The Perfect Arrangement (11 page)

“What can I get you?” Patty asked as Nate and I scooted into our seats.

He deferred to me. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head. My stomach was currently engaged in a circus routine. I couldn't eat if I tried.

“I guess it'll just be coffee then.”

Patty scooted off to get our order, and Nate relaxed back into the booth, looking at me with a big, goofy grin.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing. It's just great to be here with you in person.”

The circus performers in my stomach did some fluttery acrobatics. “How's the book?”

“I'm closing in on the end.”

“Do you have anything lined up for after?”

“A couple opportunities have come my way.” His grin didn't falter.

And it was highly contagious. I'm pretty sure the two of us looked like a couple of grinning fools. “Are you really not going to tell me who the celebrity is?”

He shook his head. “My lips are sealed.”

Patty returned, set two mugs in front of us, filled both to the brim, and slipped away.

Nate crossed his arms on the table and leaned toward me. “Your shop is pretty great.”

“Thank you.”

“I saw the picture of you and your mom on the wall.”

“Yeah?”

“You two look a lot alike.”

“I definitely got her hair. But she wore the red prettier, I'm afraid.”

“I don't think that's possible.”

My skin prickled with pleasure, all the way up into my hairline. “So, twenty-four?”

“Any more guesses?”

I took a slow sip of my coffee, keeping eye contact over the rim of my mug. “Number of articles you've written?”

“No, but that's a good guess.”

“Countries you've visited?”

“I wish.”

“Number of girls you're currently in correspondence with?”

He let out a bark of laughter, then eased his arm over the backrest of the booth. He was perfection sitting across from me—absolute perfection. And he was here. With me. By choice. Laughing like he was enjoying it as much as I was enjoying it. “I like you, Amelia.”

The words heated up every square inch of my skin. “I like you too.”

“Enough to let me tag along to Wisconsin's biggest corn maze?”

With him looking at me the way he did, the word
no
dropped completely out of my vocabulary.

Nate picked me up in the same car I rear-ended in September. He walked up to my house and rang my doorbell and met Baxter, who liked him instantly. A good sign. The fifteen-
minute drive had me hyperaware. Of my body, of his body, the closeness of our arms as they rested on the console. And holy cow, he smelled good. We agreed to meet William and Bridget at seven in front of the barn entrance, where the Sawyers sold their tickets—for the petting zoo, hayrack rides, a barnyard haunted house, and of course, the corn maze.

Gravel crunched beneath Nate's tires as he parked in the makeshift lot. Nate told me to sit tight and came around to open my door. The night was chillier than normal for mid-October. Enough that I'd worn my winter coat and a scarf. Nate had on a corduroy jacket that fit him well. Even though my hands were freezing, I kept them out of my pockets. We walked toward the big red barn, puffs of frozen breath escaping into the dark, our knuckles every bit as close as our arms had been on the console.

I spotted William and Bridget first. They waved hello as we approached. I had called my brother earlier and given the two of them strict orders not to ask how Nate and I met, that it was too embarrassing to bring up. I blew heat into my palms and rubbed my hands together as the four of us stepped inside the barn. There wasn't a very long line. The cold had chased a lot of people away. I reached inside my coat pocket to remove the twenty-dollar bill I'd stuffed inside, but Nate removed his billfold and asked for two tickets to the corn maze. I protested. “You're my guest. That means I should pay.”

“But I invited myself, remember? And there's no use arguing. My last name is Gallagher. We Irish are stubborn folk.”

I peered up at him. “You don't look Irish.”

“That's because I take after my mom, who is Italian. I'm afraid Italians are every bit as stubborn as the Irish, which means I have a double dose of it running through my veins.” He winked. “Another one of my faults.”

Once the tickets were purchased, the four of us strolled to the maze entrance. Stadium-type lights had been set up around the periphery, casting enough glow down onto the cornfield that we could see. The girl who took our tickets asked if we wanted maps. Nate declined, insisting it would be cheating. As soon as we stepped inside, we were faced with one of two choices—left or right.

“I have an idea,” William said. “Bridget and I go left. You two go right. Whoever comes out last buys the other couple hamburgers at Patty's afterward.”

Nate looked down at me, that irresistible twinkle in his eyes, as if to say it was my call.

“You have yourself a deal,” I said.

William grabbed Bridget by the waist and hurried left. They disappeared to the sound of her giggling.

Nate and I were officially alone. Surrounded by giant stalks of corn.

We started off, this time with my hands in my pockets. Even if the air between us did spark with heat, it was too cold to leave them out. Off in the distance, some teenagers shrieked.

“Number of gum sticks you've stuffed into your mouth at one time.”

Nate's brow furrowed. “What?”

“Twenty-four.”

He laughed. “Do I have a big mouth or something?”

The darkness had me feeling bold. “You have a nice mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

We reached another fork in the path. Nate let me pick. I chose left.

“Number of Audrey Hepburn movies you own?”

He laughed again. “I don't think she's in that many movies, is she?”

“I don't know. You're the classic movie expert.”

“You're not an amateur yourself.”

The wind rustled the corn. Crickets chirped a slow melody. The cold had slowed down their leg-rubbing.

“What got you interested in them?” I asked.

“My college roommate freshman year. He was a film student and absolutely obsessed with Judy Garland. I'm not kidding. He covered his entire side of the room with posters of her. It was weird. He was always watching the old black-and-whites.” We came to another fork. Nate chose right. I don't think either of us was in a hurry to get to the end. “I started watching them with him and discovered they were pretty great. The interest stuck.” Nate picked up a stick and dragged the tip along the stalks. “What about you?”

“My dad was a big fan. We used to curl up on the couch together and watch them. One time, when I was in fourth grade, I was sick with the stomach flu for an entire week. He stayed home with me and we had a movie marathon. Started with musicals—
Singing in the Rain
,
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers
. Then we moved on to some others. He was a quiet man—my dad. But a big romantic at heart.”

Nate raised his eyebrow. “Like his daughter.”

“You think I'm romantic?”

“A crush on Mr. Darcy? A fan of fairy tales? Owner of a flower shop? I'd say yes, most definitely.” He did it so smoothly, so suavely, I barely noticed it happening. One second my hand was tucked inside my coat pocket, the next it was out, my fingers entwined with his. It made my stomach swoop, and every single one of my nerve endings tingle.

“Holy mackerel, your fingers are frozen.” He stopped in the middle of the maze, took both of my hands, and rubbed them between his larger ones. I didn't feel the least bit cold. In fact, I felt very, very warm. He must have sensed the change in temperature too, because his rubbing slowed, then stopped altogether.

I looked up at him, my heart racing so fast I was positive he could hear it.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

My breathing turned shallow.

He set his hand on the small of my back, drew me closer, dipped his chin . . .

And then a laughing couple rounded the corner and the two of us fell apart.

My brain was so fuzzy, my body so hot, I didn't pay much attention to who the couple was. Nate, however, released a disbelieving laugh. “Chelse?”

“Nate?” she said in return.

My breathing went from shallow to nonexistent.

“What are you two doing here?” Nate asked.

“Your little sister wanted to go out on her birthday weekend, and so here we are, at the Sawyer Farm corn maze.”
Matt wrapped his arm around her waist. “We're a wild and crazy married couple, I tell ya.”

The two of them closed the gap between us. I really, really wished they wouldn't.

“Never mind what we're doing here. What are you doing here?” Chelsea punched Nate's arm, then looked at me, her expression morphing from delighted to startled. “Amelia?”

“Amelia?” Matt parroted.

My mouth went as dry as cotton.

Nate's attention shot from his sister to me to Matt. “You guys know each other?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure we do. Amelia and I . . .”

“Amelia and Matt were college sweethearts.” Chelsea tucked her arm around her husband's elbow. “They dated for
four
years. What in the world are you two doing together?”

“We, uh . . .” I swallowed, not at all sure what to say.

Nate looked like a deer in the headlights, watching his life flash before his eyes. Only instead of his life, he was probably replaying our run-in outside the church all those days ago when our worlds collided. Judging by the flicker in his brow, the pieces were coming together.

What a nightmare.

A lump as hard as a rock had parked itself inside my throat. I sat listlessly on my couch in the dark, Baxter curled up in my lap. Nate had dropped me off thirty minutes earlier. I
hadn't taken off my coat. I hadn't taken off my shoes. I'd just plopped down on this cushion and turned comatose.

After our run-in with the two people on the face of the planet I never wanted to run into, we ended up completing the rest of the maze with them. Matt and Chelsea went on and on about what a small world it was and how unbelievable it was that we knew each other. Neither seemed to notice that Nate and I didn't have much to contribute to the conversation. I was too busy holding back tears to join in.

Once we came out, Chelsea and Matt said their goodbyes, and Nate and I waited for William and Bridget, who hadn't come out yet. I attempted to apologize, maybe a million different times in the five minutes we waited, but I didn't know how. All the tingling sensations had turned into this rock-hard lump in my throat that refused to leave. It was obvious Nate didn't want to be there anymore. It was obvious I'd made him feel like a complete fool.

When William and Bridget appeared, I feigned a headache and Nate dropped me off at home. Neither of us put our arms on the console during the drive. Now here I sat, alone in my dark house with Baxter on a Saturday night, something I'd always been fine with . . . until now. Now the entire scenario felt too depressing for words. I tucked Baxter beneath my arm and headed into the kitchen nook, booted up my computer, and opened my e-mail.

Dear Nate,

I am so sorry.

I punched the Delete button over and over until the four words were gone, then tried again.

Well, that was awkward.

Delete, delete, delete.

I'm sure you are thinking that I still have a thing for my ex.

Delete, delete, delete.

I buried my face in my hands and shook my head.
Lord, what am I supposed to say?
I rubbed my eyes and waited for the words to come. When it was all typed out, I saved the e-mail as a draft and closed my laptop.