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He nodded. “I thought it was because you knew. Like you could taste it in me somehow, that I wasn’t good enough. ”
She wanted to touch him so badly her fingers tingled. She forced her hand into a fist. “I never knew why I cried. Still don’t. ”
He smiled at her. “See? The paths are set before we’re aware. Kathy was so much simpler. I understood her. She needed me, even then she needed me, and to me that was the same as love. I just plopped into the role I knew. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Ask you to give up Stanford? Or wait for you, even though you hadn’t asked me to?”
Annie had never once considered being bold enough to talk to Nick about how she felt. Like him, she’d fallen easily—tumbled—into the role she knew. She did what was expected of her; Annie the good girl. She went away to college and married a nice boy with a bright future . . . and lost herself along the way.
“I always figured you’d be famous,” he said at last, “you were so damned smart. The only kid from Mystic ever to get an academic scholarship to Stanford. ”
She snorted. “Me, famous? Doing what?”
“Don’t do that, Annie. ” His voice was as soft as a touch, and she couldn’t help looking at him. The sadness in his eyes coiled around her throat and squeezed. “That’s a bad road to go down. Believe me, I know. You could succeed at anything you tried. And screw anyone who tells you different. ”
His encouragement was a draught of water to her parched, thirsty soul. “I did think of something the other day. . . . ”
“What?”
She drew back. “You’ll laugh. ”
“Never. ”
Dangerously, she believed him. “I’d like to run a small bookstore. You know the kind, with overstuffed chairs and latte machines and employees who actually read. ”
He touched her cheekbone, a fleeting caress that made her shiver. It was the first time he’d deliberately touched her since that night by the lake. “You should see yourself right now, Annie. ”
Heat climbed up her cheeks. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. ”
“No. Never. I was just noticing how your eyes lit up when you said ‘bookstore. ’ I think it’s a great idea. In fact, there’s an old Victorian house on Main Street. It used to be a gift shop until a few months ago. When the owner died, they closed it up. They’ve been trying to find a renter. With a little elbow grease, it could make a great location. ” He paused and looked at her. “If you wanted to open that bookstore in Mystic. ”
The fantasy broke apart. They both knew that her life wasn’t in Mystic. She belonged in another state, beneath another sun, in a white house by the sea. She stared down at her diamond ring, trying to think of something to say, a way to brush off the silly daydream and pretend she’d never voiced it.
He said suddenly, “Have you seen Same Time, Next Year?”
She frowned. “The Alan Alda movie—the one about the couple who have an affair for one weekend every year?”
“Yeah. ”
She found it difficult to breathe evenly. The air seemed electrified by the simple word: a fair. “I-I always loved it. ”
“It’s starting in ten minutes. You want to watch?”
Her breath expelled in a rush. She felt like a fool for reading something into a simple little question about a movie.
“Sure. ”
They settled onto the sofa and watched the movie, but all the while, Annie had the strangest sensation that she was falling. She kept glancing at Nick, whom she often caught staring at her in return. She didn’t want to consider how much he had begun to matter, but there was no way to avoid the obvious.
Last night, she’d learned that he liked chocolate chip ice cream and hated beets . . . that blue was his favorite color and professional sports bored him to tears . . . that he liked his baked potatoes with butter and bacon bits, but no salt or pepper, and that sometimes a kiss from Izzy, given as she snuggled close to him, had the power to make him cry.
She knew that often the need for a drink rose in him with such sudden ferocity that it left him winded and glassy-eyed. In those moments, he would push away from Annie and Izzy and run into the forest alone. Later, he would return, his hair dampened by sweat, his skin pale and his hands trembling, but he would smile at her, a sad, desperate smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and she would know that he had beaten it again. And sometimes, in that moment, when their gazes locked across the clearing, she could feel the danger, simmering beneath the surface.
She didn’t want to care too deeply about Nick Delacroix, and yet she could feel each day bringing them closer and closer.
When the movie ended, she couldn’t look at him, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes . . . afraid of what he’d see in hers. So, she grabbed her box of tissues and her purse and ran for the door. She hardly even mumbled a good-bye.
Chapter 17
Izzy woke up scared. She’d been dreaming about her mommy . . . that was all she could remember. Her mommy had been down by the lake, calling out to her . . . crying.
