“Natalie. Look, here’s the thing. You and Victoria share a past. I don’t know what happened. But there’s tension whenever the two of you are in a room together. She’s going to be my wife. I have to have her back. Be in her corner. Understand?”
My gut tightened when she stumbled back a step.
Gaze dropped to the ground, she mumbled, “Sure. Sure, I get it. Being friendly with me feels like you’re betraying her.”
“Yes.”
She scratched her forehead. Angry eyes lifted to meet mine. “So when we bump into each other, like we seemed cursed to do, should I pretend like I don’t know you?”
Cursed was a little harsh. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Really?” Her right brow lifted.
Aw, shit. The woman was pissed.
“So what should I do exactly? Pretend I don’t see you and keep on walking? Or maybe I should forget the years of torture, the four years of therapy, and next time we’re all in a room together give Victoria a big ol’ bearhug, thank her for the scars I wear, inside and out. Let her off the hook. Is that what I should do, so that life can be more comfortable for you?”
“She’s trying.”
Stepping closer, she pounded a pointed finger into her chest. “I’m trying, too, for Lacey.”
“You wanted to know why I’m distracted. I answered.” God, I was an ass.
“I’m the reason you’re distracted? Me?” Hands to hips, she stepped closer, raising her chin in challenge. “We agreed to be friends. I’m being friendly.”
“Maybe I can’t—”
“Cole.” Dad cut me off, his large arm coming around my shoulder.
I hadn’t noticed his approach. I stepped away from the fiery woman. She stood her ground.
“Who’s the lovely lady?” my father asked.
“Dad, this is Natalie King. Martin’s girlfriend.”
“King?” Dad offered his hand. “Any relation to Joe King?”
Natalie gave him a firm shake and a genuine smile. “That’s my uncle. You know him?”
“He’s the only man I trust with my finances.”
“Wow. Small world.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Dad shot me a glance, then asked, “Why don’t you join us for lunch?”
“Oh. Thank you, really, but I have an appointment.” She pointed across the street.
“Pleasure to meet you, Natalie,” Dad said, clueless to the tension.
“You, too.” Natalie offered Dad a small wave, shot daggers my way, mumbled, “Cole,” and punched the button for the crossing signal.
I glued my gaze to my father so as not to watch her walk away, so as not to give away my unfaithful thoughts. I only relaxed when, through my periphery, I noted she’d made it across the street and inside the building opposite from where we stood.
“Shame what happened to that girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I remember right, she was tormented in high school. There was a big scandal involving her and her cousins, Joe’s kids.”
“Didn’t know that.”
“She’s a fighter, though. Didn’t quit or move away. Earned a full ride at UW. Shall we head inside? I’m famished.”
We were seated at our usual table beside the window. Only after we’d ordered did I dare a look across the street. The name on the building Natalie had entered read Joyspring Wellness Center.
Dad laughed, snapping me back to attention.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“Natalie King.” He held my gaze, head bobbing, waiting for me to get the joke.
I didn’t. “And?”
“Cole.” He lifted his hands to the sky, like the answer was obvious. “Nat King Cole.”
“Jeez, Dad. Really?”
“You know, your grandparents were huge Nat King Cole fans. Dad had all his albums. He used to dance your grandma around the kitchen, singing all those oldies to her.”
The weight on my chest lightened. “He used to sing to me and Cadence, too. All the damn time.”
Dad laughed, highlighting his wrinkles. “He was the only one could get you to sleep sometimes. You’d cry until you were purple-faced. Your gramps would come over, take you out of your mama’s arms, shut himself in the bedroom with you, and start crooning. You’d be out cold in no time.” His eyes shimmered. “God, I miss him.”
“Me, too, Dad. Me, too.”
I stood outside the bank, feeling every bit the jackass, but determined to right my wrong.
At five thirty-five, a scrawny security guard escorted Natalie though the door. Her smile fell from her face when she saw me, that disappointment a sledgehammer to my chest.
She turned to her friend and said, “See you tomorrow, Tim,” then came my way.
Though we stood mere feet apart, miles of wrong separated us. Her red-rimmed glasses matched her floral blouse and red wool coat. God damn, the woman must have stock in an eyewear company.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, staring at my chest.
Black slacks covered her legs, thank God. Made focusing on the task at hand easier. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Okay.” She moved past and headed toward the intersection. “Apology accepted.”
I followed a pace behind. “I was rude and insensitive.”
“No,” she said over her shoulder, her steps hurried. “Just honest. I like that about you.”
I reached for her, then reconsidered. That should’ve been the end of our convo. I apologized; she forgave. But my conscience wasn’t eased, so I asked, “Can I walk you home?”
“Sure. On one condition.” She reached the street corner and pounded the crosswalk button.
I stood at her left, an arm’s length away, giving her space. Or giving me space. I wasn’t sure. “What would that be?”
“No flirting.”
“Fine.”
“No smiling either,” she said, staring across the street.
“Seriously. Why?”
“You have dimples.” Her lips curled. “Dimples make me stupid.”
“See. I feel like that was a flirt.”
The signal changed and Natalie stepped off the curb. “No. Not a flirt. A fact.”
“Okay. Christ. Can we start over?”
“Sure.”
“Listen. I was talking with my Dad yesterday. He mentioned an incident in high school—”
She threw up a hand, cutting me off. “That’s very personal.”
“I need to know, friend to friend, was Victoria involved?”
“Cole. You’ll have to ask your fiancée. Will she tell you the truth? I don’t know, but that’s between you and her. It’s
