If This Was a Movie (Evergreen Park #2)

Chapter 7 – Nate

SEVEN

NATE

“Are you terrorizing Jules?” I ask, walking over to where my sisters are nearly doubled over with laughter, Sophie smiling like she wants to get the joke but is only five, and Jules looking like she might try and run.

Claire stands and shakes her head, brushing a tear from her eyes as she catches her breath. “Only a little,” she says. “We’re Donovan-waying her, and it’s sending her spiraling.”

“Ah, yeah, that’ll do it,” I say, then look over my shoulder at where Mark, the fire chief, is making his way over to us. I turn back to Jules. “So I talked to Mark, and as you know, you can’t stay here. So?—”

“She’s going to stay in the cottage!” Claire interrupts.

“And you’re going to fix her place,” Sloane says.

“She’s also going to help babysit Sophie when you need her,” Sutton adds.

“And Ashlyn is going to fall in love with you!” Sophie shouts, clearly excited by this grand plan.

“Shh! Soph, you’re going to freak her out!” Claire says.

“Oh, sorry, Jules!” Sophie says with a giggle.

I look to Jules, who does, in fact, look slightly more freaked out than before, and sigh, turning to her completely.

My fucking sisters make everything so much more complicated than it needs to be.

“Ignore them, okay? First things first, you’re going to go up with Mark and grab some things for a day or so. That’s step one. Then we’ll worry about step two when that’s done.” Slowly, the tiniest glimmer of relief flashes into her eyes, and I begin to understand just how overwhelmed she is. “I’ll handle all of them, don’t worry,” I say, tipping my head to the four meddling Donovans, and Jules nods.

“Ready?” Mark asks, coming up beside our huddle. Jules nods, then tries to shrug out of my jacket.

“Keep it for now,” I insist, my rarely used dad voice coming out.

She stares at me, ready to argue, but must see it’s pointless. Without another word, she turns to follow him into her building.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Sloane asks as soon as the door closes behind them, and I sigh, knowing my nosy sisters will never let this die. Even as it was happening, I knew I shouldn’t have drank too much that night in February and let it spill to my youngest sister. “Your dream girl?”

“She’s not my dream girl, Sloane,” I say, running a hand through my hair. She was just a girl I thought was my dream girl before she ghosted me because I came on way too strong. And now it’s like my fucking sisters are repeating history.

“If I remember when you were drinking that tequila, you told me you’d met your dream girl, hung out with her for two nights, and thought you were going to marry her just like Dad did with Mom. Then she disappeared,” Claire recalls with a smug smile.

“Weren’t you drinking too?” I ask, frustrated.

Her smile goes wider, and it looks exactly like the girl who used to make my life misery when we were kids, always finding out my secrets and using them as blackmail.

It seems that hasn’t changed at all.

“No, my sweet Nathan,” she starts, patting my cheek. “I saw it for what it was, a perfect opportunity to pull all of your deepest, darkest secrets out in your moment of weakness, and I pounced.”

Sounds about right.

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“You love me. Now, about my friend being your dream girl. That’s not a coincidence, and you know it.”

My middle sister nods in agreement.

“Things like this, Nate…they don’t happen for no reason. It’s a sign, some kind of miracle, that you’re finding her like this again,” Sutton says. Of all of us, she’s the most like Mom with her belief that everything is a sign.

“A Christmas miracle!” Sophie shouts, and I close my eyes to take a deep breath, trying to find the will not to lose it.

“You guys?—”

“She has nowhere to stay. You know how the hotels here get during the holiday season.” Claire adds. “Even before I knew all of this was happening”—she waves her hand toward me—“I was calling you to see if you’d be okay with a total stranger staying in the cottage while she figured things out. She’s a friend, and I don’t want her going three towns over and staying in a sketchy motel.”

“But it turns out she’s not a total stranger, so now there’s no reason not to help out a damsel in distress,” Sloane continues with a pointed look.

“Just like all of the movies! The prince saves the princess, and then they fall in love!” Sophie is nearly jumping with excitement now.

I stare up at the night sky, stars shining, and I wonder who up there is watching my life as their own personal reality show.

I hope it’s entertaining, at least.

“Soph, we gotta play it cool,” Sutton says to my daughter, pulling her into her side and lowering her voice. “If we freak your dad out with our super secret Christmas plan, he’s never going to agree.” She winks at my daughter, and Sophie gives Sutton a sage, all-knowing nod.

“Got it,” my daughter says to her aunt before giving her a thumbs-up. Claire and Sloane snort out a laugh.

“The reality is, Nate, if you say no, you’re going to have the three of us, Sophie, and Mom, mad at you. You know this town: I give it three hours until word gets to Mom, and you know somehow she’s going to know about everything.”

Whether Sloane means Jules not having a place to stay or our history, or Claire’s meddling, it doesn’t matter, it’s true either way. Sighing, I know there’s no way to avoid this, so I nod. “Fine, I’ll offer, but I’m not forcing her to stay with me.”

“Of course! Of course!” Claire says, all three sisters nodding vehemently in a way I do not believe at all.

“And I don’t want you to either. She stopped talking to me for a reason, and no matter what, we have to respect that. In fact, I think you should head out so we don’t overwhelm her anymore. I’ll figure the rest out.”

To my shock and awe, there are nods of agreement, and Claire offers to drive Sutton and Sloane home. Never in my life have I seen my sisters leave anywhere so quickly, each giving Sophie a kiss and me a hug before walking off, whispering and giggling to each other.

Even though I want to be annoyed with their meddling, I can’t.

Because whether she likes it or not, Jules is going to be sleeping on my property tonight, and I can’t be mad about that.

“What are you still doing here?” Jules asks when she walks out of her building with Mark and walks our way. She changed while she was up there, now in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, my jacket pulled on over top with a large lavender-colored duffel bag over her shoulder.

The jacket looks much better on her than me, even if it’s three sizes too big.

“Waiting for you,” I say with a smile.

“Why?” she asks, clearly confused.

“Because,” I start, taking her bag before she can argue and hefting it over my shoulder. “I feel like we have a lot to talk about.”

She sighs, standing before me with her arms crossed on her chest, exhaustion clear in her eyes. “I’ve had a really, really long night, Nate,” she starts. “I appreciate your con?—”

“Where are you going tonight?” I ask, cutting her off.

“What?” She looks at me, brows furrowed in confusion like the words don’t make any sense.

“Where are you going tonight? A friend’s place? Family?”

“I’ll probably book a hotel room for the night and figure something more long-term out after that. I can’t move in until the town reapproves.” She straightens her shoulders like she’s preparing for an argument. “I’ll get more info on timelines and whatnot tomorrow?—”

“No, you won’t,” I say bluntly.

“What?”

“You won’t get more information tomorrow. I work in this industry, and you’re not going to get more info unless you already have a contractor on speed dial. And even then, it’s Saturday. Chances of them being able to get the right info and rush things to get you answers tomorrow? Very slim.” Her jaw goes tight, and I watch as she tries to rework whatever plan she’s made in her mind, but I smile. “Luckily, I happen to be a contractor with all the right contacts.”

“That’s not—” she starts, but I interrupt her.

“When was the last time you ate?” I ask. It’s almost seven, and I know by now that Sophie is starving, even if she won’t admit it because of all the excitement.

“What?” Jules asks, confused by the change in subject.

“Last time you ate. I specifically remember you telling me you snack all day, eat every three hours, or you get cranky.” Her head moves back like she’s confused, unsure of why I remember that tiny fact she shared with me, but she doesn’t know I remember everything about her.

“It’s every two hours, but?—”

“So let’s go. Come to dinner with us,” I say, tipping my head down the block and starting to move.

“Dinner?” she asks, moving to follow us reluctantly, though she doesn’t have much of a choice, considering I have her bag. I wave at one of the firefighters wrapping things up, but I don’t miss Sophie letting go of my hand and switching sides on the walkway to grab Jules’s.

“Daddy said we’d go to the diner where they sing! Do you like grilled cheeses?” Sophie shouts, still not having figured out volume control yet.

Jules bites her lip, looking so fucking cute as she does, clearly trying to weigh her choices but not wanting to be rude to a five-year-old. Eventually, she nods. “Yes, I love them, especially from the diner. Have you ever had their milkshakes?”

Sophie squeals with excitement. “No! Can we get one, Dad? Please!”

I laugh, and Jules gives me a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says under her breath.

I shake my head. “No worries. Yeah, Soph, but a small one and only if you eat real food, too.”

Without looking, I know Sophie rolls her eyes at me, a habit she picked up from Claire. “Yes, Dad,” she grumbles.

“Good thing your Aunt Claire is leaving, Soph, because you’re getting much too sassy.” My daughter just smiles at me.

“Where’d your sisters go?” Jules asks, belatedly looking around and realizing it’s just us.

“Home, probably to call my mom and tell her all about this shit show.” She gives me a small smile, and even though I’m pretty sure this, having an us, isn’t an option anymore, it makes my heart skip a beat. “Come on, let’s get you fed.”

Then I’m opening the door to the diner, the noise tumbling out onto the street as we enter so I can get my girls fed.