Which was stupid because I had the same pieces of toast, but me stealing Nick’s food wasnormal. And that’s what he wanted us to be.
I bit into the toast, chewed and swallowed.
Maybe I could convince Jolie to open a French boulangerie in town.
“Nora,” he urged.
“No,” I finally said. “It was all a lie. The money, the bodyguards, the chases through the streets. But the con…wow, it was real. Impressive. Like, that asshole took his time. It all started so slowly. He needed cash to get out of town fast. They were tracking him through his credit card transactions. Could I pick up the watch he’d reserved at Tiffany’s, he’d pay me back as soon as he saw me. Then he got ahold of my credit card. When I tell you how far in debt I was before it occurred to me that something was off…”
“Bad?”
“Stupendously bad, epically bad. It was good that I’d saved all the money I’d earned in Paris.” I took a bite of my eggs, which, even though I was so miserable, were just like I remembered, fluffy and delicious. There was satisfaction in knowing so many things about Calico Cove hadn’t changed.
“But eventually you figured it out?”
I chuckled. “Too late, but yes. He started showing me these texts from this unknown number. How they wanted to get in contact with him. That he had information they needed. When I finally asked him who that person was, he told me…oh God, this is so awful.” I buried my head in my hands. “He told me it was classified because they were with the CIA.”
Nick, who had been taking a sip of his coffee, nearly spit it out.
“I know. I know! It was like I woke up out of this stupor, looked around and realized it was all a sham.”
There had been signs. A few people in my friend group had tried to make comments. Does he seem too good to be true? Did you ask him why his credit card was declined when he tried to pick up a dinner bill? Why is he borrowing money from you instead of a bank?
But the thrill of the shiny and new had been both distracting and served my delusion that this life was better than home. Better than Nick. Who cared about Calico Cove when I was jetting off to Iceland for a night just to see the Aurora Borealis? What did it matter that my family was hosting their annual BBQ party without me, if I was sitting on a lounge chair roasting in the sun in Monaco? What did some little crush on Nick matter when I was having a grand love affair all across Europe?
“Go ahead and say it,” I prompted him. “Give me your worst. How stupid could I be? That was your question, right? Incredibly stupid. Undeniably naïve. He didn’t just steal my money, he robbed me of my self-confidence. Of who I thought I was.”
The story had emptied me and I sat there feeling like I was made of humiliation and bad news. I shrugged and let my hands fall open on the table. “Tell me how I’m supposed to come back from this. I don’t know how I’m ever going to trust another human being again. I’m back in Calico Cove because I’m broke as hell, but it’s also the only place I can go where I know people. I mean really know them.”
Nick looked at me for a long time and I sat there and let him. I let him see right into all the broken and strange places Rene had left in me. I waited for him to say that nothing was as bad as it seemed. That I was still a person with value and worth. That I wasn’t an idiot.
“You’ll get over it,” he said.
It was such a Nick thing to say.
Rub some dirt on it. Shake it off. Get over it.
I laughed, but it was sharp and grumbly.
“This from the man who has suppressed every real emotion he’s ever felt,” I said, because my feelings were hurt and maybe I wanted to hurt his too?
“Have not,” he said, munching on some buttered toast. “Annoyed is an emotion. Sometimes I get real annoyed. Is hunger an emotion? I get hungry. Sometimes I get horny-“
The word split the air between us.
“So why are you still single? You’re thirty-six, Nick. Everyone in this town is wondering when you’re going to settle down. Mom worries you’ll never meet The One.”
“There is noOne,” he said. “There is convenience, time and compatibility.”
“So romantic.” I glanced around the diner like I was looking for an audience. “Someone sign this man up forThe Bachelor.”
“I know people talk, but I don’t care. I’m not going to be rushed into something because everyone thinks I should be settled down at this age.”
“Don’t you want a wife? Kids?”
“I don’t know?” He shrugged, playing it so cool, but he forgot I knew him better than anyone.
“You’re not going to be like your dad,” I said. “Or your mom.”
