The Wedding Contract(44)

Nick takes the glue and quietly places it on the desk. When he looks at me, his eyes are narrowed, and he doesn’t speak. Instead of going to the mini-bar, he pulls on his jeans, boots, and an old T-shirt. Then Nick walks over to the door and kicks it so hard that the jamb splinters.

“Nick, wait!” I jump up, taking the sheet with me. “Wait!”

But he doesn’t stop. He turns the corner and runs down the staircase without a word.

I’m still standing in the door, wearing nothing but my sheet and feeling like scum, when my phone rings. I walk toward it. AMY is flashing on the screen, so I answer. She never calls. “Hello, what’s wrong?”

“Sky, I’m glad I caught you. We have problems. I tried to handle everything else, I mean I did handle everything else, but there’s been a shitstorm of crap since you left.”

“What do you mean?” I sit down hard on the edge of the bed as she fills me in.

“The fire marshal showed up a month early and fined the hell out of us. I knew you were strapped, so I paid it. Don’t say anything. I know you’re too proud to accept help, and besides, you helped me when I fell flat on my face. But since then it’s been non-stop. I’ve handled everything, Sky, but this—I can’t do it. I mean, I tried, but you’re going to see it as soon as you come back.” Amy sounds like she’s ready to crack.

“What happened?”

“The sewer line to the shopping center backed up and ruptured in your store. It must have happened during lunch. I only left for an hour, but when I came back I found two inches of sewer water all over the floor. It was gushing everywhere. I called the city and they said it was the landlord’s issue, so I called the landlord and he shut it off, but Sky—everything is ruined. I called the insurance company. I swear to God, I tried to handle it, but they said your policy lapsed. I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford a clean-up service and no one can be in here right now.”

I blink rapidly as she speaks and try not to cry. Nick did this, I’m sure of it. While he was covering me in kisses a pipe broke and destroyed my store. I manage to ask, “What about Nick’s store? And the rest of the shopping center?”

“The break in the line was by your store. They weren’t affected.”

My chest feels hollow. He ripped out my heart and stomped away. I don’t cry when I say it. “Flip the sign to closed and leave. I’m sorry, Amy, but I’m not going to be able to recover from this. You’ll have to find a job somewhere else.”

Amy gushes apologies and tells me that I might be able to come up with something when I see it, but I know she’s just trying to keep me in one piece until I get home. “It’s okay, Amy. I knew this was coming. Thank you for everything. I’ll see you when I get back.” I end the call and cry into the pillow. It still has the scent of the man who told me he loved me, while he stabbed me in the back.





CHAPTER 31





I shower and dress, packing up the things that I brought into the trunk of my huge car. The sun has set and the reception is in full swing. My dad is still wearing his suit. It’s a little too snug and pinches under his neck and arms. But he looks nice all dressed up. “Skylar, are you leaving so soon?” His face is pinched. He knows I wasn’t at the wedding, but he doesn’t ask why or what’s wrong. There’s this thing he does, it’s like he can tell when I need him and he just quietly shows up. He usually knows what to say without adding to my anguish, so I don’t hurry away from him.

“Yeah, Dad, I have to,” I say, not making eye contact with him as I speak. “A pipe broke at the store and it’s a huge mess. Amy said she needs help and she never asks for help. I need to go back.”

He tucks his hands under his armpits and stands in that dad pose he sports when I’m ready to burst into tears. “My tool kit is in my trunk. Let me go get it for you. Maybe there’ll be something you can use.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him no, so I nod and say, “That’d be great.”

Daddy walks off while I dart inside and up the staircase to grab the last of my things. I’m so afraid I’ll see Nick, and I can’t deal with him now. I need to go. Stay focused. Stay calm. Cry later. I chant my mantra over and over again, planning on singing angry 90’s music all the way home. The people on the ferry will totally ignore me. It’ll be awesome. The Jagged Little Pill album is already queued to play on my phone.

When I get to my car, I dump the rest of my stuff in the trunk and slam it. That’s when I see dad toting a red toolbox toward me. When he’s by the car, he says, “Sometimes things don’t work out and the reason has nothing to do with you, or how good you are.”