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“It’s a masterpiece.”
She snapped picture after picture of the cake and the cupcakes. Before anyone had a bite, her photos would be posted to social media. Scores of her friends would post comments about how talented she was. Their praise would keep her dream alive. She knew she just had to wait for time to pass to make it come true. Passing time, on the other hand, meant the death of my dream.
“I’m glad we went to the party,” I said. Kyle and I were stopped at a red light in the center of town on the way home from Sharon’s. “Cameron had so much fun playing with you.”
“He’s a good kid.”
“You’re great with him. And Noah too.”
The light turned green, and Kyle punched the gas. Without using a signal, he turned right onto Gorham Road, a cut-through to the other side of the mountain where we lived, but a street I didn’t like to drive down. Usually when I was with him, Kyle didn’t use the pass-through, either, because he knew being on it upset me. That he turned on it today told me he knew what I wanted to talk about and was trying to distract me. I had seen a vicious side of him when he played hockey, but I had never seen it off the ice, and certainly he had never directed it at me. Granted, driving down a road wasn’t exactly vicious, but by taking the turn onto Gorham, my husband let me know he would no longer treat me with the consideration he always had.
Ahead on the right, Pendleton 88, the reason I avoided this road, came into view. The marquee was the same maroon color it had been when it readDEMARCO’SDINERand my parents owned the place. I felt queasy, the way I always did when I was reminded that I had given away my parents’ legacy.
Directly in front of the restaurant, the driver in the car ahead of us flipped on his blinker and stopped, waiting for a parking spot. As Kyle braked again, I shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat and felt him watching me. He placed a hand on my knee. I knew by that simple gesture he regretted his decision to drive by Pendleton. I didn’t, though. If anything, seeing the place my parents had sacrificed so much to build with Hank’s last name and stupid hockey number on the door made me more determined to carry on a piece of them.
I covered Kyle’s hand with my own and turned toward him. “I interviewed for managing editor. The position pays a lot more than my current one. If I get it, we can use the money for another cycle.”
Behind us, someone beeped. Kyle slid his hand out from under mine and continued down the road without saying anything. The Jeep’s engine hummed, the road noises got louder, and the street in front of us became less congested as we drove away from downtown.
Less than a mile from home, Kyle finally spoke. “Remember how we used to go to Eastham every summer, with Sharon and Rick ... what a blast it was?”
“Of course.” I thought of the four of us slugging down mojitos, watching the sunset at Thumpertown Beach, and how Sharon and I wouldn’t be able to stand, never mind climb the stairs, when it was time to leave. Kyle and Rick would carry us up piggyback-style, and we would collapse in the back of the Jeep in a fit of laughter.
“Once they had Cameron, they stopped coming,” Kyle said. “But we still go, and we have fun. It’s the highlight of our year, and they’re always jealous, wishing they could come with us again.”
“Don’t.”
“We can be happy without kids, Nikki. We’ve been happy without them.”
“I’ve been happy because I’ve known children were in our future. Without that knowledge—” I stopped and shook my head.
“We can’t take another twenty-thousand-dollar hit.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
He tapped his hand on the steering wheel, and his wedding ring clanked against it. “Think about all the jobs I’ve turned down.”
He had passed up an opportunity to work on major renovations for a few of the houses on the mountain because with our frequent trips to the city, he couldn’t commit to the timelines.
We were on our street, driving by the Abramses’. A shadowy figure stood in the window, watching us. “We aren’t going to have kids, Nikki. It’s not in the cards. Accept it.”
“The increase I get with the managing editor position will be more than enough to pay for another round.”
Kyle turned in to our driveway and killed the ignition. The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountain, and the sky was turning pink. I let myself believe the color was a sign from my parents.You’ll get pregnant next time, and you’ll have a girl.
Kyle unfastened his seat belt. “Talk to me about another round when the job’s yours.”
Chapter 8
On Wednesday, Page and I sat at my desk, reviewing the latest issue of the magazine, which had just arrived. My IM pinged with a message from Carol.Please come up to Andrew’s office right away.
“He must have made a decision about the managing editor position,” I said.
Page squeezed my arm. “Promise you’ll take care of your good friend when you’re the boss.”
The elevator took forever to get to the fourth floor. When I finally arrived at Andrew’s office, his door was shut. He sat with his feet up on the desk, talking on the phone while tossing a ball in the air. He saw me peeking in the window and motioned with his finger that he would be a minute.
Carol came up behind me. “Is he still on the phone?”
