Page 18 of Terms + Conditions
“Can I ask you something?” I ask, following Nina up the steps to the front porch.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my dress pants and lean back against the railing. I hadn’t brought this up the entireevening; I didn’t want to make it any more awkward than it already was. We danced around the topic in an attempt to make a normal conversation, but not bringing it up only made the elephant in the room grow bigger. It was strange. I’m used to a more upfront Nina. She’s never been one to hold back, and I wish that’s who I went to dinner with instead of this reserved version.
Nina pulls her cardigan tighter against the November breeze. A few loose pieces of her hair blow in the wind, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. “Josh—“
“I’m not trying to make this worse, Nin. I just want to—”
“Just stop.” Nina closes her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. She’s doing her best to remain neutral, but I know it’s getting harder to stay that way. With a final sigh, her burning green eyes meet my own, and her gaze is sad, knowing. “What did you think was going to happen?”
Before I can get a word in, she continues, “What am I saying? You didn’t. You didn’t think, neither of you did!”
“I’m sorry, Nin.”
“I believe that, but that doesn’t change what’s happened.”
My stomach flips when a set of headlights pulls into the driveway. Fuck, I didn’t want to be here when they got back. When they retreat and drive away, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I have to get out of here. Next time I won’t be so lucky. “I should go.”
“Yeah, you probably should.” Nina’s voice returns to its neutral tone as she wrangles back in her emotions from moments ago.
CHAPTER NINE
NOW
ELIZABETH IS SPENDING THANKSGIVING Day alone and it’s my fault.
She’s not alone; she’s probably with Ryan, that little voice in the back of my mind reminds me.
The thought makes me sick. Pulling down the magnolia-lined driveway, the Villa-Davis house comes into view. The house sits a good half mile from the gated entrance inside the already gated community, but that isn’t uncommon for this side of our subdivision. The side where people like the Villas, the Cains, and the Madigans own homes. The house Elizabeth and I own sits on the other side of the community, in the less gaudy subsection where the houses are a little more humble. It was my one request when it came time to buy something. But it didn’t matter what side you lived on, if you lived in Meridian Hills, the rest of the town put you on a pedestal.
Nick and Nina’s house is a magnificent structure made of stone, stucco, and wood that sits on two acres of land with an unobstructed view of the lake. Nina had built the house years ago—maybe nine at this point—and Nick moved in after their courthouse wedding in New York three years ago. It sits back from the water for added privacy from the immediate shorelinedown the hillside while maintaining the incredible views. The best part is they’re able to have a backyard, a pool, and a waterfront—a win-win-win in my book. Elizabeth and I don’t have a lake view, but we have a backyard and a pool, and that’s enough most days.
The driveway comes to a fork—the left leads to a three-car garage, and the right leads to an uncovered parking area where six cars are already parked. Six? That’s odd. There should only be five. Maybe Nina invited her assistant to join us. Eddie is a cool guy, a little quiet, but his timing for jokes is always spot on. I shrug it off and pull into an open spot next to the black Range Rover I don’t recognize.
Stalking toward the front door, I carry a handle of bourbon in one hand and a pecan pie in the other—I couldn’t come empty-handed. Especially not when Nina was having to spend the holiday without her sister because of me. The front door is solid black, with two large paneled windows on either side. On my left leading up to the door is a wall of windows blacked out by privacy screens; to the right, along the face of the house, more blacked-out windows behind a bench that appears like it’s more for decoration than actual use. I’m shocked the house isn’t more decorated for the holidays, usually Nina decorates the first week of November.
Before I can knock, a blonde blur races past the front door.Elizabeth. No, there’s no way, it had to have been Michaela or Eileen. Elizabeth isn’t supposed to be here.
Moments later, she returns, and I catch her attention through the side window. It is Elizabeth. She hesitates, looking toward the living area where I assume everyone else is. Wondering if she should let one of them open it. Instead, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.
“Thought you weren’t coming,” I say, wiping my feet on the rug outside and stepping across the threshold. I slip my feet outof my shoes and leave them near the others collected by the front door.
“I wasn’t.” Her response isn’t exactly rude, but it’s not very inviting, either.
“And yet, here you are.”
Dark-painted lips pull into a thin line in response to my smile. I wonder if something happened. Last I heard, she wasn’t going to be here. She didn’t have to anymore—neither of us did—our contractual obligation to be at family holidays together was now null and void.
A few days after my spontaneous drive down to Jupiter Beach, I got the first call from my sister since I left New York. She didn’t waste any time informing me that Elizabeth wouldn’t be at Thanksgiving this year and then informed me that she thought Elizabeth was seeing someone.
“Why would you think that?” I asked when she said it, muting the television.
“I just get this feeling,” Michaela said with the sounds of the city in the background. It was two o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, and since Finn was in California, I imagined she decided to go for a walk to think about things. Especially after receiving whatever news she was about to tell me.
“Did she say something?”
“No, but Nina—I don’t know. I just get this feeling.”
“What about Nina?”
