Slip of the Tongue (Slip of the Tongue 1)

“Why? Did he find something?” He glances at my luggage. “He kicked you out?”

“No.”

“You’re leaving him?”

“No.”

“You’re not making sense. Look . . .” Still looming in the doorway, he drops his head. His hair is my favorite this way, tousled, ungroomed, a bit dirty. He could use a haircut, but if he were mine, I’d ask him to wait a little longer. He raises his eyes and inhales deeply. His body broadens. “I’m not going to beg any more than I already have,” he says. “But if he questions you, if he doubts you—I don’t. I want you in my life. For good.” He gestures behind me, around the hallway. “I don’t think all this—ending up in the same building when we needed each other most—was a mistake.”

It would be easy to give in to him. Not many people would walk away from fate or a man like this. I’ve made up my mind, though. I don’t think I could change it back if I wanted to. “I don’t know what’ll happen with Nathan,” I say. “But I know I can’t walk away.”

“He’s been nothing but awful to you since I’ve known you.”

“It’s complicated. If I were to start something with you now, I’d always wonder if I should’ve fought harder for my marriage.”

“I can be patient. You don’t have to give me everything today. Just say yes, and it will come.”

I shake my head. “How long would you wait?”

He opens his mouth, but stops when he realizes I’m not expecting an answer. There is no answer.

“So is this goodbye?” His grip on the doorframe relaxes. “Or see you later?”

I set my bag down to take off my Burberry coat. “It’s goodbye.”

“Jesus.” He furrows his brows. “Stop. I don’t want the coat.”

“It makes me feel worse.” I hold it out. I realize my hands are trembling. This isn’t easy. As cold as I’m being to him, there is a part of me that wants to curl up in his warmth and shut the world out for a few hours. “Please. Take it.”

With some hesitation, he accepts the coat. We’re close enough that I can see the gooey-honey flecks that lure me into his green eyes. He sighs, frustrated. “Will a grand gesture change your mind?”

I touch my collarbone and glance at the ground. Finn’s faith in us is unshakeable. I hope he finds what he’s so desperately searching for. We’ve become unusually close in so little time, and it sometimes feels as though we’ve actually known each other since those first, brief moments in the coffee shop. He’s a friend I’ll be sorry to lose. “Any girl would be—”

“Stop,” he says. “That kind of bullshit won’t help.”

“It’s not bullshit.” I stay quiet until his focus returns to me from whatever he’s mulling over. “If things were different, I’d never be able to walk away from you. Not ever. I don’t know how I got up from my chair all those years ago and left you there. Maybe it was fate that made me.”

He flinches. “Ouch.”

“And maybe it’s the reason I’m walking away now. When you find the woman who makes you happy—truly happy—you can thank me then.”

He glances between my lips and eyes. He looks unconvinced, but I wouldn’t have expected anything less. “Do you think I deserve to be happy after everything we’ve done?”

I don’t have to consider it. Finn is a lot of things, and we’ve both made mistakes, but he’s not a bad person. “Absolutely. Without question.”

“Then so do you.”

I curl my fingers over my chest as my heart skips—but not for Finn. For what’s waiting for me in my apartment. For the happiness Nathan and I have ahead of us, happiness we deserve. “I know.”

Finn takes my head in his paw-like hands and presses his lips to my forehead. We stay that way for a few seconds. Finally, he says, “I think I love you.”

I grit my teeth against the lump growing in my throat. Love can be so impractical and inconvenient. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though, even if it comes from the wrong person. It is possible to fall in love within moments of knowing a person. It happened to me the first day Nathan and I spent together. “Thank you.”

He releases me. “If he’s ever anything less than perfect to you—”

“I will still love him,” I say and mean it. “I’m beginning to see that perfection is overrated.”

“Just know that you can always come back to me.” He smiles sadly. “Especially if you have a dark chocolate pistachio croissant.”

Our smiles are genuine, but they’re quick. His familiar soapy smell tugs at my heart. I don’t want to live without it, but I can. I will. He lifts his hand and mouths “bye” as he shuts the door.

The apartment is quiet. Ginger’s fast asleep on her dog bed in the living room. I don’t wake her, but I get on the ground to inspect her bandaged paws. On the kitchen counter, I find a note from Nathan.

2:15 p.m. gave meds/painkillers.

It’s after three. Next to it is a bag of things from the vet. I read the label of Ginger’s antibiotics. She’ll need another dose tonight. Nathan’s moved the kitchen table back from the living room, and the salad bowl I knocked over is on the drying rack. I remember my phone was next to it, so I get on my hands and knees and find it under the refrigerator.

It’s dead. I go to the bedroom and plug it into a charger. My most recent missed call is from an unknown number twenty minutes ago. I sit on the bed and listen to the voicemail.

“Hello, Mrs. Hunt. I’m calling from New York Presbyterian. We’ve been trying to get ahold of your husband about his father.” I clutch the phone as dread floods me. “Ralph’s health is declining quickly, and we’re afraid he won’t make it through the night. Please give us a call as soon as you can.”

I pull the phone way and stare at the screen. My mind goes blank. We’ve been expecting this, but it seemed like it would never really happen. It feels too soon. The phone is cold from being on the floor. I press it to my forehead and think. Nathan isn’t here. Is he already on his way? Where else could he be?

I call and speak to a nurse. “Ralph Hunt?” she repeats when I ask how he’s doing. It’s quiet except for typing in the background. “Are you a relative?”

“Daughter-in-law.”

She makes a thoughtful noise. “You should get here as soon as you can.”

“Have you reached his son? My husband?”

“Not yet,” she says. “Can you find him?”

Nathan told me last night he’d be waiting for me. He could be at work, but I can’t envision him sitting at his desk today when both Ginger and I need him. He was here an hour ago. Knowing Nathan is struggling, there’s only one other place I can think of that he might be. A place he goes for clarification, answers, and to remind himself of the important things. “I’ll get him there,” I say.

“Great. Then we’ll see you soon.”

I check to make sure I have no recent messages from Nathan, but he knows I didn’t have my phone. The only ones are from yesterday when he was looking for me.

I try his cell. After the fourth ring, I reach his voicemail. “You have reached the mailbox of six-four-six—”

His phone is on, but there’s no reason he’d be out of touch—unless he’s where I thought he’d be. The soup kitchen. When he serves food, he always turns his ringer off. I grab my phone with the charger and my purse. Ralph is alone—Nathan is alone. It’s my responsibility to bring them together. I run downstairs and into the street, flagging down the first taxi that passes.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks.

“Family-kind soup kitchen on Sixth and Fifteenth.”

I don’t even have to tell him to hustle, because he slams on the gas pedal. During the drive, I pinch the bridge of my nose and compose myself. Nathan will need me to be his rock. Since Nate’s mom moved away, he and his father have gotten much closer. This won’t come as a surprise to Nathan, but that won’t make it any less difficult.

When we arrive, I tell the driver to wait at the curb. The late afternoon is cr

isp and gray. There’s a line out front of the shelter, mostly young men and women, some with children. Through a window, I spot Nathan behind a banquet wearing an apron and a smile. If he’s happy in this moment, I don’t want to take that away—we’ve hurt each other enough recently. I have to dig deep for the strength to break his heart again, but it’s there. Out of time, I unearth it as I open the door and go inside.