I DID NOT WANT to go back to the Buckley house.
After Austin had said thank you, next—actually it was more like fuck you, no—I’d grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of their living room as quickly as I could. I could see that Mabel felt just as terrible as I did. The kids, who’d been sitting side by side on the same step, listening to everything, waved goodbye to me with sad faces.
“I wish you could be our nanny,” Adelaide had said.
“Me too,” echoed her brother.
For the first time, I thought about how much fun the job would have been and really regretted blowing it. I could have spent my summer in this charming, friendly little town, hanging out with those adorable kids on the beach, riding bikes, getting ice cream, eating fudge. We could have done crafts and colored. Baked birthday cakes and eaten batter from the bowl. Made up dances and put on shows in the backyard. I actually loved kids—I wanted my own someday.
Dammit, I could have been a good nanny! That uptight jerk hadn’t even given me a chance. And did he even know how to smile?
As I plodded toward the inn, which, according to my nearly dead phone, was one mile across town, the adrenaline that had gotten me through the day was starting to fade. I swallowed hard several times, but the lump in my throat stubbornly refused to dissipate. Tears welled in my eyes. I took a few deep breaths and concentrated on picking out different scents in the air—fudge, the bay, the lilac bushes in someone’s front yard. I nearly had my emotions under control when my phone buzzed in my bag.
It was Morgan.
“Well?” she squealed. “What’s the news? Are you Mrs. Veronica Vanderhoof?”
“Actually, no. I’m not.” God, it felt so good to say that.
Silence. And then, “Wait. What?”
“I didn’t marry him.”
More silence. “Are you being serious?”
“Yes.”
“Halle-fucking-lujah! But are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I took a breath. “Or I will be. I think I’m still in shock.”
“What happened?”
“About half an hour before the ceremony, he sent me a sext meant for someone else.”
“Who’s the someone else?” Morgan didn’t sound surprised.
“Valerie. His assistant. He must have hit the letter V in his phone and not paid attention to whose name actually came up.”
“That is because you were engaged to a complete fuckwit jackass who does not and never has deserved you,” said Morgan, “but go on. I’ll try to reserve additional judgment until the end.”
“It seems like they might have been, um, together last night.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe Valerie is staying at the family’s vacation house. Or maybe he went to her hotel room. I stayed by myself at the inn you and I’d planned to stay at.”
Morgan groaned. “God, Roni, I’m so sorry I’m not there. My baby had some nerve arriving so soon. I’ve never been early for anything in my life! He must get that from Jake.”
I had to smile, remembering all the call times Morgan had nearly missed during our days as Rockettes together. “How’s the baby doing?”
“Good.” Morgan’s voice warmed. “He’s out of the NICU, breathing pretty well on his own and eating okay. The doctor is cautiously optimistic we can take him home within the week.”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Do it. Run away. Get on a plane back to New York right the fuck now.”
“And do what? Live where?” I turned a corner and trudged further up the hill toward the Cherry Blossom Inn. “How would I even get on a plane? I have no money that’s not his, and I refuse to spend one more Vanderhoof dime.”
“He owes you, Roni. We can find you a job. You can live here.”
“In your one-bedroom apartment with your husband and newborn?” Morgan had married a talented composer and music director, but even their combined incomes didn’t stretch very far in terms of Manhattan rent, and their place was small. “No way. I am not intruding on you guys.”
“Here’s what you do.” She continued like I hadn’t spoken. “You go to the bank ASAP and drain every account you can—savings and checking. Then you—”
“Are you kidding? My name isn’t actually on any bank accounts, Morgan. I had a credit card that Neil paid off. He gave me an allowance in cash.”
My best friend growled. “God, I hate him. And if I’d been a better friend through all this, I wouldn’t have let you say yes to him and move away.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You were busy getting married and being pregnant and happy.” My voice grew quieter. “And I’d made my mom a promise. I felt I owed it to her.”
“You didn’t owe her this.” Morgan’s voice was firm. “I know how much you loved your mom, Roni. I know how she got pregnant at eighteen. I know she was abandoned by the guy and disowned by her parents. I know how many jobs she worked to pay for your dance training. But you didn’t owe her this.”
“I don’t know when she slept,” I cut in, even though Morgan had heard all my stories early on in our friendship. “But she never once complained. She wanted my dream to come true.”
“And it did,” she said softly. “Don’t you think your mom would have wanted you to keep dancing? She loved watching you!”
“But she loved seeing me with Neil too. She was so dazzled by him and his promise that he would always take care of me. She was in awe of his money.”
“What about love? Don’t you think she wanted you to find love?”
I bit my tongue. My mother’s relationship with love was complicated. She’d fallen hard for someone who betrayed her, so she had made it very clear to me all my life that romantic love wasn’t something you could trust.
Your heart could mislead you. Better to use your head.
Guard your heart like it’s your home, she always said. Be careful who you let in.
“Because Neil was not capable of love,” Morgan continued. “He saw something he liked on stage one night—the brightest, shiniest, most beautiful object he could imagine possessing—and when you turned him down the first few times, he was even more driven to prove he could have you, because he’s used to getting what he wants. But that isn’t love, Roni. It’s just greed.”
“I know. But I didn’t love him either.”
“I hope you told him that.”
“I think it was implied when I refused to marry him.”
“God, I wish I’d have been there.” Morgan’s tone lightened up. “So how did old Cornelius take the news? I can’t imagine he was too happy to get dumped on his wedding day.”
“He was not. Especially not the way I did it.” I told her the full story, and she crowed with laughter.
“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. “He finally got what he deserved. So what will you do now?”
“Well, first I need to get out of this dress.” Reaching the inn, I headed up the walk to the front entrance. “Then charge my phone. Then get a good night’s sleep. After that, I’ll be able to think straight.”
“Wait, you’re still wearing the dress?”
“Yes. I even interviewed for a nanny job in it.”
“A what job?”
“A nanny job. But I didn’t get it.”
Morgan was laughing again. “You’ve had a hell of a day, Veronica Sutton. But if anyone can bounce back from this, you can.”
“Thanks.” I pulled open the door and entered the Cherry Blossom Inn’s lobby. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I love you, and everything is going to be okay.”
“I love you too. And I hope you’re right.”
But she wasn’t.
I was stopped on my way through the lobby by a nervous-looking employee named Randall who delivered a bombshell—several of them, actually.
I’d been checked out. I had ten minutes to pack my bags and leave the premises. The credit card number that I’d given for incidentals was no longer valid.
“There must be some mistake,” I started—and then it hit me.
Neil had done this. It was his way of showing me he was still in control. He still held my fate in his hands. I needed him. I was nothing without him.
Well, fuck that.
Just in case this Randall guy was being paid to report back to Neil, I refused to beg or fall apart. Chin held high, I went up to my room and—under Randall’s watchful eye—threw all my things in a suitcase. “Can I have a minute alone to change my clothes please?” I asked.
He nodded and left the room. The second the door was closed, a sob tried to escape, but I choked it down. As quickly as I could, I ditched the wedding dress for a pair of denim shorts and a black T-shirt, knotting the tee at my waist the way I liked and Neil hated. In the bathroom, I scrubbed my face and yanked the pins from my chignon, leaving my hair loose around my shoulders. After putting my sneakers back on, I grabbed my bags and opened the door.
Randall looked beyond me into the room, his expression suspicious like I might be trying to walk out with a lamp or a pillow. “What about that?” He pointed at something.
I glanced behind me and saw my wedding dress in a sad, deflated heap of tulle and silk on the floor. “I don’t want it. It’s garbage.”
“You’re just going to leave it like that?”
“Oh—sorry.” I went back into the room and balled up the dress as much as I could, then made a big show of attempting to stuff it in the tiny wastebasket. It overflowed like the foam on a beer poured too fast. “That better?”
Before he could answer, I walked out, dragging my suitcase filled with clothing for a luxury Hawaiian honeymoon behind me.
It was only when I reached the sidewalk outside the inn and realized I had absolutely nowhere to go and less than five dollars to my name that I gave in and shed a few tears, tugging my bag over the rough cement. But my mother had taught me there was no use crying over spilled milk, so I dug a tissue from my purse, mopped up my face, and made a plan.
Morgan could send me some money, right? All I needed was a train ticket back to Chicago so I could get some clothing and then plane fare to New York. And I’d pay them back plus interest as soon as I could get a job—I’d take anything.
I pulled out my phone to call her—the battery was dead.
“Okay, universe,” I muttered to the twilight sky. “Now what?”
The universe was annoyingly silent.
“Fine,” I mumbled. “Be that way.” I decided to head for Main Street. Maybe Ari and Steve would let me charge my phone at Moe’s.
But when I reached Moe’s and looked through the window, Ari and Steve were nowhere to be seen, and unfamiliar servers were behind the counter. Too humiliated to walk in and explain the situation to a new crowd, I fought back tears and turned around again.
I only knew one other place to go.
Praying that Mabel would answer the door and I wouldn’t have to face Austin Buckley again (now I knew what Ari had meant by intense), I knocked three times.
The twins came barreling toward the screen door like it was a race. Owen was there first and pulled it open. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Owen. Hi, Adelaide.”
“Veronica?” The young girl tilted her head. “You look different. I like your hair.”
“Thank you.” I tried to smile. “I was wondering if Mabel was here?”
“I’ll get her!” Adelaide took off running, leaving Owen and me alone.
“You can come in,” he said. “You’re not a real stranger, so I don’t think my dad would be mad.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind waiting out here on the porch.”
Owen came outside, letting the screen door slap shut behind him. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at my suitcase. “Are you going on a trip?”
“I was supposed to, but it got canceled.”
“Our trip to Sleeping Bear Dunes got canceled last year because Grandpa had a heart attack.”
“Oh no!” I said. “I hope he’s okay now.”
“He is. We’re going to California soon to visit our mom. We go every summer.”
So she lived on the other side of the country. Interesting. “That will be fun.”
“Not all kids live with their mom and dad,” he went on. “Some kids live just with their dad, like me and Addie, and then some live with just their mom.”
“Sure. I lived with just my mom.”
“Did you visit your dad?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t.”
“Was it because your mom would miss you too much? Daddy says that’s why we only go to California once a year. He misses us too much when we’re gone.”
“Something like that,” I said, begrudgingly finding it sweet that Austin seemed to be such a devoted father. Too bad he was such a curmudgeon of a guy.
“Did you FaceTime your dad? We FaceTime our mom on Sunday nights.”
Before I could answer, the screen door flew open and Mabel burst out onto the porch, followed closely by a scowling Austin and then a taller version of Austin but with a beard and a smile. Adelaide was the last one out the door.
“Veronica,” Mabel said breathlessly. “Are you okay?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “I’m sort of stranded at the moment, and my phone is dead. I’m so sorry to ask, but do you think I could charge it here? Maybe there’s an outlet on the porch?”
“There isn’t,” Austin said, looking put out that I’d returned. Maybe I’d interrupted dinner or something.
“Hi,” said bearded, smiling guy, offering a hand. “I’m Xander Buckley.”
“Veronica Sutton. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re welcome to charge your phone at my house,” Xander offered. “My dad and I live two minutes from here and we have plenty of outlets.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Mabel. “You can charge your phone here, Veronica. Let’s just go inside.”
Austin opened his mouth like he might argue, but Mabel silenced him with a look and a command: “Bring her suitcase in the house, Austin.”
“Why?” the big jerk asked. “She’s not staying here.”
“I’ll get it,” Xander said with a grin. “Looks too heavy for Austin, anyway.”
