Marc didn't seem to notice.
'Yeah, I heard you got dumped.'
'I wouldn't call it dumped,' I protested, but only for a moment. 'Yeah, okay, I guess I got dumped.'
'Been there. It's the worst. You feel as if you got kicked in the stomach, and by the one person you trusted completely.' He stared straight ahead and spoke quietly, almost to himself. 'You just have to get past it.'
'How?'
Marc rested his hand on my leg for just a second, but it felt good. 'You're doing it, Nell. You're not sitting around waiting for him to decide if he wants you. You're making decisions. You're making plans for your future.' He shifted a little in his seat. 'It's none of my business, but the guy is an idiot.'
I touched his leg just where he had touched mine, and left it there for more than just a second before I turned back to the window.
When Marc and I got to my apartment in New York, I immediately went for my cell. Three messages-one from Amanda and two from Ryan, one Friday and one today. I held my breath as I listened to his voice.
'Nell, it's me. I don't know if you want to talk to me or not, but I'd like to talk to you. I just want to know if you're okay with everything. If you're okay, period. Give me a call.' Beep.
'Nell. It's Ryan. I know you're hurt and you're probably angry at me.'
'Everything okay?' Marc still stood in the doorway, watching me.
'Fine.' I attempted a smile, and threw the phone in my purse. 'Come inside. I'm pretty much packed up, so it shouldn't take long.' I grabbed a box and handed it to him.
The only furniture I really had was my futon and TV; everything else was disposable or easy to pull apart. He had the truck packed and ready to go in less than two hours.
'I'm getting coffee for the road,' he said. 'Want anything?'
'Coffee sounds good.'
'Take these,' he said, and threw me a small set of keys-just two, a car key and what looked like a house key- on a worn leather key chain. 'I'll be right back.'
I went upstairs to see the place one more time and check that everything was in the truck. In the corner I had left one box. I wanted to carry it down myself, sort of a symbolic good-bye. In it was the lover's knot quilt I'd received just a few days earlier. Strange to think how much had changed in so little time.
I thought I would burst into tears. I'd planned it. But I felt nothing; I just was anxious to get on the road and breathe in some clean, crisp air.
When I walked out onto the street I could see that Marc was talking with someone. I took three steps and realized who it was-Ryan.
'What are you doing here?' I asked, genuinely confused.
'What are you doing?'
'She's moving, pal.' Marc stood between Ryan and me.
'She's my fiancee,
'Not anymore.' Marc moved toward me.
'All right, guys. That's enough.' I pulled Ryan a few steps from Marc. 'I was about to leave you a message,' I told him.
Ryan moved close to me, very close. More for Marc's benefit, I knew, than either his or mine. 'Who is that asshole?'
'My grandmother's handyman.' Ryan looked Marc over. Marc stared back. I loved Marc for acting all knight-in- shining-armor over a woman he hardly knew. 'And my friend.'
'You're making new friends already?' If he had meant to sound tough, he'd failed. I could see his eyes getting watery. Ryan gently touched my hair.
'Have you changed your mind?' I knew better than to ask the question, but I wanted to give him every chance.
He just stood there looking embarrassed, then he reached for my hand. I pulled it away.
'You didn't call me back,' he said.
'I forgot my phone,' I answered.
'How did we get here?' He stared at me.
'You,' I said quietly. 'You got us here.'
He nodded. 'So you have to move? Because I need more time, you have to pack up and leave?'
'My apartment was rented, remember?' He suddenly remembered. 'What am I supposed to do, crash on Amanda's couch until you're ready to get married?'
'No,' he said sharply. 'I just don't think we're going to solve anything with you all the way up there.' I could feel Ryan's breath on me and I started to feel confused. I moved a few steps away from him.
'I don't have anything to solve,' I said. 'You do. And maybe what you need is time alone to figure out what you want.' I didn't know whether to be mad or hurt or disappointed. But I knew I had to leave. Marc was right. I couldn't sit around and wait for Ryan. I had to make my own plans. And I had to make them now, before I changed my mind.
'My grandmother needs help,' I said. I stepped away from him and climbed into the passenger seat of Marc's truck. Marc immediately jumped in the driver's side.
'You have your cell phone with you this time?' Ryan called after me.
I nodded.
'Then I'll call you,' he shouted.
'Don't make any more promises until you know you can keep them,' I said, but I wasn't sure Ryan heard me. As Marc drove away, I watched Ryan standing on the street looking as hurt and confused as I felt.
CHAPTER 15
We were halfway to Archers Rest before either of us spoke. 'I'm sorry to have dragged you all the way into the city,' I said by way of apologizing for Ryan.
'I love New York. I don't go there too much now, but I used to live there. I went to Columbia for a couple of years.'
'Really? What did you study?'
Marc made a face. 'Biology, if you can believe it. My father's a doctor in town and he really wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I liked science, so I gave it a try, but medicine was not for me. I'm not cut out for postponing gratification.' He winked at me. 'Nearly killed my old man when he saw my grades. He gave me this lecture about how he wasn't spending hard-earned money so I could go drinking.' He laughed. 'Sure was fun, though.'
'How did you end up… I mean…'
'As the town handyman?' He looked over at me. 'It's cool. I don't know. I like working with my hands. I'd love to build a house someday, maybe a smaller version of your grandma's, right on the Hudson, and build furniture.'
'Have you built anything I could see?'
He got shy for a moment, then admitted, 'Yeah, I guess, if you want to. I've got some tables and chairs and stuff. I like to build old style. I use a lot of hand tools and I make some reproductions. That's my real love. I'd like to build something someday that my son, my children, and grandchildren could use and know that I made it.'
I looked over at him and noticed for the first time that his smile was slightly crooked and that he had a dimple on his right cheek. When he saw me watching him, I could see he was blushing a little, but he said nothing and neither did I. He was sweet and full of his own dreams. I liked him. And as simple an emotion as it was, that seemed very complicated to me.
We chatted about his future furniture-building business the rest of the way home, and then spent twenty minutes moving my stuff into the guest room at my grandmother's house. It was hard to believe that what had
