I realize I’ve actually never seen the Lancolm siblings fight. Mostly, they just seemed to coexist in a chill way, like two cats sharing the same sunny windowsill.
Maybe it’s because they lost their mom at a young age. I’m sure it forms a bond that I’ll never quite understand.
I watch as Cara shakes her head, looking exasperated by their exchange. I wonder if the stress of planning a wedding is actually starting to get to her.
I grab a glass and fill it with lemonade, then step out onto the porch and make my way across the lawn to the gazebo. The tinny radio playing country music drowns out most of what they’re saying, but halfway there, I’m close enough to hear Nate say, “Drop it, Cara. I’m telling you it’s not any of your business.”
“But—” she starts.
“No,” Nate interrupts and looks pointedly over Cara’s shoulder at me. She turns and something flickers across her face.
“I’ve gotta go… work on the seating chart.” She offers me a small smile and hurries back to the house.
I watch her leave, not bothering to point out that the seating chart’s been final since last Tuesday’s lunch meeting—and has since been immortalized on place cards in Linney’s perfect handwriting.
Beside me, Nate resumes his measuring.
“So,” I start, feeling awkward. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” he says without looking up.
“Didn’t seem like nothing. Is there an issue with her and Cooper?”
“She wasn’t arguing with Cooper, she was arguing withme,” he points out.
“So youwerearguing.”
He shrugs, and the way he’s avoiding eye contact is making me nervous. “Just a sibling spat. They happen.”
But what would Cara be upset about with Nate, other than…“Oh. She doesn’t… suspect, does she?”
“Suspect?”
“You know… aboutus…” I feel weird just sayingus—when there is so much more that needs to be said. “That’s why I snuck out last night,” I say, a little apologetically, “so no one would notice I wasn’t in my room. Or, you know, my closet.” I grin, but Nate doesn’t match it.
He just shakes his head and keeps his focus on the work. “Don’t worry about that.” He tucks his pencil behind his ear and pulls out a nail from the pouch at his waist.
Does he mean,don’t worry, Cara doesn’t know about us? Ordon’t worry, I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you left before dawn after we slept together?
Judging by his aloof vibe, I’m going to have to go with the second.
Holding the nail in place with one hand, he grabs his hammer from a loop in his jeans with the other and starts banging it into place.
“Um, okay. Well, that’s good.” I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about their argument.
Or aboutus.
My heart starts racing. Already, sweat has begun to accumulate at the back of my neck. This doesnotfeel like the right moment to share with him that I might be falling for him.
Instead, it’s as if something has invisibly turned a corner betweenus. And not one that I was anticipating. He’s being evasive, awkward even.
Eachthwackof the hammer makes the silence between us feel louder.
Finally, he puts it down, and I seize my moment.
“Nate, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course, fine. Why?” He reaches for another nail. Forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. This chills me—I hate to see him fake-smiling. It’s like somethingIwould do. When I want to be anywhere other than where I am.
