Heron Island?”
“No. It’s just…unusual.”
“But not unheard of?”
“No, I guess not.” She blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize you liked it there so much.”
“I love it there.”
Becca’s heart flooded with a rush of warmth. He loved it there? Enough to spend the rest of his life there?
“Is that why you’re marrying a guy who lives in D.C.?” Colin asked. “Because there aren’t enough single men to choose from on the island?”
“What?” Becca froze, stunned by the bluntness of his question. “No. I… Tom and I have been together forever.”
“So it’s comfort? Familiarity?”
“N-no,” Becca stammered. “Of course not. We love each other.”
“Do you want to move to D.C.?”
Becca stared at him. Yes was the obvious answer. Yes was the answer she gave to everyone else. But when she opened her mouth, the word caught in her throat and a bubble of panic welled up inside her.
There had to be a part of her, at least a small part, that was looking forward to moving to D.C. She wanted to live with Tom. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She was in love with him. “It’s going to be an adjustment,” she admitted finally, lifting her chin, “but I think it’ll be good for me.”
“How?”
“I’ve never lived in a city,” she said, falling back on one of the arguments Tom always made when she voiced her own fears. “Everyone should live in a city at least once in their life.”
“Cities are overrated.”
Frustrated, because he was echoing all her own thoughts, she turned and started walking toward the restaurant. She was getting married in three weeks. She was getting married to a man she had met in high school, who she had known almost her entire life. They were going to start a family. They were going to live happily ever after. That was the end of the discussion.
“What neighborhood does your fiancé live in?” Colin asked, his long strides catching up to her easily.
She noticed that he didn’t use Tom’s actual name. For some reason, that pissed her off. “He has an apartment in Woodley Park, but he wants to buy a house in Georgetown.”
“He?”
“We,” she corrected quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I meant, we.”
Colin reached for the door handle when they got to the restaurant. “Georgetown’s a pricey neighborhood.”
Yes, Becca thought. It was very pricey. And it would mean that she would have to let go of her home on the island—a topic she and Tom had had several long discussions about recently.
Tom wanted a place where he could entertain clients and host dinner parties on the weekends, a place that would impress the other partners at his firm.
All she wanted was a place in the country to escape to.
The rent in Woodley Park was high, but nowhere near as high as Georgetown. If they kept the apartment Tom lived in now, they could afford to swing both his rent and her small mortgage payment on their joint incomes.
Colin held the door open for her, and she walked inside.
The scent of lemons and horseradish pulled her into a large dining room filled with at least two hundred people. Laughter and conversations swirled through the air and several waiters in white shirts and black pants circulated with trays of canapés and refreshments.
Several people glanced their way. A group of middle-aged men in khaki pants and sport coats nodded their greeting to Colin. An elderly man wearing a Vietnam Veteran ball cap lifted his beer in a silent salute. Two younger men in polo shirts peeled off from their groups in mid-conversation and headed their way.
Becca felt a sudden sucking sensation, like she was about to be swallowed whole. Resisting the urge to flee, she looked over at the bar, where a cluster of women in their mid-thirties stood with their heads bent together, each of them giving her a dirty look.
Three hours, she thought, squaring her shoulders. Three hours and she’d be back in her car, alone, where she’d have plenty of
“No. It’s just…unusual.”
“But not unheard of?”
“No, I guess not.” She blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize you liked it there so much.”
“I love it there.”
Becca’s heart flooded with a rush of warmth. He loved it there? Enough to spend the rest of his life there?
“Is that why you’re marrying a guy who lives in D.C.?” Colin asked. “Because there aren’t enough single men to choose from on the island?”
“What?” Becca froze, stunned by the bluntness of his question. “No. I… Tom and I have been together forever.”
“So it’s comfort? Familiarity?”
“N-no,” Becca stammered. “Of course not. We love each other.”
“Do you want to move to D.C.?”
Becca stared at him. Yes was the obvious answer. Yes was the answer she gave to everyone else. But when she opened her mouth, the word caught in her throat and a bubble of panic welled up inside her.
There had to be a part of her, at least a small part, that was looking forward to moving to D.C. She wanted to live with Tom. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She was in love with him. “It’s going to be an adjustment,” she admitted finally, lifting her chin, “but I think it’ll be good for me.”
“How?”
“I’ve never lived in a city,” she said, falling back on one of the arguments Tom always made when she voiced her own fears. “Everyone should live in a city at least once in their life.”
“Cities are overrated.”
Frustrated, because he was echoing all her own thoughts, she turned and started walking toward the restaurant. She was getting married in three weeks. She was getting married to a man she had met in high school, who she had known almost her entire life. They were going to start a family. They were going to live happily ever after. That was the end of the discussion.
“What neighborhood does your fiancé live in?” Colin asked, his long strides catching up to her easily.
She noticed that he didn’t use Tom’s actual name. For some reason, that pissed her off. “He has an apartment in Woodley Park, but he wants to buy a house in Georgetown.”
“He?”
“We,” she corrected quickly, squeezing her eyes shut. “I meant, we.”
Colin reached for the door handle when they got to the restaurant. “Georgetown’s a pricey neighborhood.”
Yes, Becca thought. It was very pricey. And it would mean that she would have to let go of her home on the island—a topic she and Tom had had several long discussions about recently.
Tom wanted a place where he could entertain clients and host dinner parties on the weekends, a place that would impress the other partners at his firm.
All she wanted was a place in the country to escape to.
The rent in Woodley Park was high, but nowhere near as high as Georgetown. If they kept the apartment Tom lived in now, they could afford to swing both his rent and her small mortgage payment on their joint incomes.
Colin held the door open for her, and she walked inside.
The scent of lemons and horseradish pulled her into a large dining room filled with at least two hundred people. Laughter and conversations swirled through the air and several waiters in white shirts and black pants circulated with trays of canapés and refreshments.
Several people glanced their way. A group of middle-aged men in khaki pants and sport coats nodded their greeting to Colin. An elderly man wearing a Vietnam Veteran ball cap lifted his beer in a silent salute. Two younger men in polo shirts peeled off from their groups in mid-conversation and headed their way.
Becca felt a sudden sucking sensation, like she was about to be swallowed whole. Resisting the urge to flee, she looked over at the bar, where a cluster of women in their mid-thirties stood with their heads bent together, each of them giving her a dirty look.
Three hours, she thought, squaring her shoulders. Three hours and she’d be back in her car, alone, where she’d have plenty of
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