse, hurry up. Shit, being eaten by a bear is not how I saw us ending up.”

“Stop talking! Just go, get out of here. You can make it, your horse is fast, go!”

“I’m not leaving you, but could you hurry up before we’re Smokey’s afternoon snack?”

“I can’t, you’re—”

And then the bear dropped back to all fours, preparing to charge. I clutched Nick’s arms. “I’m so sorry,” I said, surprising myself with the words. Your last words, some quiet part of my brain informed me. We’re going to die. “Nick, I’m so, so sorry.”

He looked at me then. Nick had always been able to stop time somehow. When he’d looked directly into my eyes, when he wasn’t goofing around or snarking or fighting with me, the world seemed to stop as some sort of gypsy magic took root. Even now. Even when we were about to be eaten.

“I never stopped loving you, Harper,” he said gently.

Oh, God. My heart stopped. The bear wouldn’t need to kill me, because those words…they just mowed me down. It’s official. He’d say that only if death were imminent. His face…not a bad last thing to see. My breath caught. “Okay,” I whispered.

A second or two passed. Nick pulled back slightly. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“‘Okay’? That’s all you have to say? We’re about to be mauled, I tell you I love you and all you—”

“Oh, good, it’s leaving,” I said.

Sure enough, the bear…the bear was shambling away, back down the trail. It seemed—dare I say it?—bored.

Nick stared after it. His arms fell away from me. We watched the bear’s large backside sway as it walked away—very calmly—down the horse trail, the distance between us stretching farther…twenty yards, twenty-five, thirty. And then it was gone. We waited. Nothing happened. We waited some more. A long line of drilling came from an unseen woodpecker. Bob dropped his head to the forest floor and began to nibble at some moss. Satan sighed.

“Well,” Nick said, sounding almost surprised. “No harm done, then.”

Delayed fear now put in an appearance, and my arms and legs began to shake. “Should we wait a minute?” I asked.

“I say we should get the hell out of here,” Nick answered. He looked at me, swallowed. “You okay?”

I nodded, looking around. No more bears—not that I could see, anyway. “I’m fine.” I forced myself to look back at my ex-husband. For a long, heart-rolling moment, we just stared at each other.

He came back for you.

“Thank you, Nick.” Then I leaned over and kissed his cheek “Thanks.”

His face flushed, and he looked away. “Whatever. Couldn’t keep hating you if you were tragically killed.”

I smiled. “I thought you never stopped loving me.”

“You can only really hate the ones you love.”

“That’s beautiful. Does Hallmark have a line for that?”

He gave me a look. “Stunted.”

He came back for you. He risked his life for you. My ex-husband put himself between a grizzly bear and my person. He could say whatever he wanted. It just wouldn’t be cool to use those words for any purpose whatsoever.

“Thanks again,” I said.

“We’d better catch up to the others,” Nick said, not looking at me, and without further ado, he nudged Satan back onto the path. Bob followed, back to his leaf-snatching ways, his earlier terror (and cowardice) apparently forgotten.

For a while, we just rode, side by side, not talking. Clearly the others weren’t concerned…my guess was we were a half hour behind them. For now it was just us, and the squeak of the saddles, the noise of the horses, the constant birdsong and the big sky above us.

“So Emily seems nice,” I said.

“She is,” he said. “Very nice girl.”

“You guys dating?”

“Nope.”

I glanced at him, but he was staring ahead. “I think she’s got a crush on the boss.” No answer. “You dating anyone these days?”

“Not at the moment.” He deigned to glance at me. “So. Dennis. An interesting choice for you, Harpy. Not completely unexpected, of course.”

“Why is that?” I asked. “Because he’s a tall, brawny firefighter? I am a woman, you know.”

“So they say. No, it’s just interesting that you picked someone like…that.”

“Like what? Tell me, Nick, since you’re an expert on Dennis, having known him for less than a day,” I said coolly.

“Happy so long as he’s fed and doesn’t think too much. Scratch his itchy spot, and he’s yours forever.” He gave me a mocking look.

I didn’t answer. Nick was wrong, of course. I’d scratched Den’s itchy spot, but I still wasn’t engaged. Not that I’d reveal anything to Nick. The saddle leather squeaked. A rabbit ran across the path, and Nick and I both jumped, then pretended we didn’t. “We’ve been together almost three years,” I said mildly, stretching my time with Dennis just a bit. “Same amount of time you and I were together.”

“I’m well aware of how long we were together.”

“And maybe I love him.”

“Sure,” he said, clearly unimpressed. “What number is Dennis?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I just imagine a lot of bodies in your rearview mirror, Harpy.”

Ooh. “Actually, he’s my first serious relationship since you, darling first husband.”

“Took you that long to get over me?”

Actually, yes. “Hardly,” I said. “I’m just pointing out that you like to make assumptions about me so I’ll fit into your world view.”

He sliced a razor blade of a look my way. “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind, Harper?”

I jerked Bob’s head away from a cluster of bright yellow aspen leaves that jutted out into the path. “You script things a certain way, that’s all,” I said calmly. “When we were married, you were the dedicated young architect who’s heartbroken to find that his commitment-phobic wife was, by your definition, at least, unfaithful. Details and facts are irrelevant—your opinion is the only one that matters. Nick, the noble wounded. Harper, the icy bitch.”

“Oh, so you were completely blameless?”

“I’d admit to, I don’t know…thirty percent of the responsibility for our implosion.”

“Yes. Blame me by all means,” he said, rolling his eyes. “God knows I was such a bastard, working toward our future, supporting us, adoring you—”

“Adoring? Is that what it was? See, I was thinking ignoring. Sounds like adoring, but quite different, in fact.”

From up ahead came the sound of voices. The rest of the gang, no doubt.

“Harper,” Nick said, pulling Satan to a stop, “I want you to do something for me.”

Bob stopped also, his head dropping so precipitously that I almost slid down his neck. “What’s that, Nick?”

“Leave Chris and Willa alone, okay? Don’t…infect them.”

Bull’s-eye. I tried not to flinch, but his words clamped down hard on my heart. I didn’t say anything. “What I mean is,” Nick continued almost gently, “you’re cynical, Harper. You don’t believe in commitment. Your whole job is splitting up couples—”

“See, that’s just ignorant, Nick, not to mention clichéd and unfair,” I answered hotly. “I don’t split anyone up. They’re already apart. I facilitate a legal process, get a fair settlement for my clients and guide them through a difficult time of life. I have absolutely nothing to do with the failure of marriage.”

“Except ours.”

“Yes. Except ours. Takes two to tango, though, Nicholas, dear.”

We stared at each other for a stony minute. This time, Nick was the first to look away. “Whatever,” he grunted. “But listen. Christopher’s had a rough time in the past few years. Willa’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s crazy about her, and the feeling seems to be mutual. Can you just leave them alone and let them sink or swim on their own?”

“Rough time how?”

“Let him tell you himself, if he wants to. Or let Willa. But Harper…leave them alone. Okay?”

“It’s just that—”

“Harper,” he said, his voice fast and hot. “I came back for you today. I was willing to let Gentle Ben eat me instead of you. Can you please do me this one favor?”

Those gypsy eyes were angry. And he had a point.

“Okay,” I said grudgingly. “But if Willa asks me for advice, I’m going to tell her what I think.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and with that, he kicked Satan into a canter and left me to wake my dozing horse and join the others.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE MAID OF HONOR HAD some very impressive circles under her eyes the next day. I woke up early—well, I’d been waking up all night, Nick’s voice echoing in my head. I never stopped loving you. Don’t infect them. Et cetera. At five-thirty, I tiptoed out of my room to the sound of Dennis’s gentle snoring, Coco in my arms. My little dog and I took a long walk along the quiet lake, watching the mist rise silently off the water, the pines dark and wise. A bald eagle swooped silently down and snatched a fish from the water with barely a splash, then disappeared again into the clouds.

I never stopped loving you.

Crotch.

Well, I thought briskly, Nick’s feelings were what they were. True or not, they didn’t really have anything to do with my life anymore. Soon I’d be back on the Vineyard, and Nick would be safely relegated once more to the land of memory.

As I walked back toward the Swiss chalet-style lodge, I saw a lone figure standing on the shore. It was Nick. Before he could see me, I dodged to the other side of the path and went in the front entrance, avoiding him, and continued to avoid him all through breakfast. Master of evasion, that was me. After the meal, I claimed the need to work—not a lie—and wrote a brief for one of my coworkers and emailed clients as well as Kim and Father Bruce. I sent Tommy a “keep your chin up” note, updated a few files…stalled, in other words, until it was time to get ready for the ceremony.

I made sure Coco had her bunny right next to her on my bed, smooched her tiny head and offered her several bribes in the form of the bacon I’d swiped at breakfast. Then I lugged my dress down to Willa’s suite, smiling automatically at the other guests I passed in the hall. Everyone was hurrying downstairs…the wedding was supposed to take place on the patio of the lodge, in front of the achingly blue lake, the clear wind and ragged mountains bearing witness as eagles soared, yadda yadda ad infinitum.

That had been the idea, anyway; Mother Nature had other plans in the form of, as BeverLee put it, a “blue-norther,” or, to the rest of us who weren’t from the Lone Star State, a huge rainstorm. One could almost say it was a sign. At the moment, the staff of the lodge and a few wedding guests were dragging in the chairs and tables before everything was hopelessly drenched.

“Here you are! Come on, sweet knees, come on, get in that dress. Oh, you got purple, that’s just fine, Harper. Good girl.” BeverLee swept me into Willa’s room and practically kicked me into the bathroom to change.