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Becca tried to keep her mind from wandering to the possibility that she and Nick might be soul mates.
She really shouldn’t go there. For her own peace of mind.
The best way to make sure she didn’t was to tell Kate the story of the night she met Nick.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Remember the night that Victor got in the drag racing accident?”
“Yes.”
“That night at the hospital Rosanna was so mad at me.”
Kate slanted her a glance. “Why was she mad at you? You weren’t driving.”
“I wasn’t, but I was the one who taught Victor how to drive a standard transmission.”
They came to a stop sign, and Kate shot her a glance that conveyed she clearly didn’t understand Rosanna’s anger.
Really, who did understand her sister? It seemed as if she was angry most of the time.
“She said if I hadn’t taught him, he wouldn’t have been tempted.” Becca shrugged. “That’s Rosanna logic for you. But I know she was just upset. Victor was banged up pretty badly. Anyhow, when the doctor came to give us the prognosis, I asked him to clarify something, and Rosanna tore into me. She told me I didn’t get to ask questions. She told me to leave.
“I wanted to give her some space, so I walked away. I went over to the nurses’ station to get a cup of coffee. I just wanted to give her a chance to calm down. When I was pouring the coffee, this guy—this drop-dead-gorgeous guy—was standing there, and he told me he didn’t mean to butt in, but he couldn’t help but overhear the exchange with my sister. Everybody had heard her, I’m sure. He told me he was a doctor, and he explained what Victor’s doctor had said.”
“That was Nick?” Kate asked.
Becca nodded.
“And then what? Did he ask for your phone number?”
Becca ran a hand over her eyes. Ugh. This was so embarrassing. Kate knew her well enough to know she didn’t sleep around. In fact, the last time she’d had sex was with her boyfriend two years ago.
“Not exactly. I went back over and rejoined my family, but Rosanna was just hysterical. My dad suggested that it might be a good idea to give her some space. He told me to go get something to eat, which really meant I should disappear for a while. He said he’d call if there were any changes in Victor’s condition.
“So, I walked over to Bentleys across the street from the hospital. I was just going to sit there for a while, get a decent cup of coffee—the stuff at the nurses’ station tasted like dirty water, and it was only lukewarm. I was going to bring some coffee back for my folks and Rosanna. A peace offering. I just wanted to give her a little time.
“And who do you suppose walked into Bentleys?”
“Nick?”
“How did you guess?” Becca laughed, but the sound was dry and brittle. It wasn’t funny. It was embarrassing. Kind of pathetic, really.
“That night Nick and I seemed to be on a trajectory toward each other. I came in and sat down at a booth and ordered my coffee. And for some reason everything that had been bottled up began spilling out. I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. I mean, I wasn’t making a scene or anything, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The next thing I knew, I saw Nick through the window. He was parking a motorcycle, and a minute later, he was standing by my table, offering me a napkin for my tears.”
“And the rest is history?”
“After he’d told me what the doctor had said, he’d checked on Victor and learned that, though he was banged up pretty badly, he was stable. He was going to be fine. And then the rest is history.”
Even though they were both adults, and she knew Kate wouldn’t think badly of her, Becca couldn’t look at her friend. Instead, she stared straight ahead.
“I’ve never had a one-night stand before,” Becca said. “I do, and look what happens.”
They were in front of Becca’s condo now. Kate killed the engine and reached out and put a hand on Becca’s arm. “Honey, I’m not judging you. You’re a grown woman, and you’re free to do whatever you want with your body. As long as you’re safe—”
“We used protection.” She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive. She took a deep breath and tempered her tone. “Obviously, something went wrong.”
Kate nodded. “What are you going to do now?”
Becca shrank into the shadows as she watched two of her neighbors, Mrs. Milton and Mrs. Cavett, who had the condos on either side of her, extract themselves from Mrs. Milton’s ancient Cadillac Deville. Mrs. M’s late husband had purchased the car brand-new, and she was still so proud of it she’d tell anyone who’d care to listen. If Becca had heard the story once, she’d heard it twenty-five times.
