Page 61 of Forked (Frenched 2)
“Yeah, Lucas likes him too, much to my outraged dissatisfaction. He says we shouldn’t judge people by their pasts.”
“He’s a good person. We’re not.”
“Ha. OK, so you ran into Nick Lupo.”
“There’s more to it than that…” I told her about Angelina’s insistence on having Nick at her party, about seeing him again at the restaurant, about drinks at the bar, and the bargain that included spending the weekend together.
“Oh no. Oh God. Tell me you said no.”
“Ummmm…I’m at his grandmother’s farm right now.”
“Coco!”
I touched my fingers to one temple. “Just let me get this out, OK? Because there’s more to this than you think. More than you know. We didn’t simply break up seven years ago…we actually got married.”
Silence.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m just…in shock. You guys got married? For real?”
“Yes. But it was a mistake.” I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and told her the whole story, from the first drop of whiskey we drank the night he proposed to the last tears I cried in that hotel room.
“Oh my God, Coco! All these years, and you never told me! I can’t believe it—you’re horrible at keeping secrets!”
“This was more than a secret. It was a terrible, embarrassing, painful mistake. And I just wanted to bury it. I wanted to go to Paris, forget him, forget everything. And it kind of worked.”
“No wonder he kept asking for your contact information—and no wonder you told me not to give it to him. Jesus, Coco. You poor thing! I’m so sorry you went through that alone. You should have told me! I would have been there for you!”
“I got over it, eventually. Being in Paris helped.”
“Yes…Paris is magical.”
I had to smile—Paris was where Mia and Lucas met. “I could use another spell. Turns out I wasn’t as over him as I thought I was.”
“Of course not. Like I said, I knew this would happen as soon as he came to town. You two cannot be within a fifty-mile radius of each other without feeling it. Like a magnetic field or something.”
“We’re definitely still attracted to each other, that’s for sure. And he told me this afternoon he’s still in love with me. And I think…” I swallowed and forced the words out. “I think I might be falling for him again too. Actually, I know I am.”
“Coco. Listen to me.” Mia’s tone was serious. “You cannot take him back. What he did was unforgivable!”
“But he apologized.” I told her about the conversation in the lake. Her gasps and squeals of indignation told me she was as angry as I was about his lies and faulty logic.
“He said what?”
I got off the bed and wandered to the dresser, running my thumbnail along its varnished edge. “He said he did it for me. He said he thought he was doing the right thing, and that afterward he was sorry.” I slammed my eyes shut. What the hell was I doing? Defending Nick? Hadn’t I called Mia so she could reassure me I was doing the right thing by not getting back together with him?
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she said angrily. “Sorry is for ‘oops, I stepped on your foot’ or ‘whoops, I forgot your birthday.’ Sorry is not for leaving your wife on your wedding night.”
“I know. And he knows.” Turning around, I leaned back against the dresser. “He said not a day goes by that he doesn’t think about me and regret what he did. He called me the love of his life.”
“Tough!” she exploded. “You were the love of his life then, too. It’s not like he just realized this. He told me you were the love of his life when he begged me for your address in Paris. He just didn’t tell me you were his wife, too.”
“He never said it to me before. About being the love of his life. And then I didn’t give him the chance.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Do you think he’s the love of yours?”
“I don’t know. What if he is? What if we’re supposed to be together?”
