No Matter, You Don't Have to Wait for Me novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Broker Fee

Justine refuses to pay, and Dario comes to her clinic sure she will be back by Sunday. She agrees to come to his parents' lunch and bring the ring, then learns his father quietly booked a hotel room for Gemma.

I answered the broker fee text at seven the next morning, standing in my cousin's kitchen in yesterday's cardigan.

No.

Three dots appeared and disappeared, and appeared again.

You're kidding. It's due Friday.

Then you should ask the people on the lease.

I put the phone face down on the counter and ate dry toast.

Sunday passed without another word, which told me what I needed to know.

The hotel had sent its notice, and Dario had read it and decided it was a mistake.

On Monday he showed up at my clinic.

I work in a children's speech clinic in Brooklyn, and at noon the waiting room is full of parents and small kids with picture cards.

He walked in with two iced coffees and a face he uses for apologies he doesn't mean.

"Hey. Can we talk?"

The woman at the front desk looked at me.

"It's fine," I said. "Give me five minutes."

We stood by the fish tank, where a boy of four was feeding an imaginary shark.

Dario handed me a coffee, and I let it sit in my hand.

"The hotel emailed me," he said. "They said the wedding is cancelled. Some ridiculous form with your name on it."

"I filled it out Saturday."

"Come on, Justine."

"I'm not joking."

He laughed, a short one, and looked around to see who was listening.

"You're upset about the seating chart. Fine. I shouldn't have moved you without asking. But you cancelled a whole wedding over a chair?"

"I cancelled it over four keys and a sofa bed," I said. "The chair was just the last thing I saw."

"The lease is paperwork."

"The menu was paperwork too, apparently."

"You're taking this personally."

"It was my wedding, Dario."

He rubbed his face with one hand and sighed, the way he did when I was being slow about something.

"Okay. You're angry, and you're a little scared. Everybody gets scared before a wedding. Take a few days at your cousin's."

"I will."

"And then you'll come back." He said it easily. "You always come back."

"When did I leave before?"

"Christmas. Four years ago. You went to your mother's, and you were back in two days."

"My mother had the flu, and I came back because you'd left a note saying you couldn't find the thermostat."

He opened his mouth and shut it.

A mother across the room was pretending to read a magazine, and her little girl was staring at us openly.

"Justine. Please. I don't have time for a scene. Landlord, investors, the move. Just pay the fee, and we'll fix everything Sunday."

"What's Sunday?"

"Lunch at my parents'. My mom's making lasagna, and she wants to go over the guest list."

"Your mother thinks there's still a wedding."

"She thinks there's a wedding because there is a wedding." He lowered his voice. "I told her you were stressed. I told her you're bringing the ring to get resized, since you lost weight."

I had not lost weight.

The ring sat on my finger, a thin gold band with a small stone, the one he had picked out in a hurry on a lunch break.

I looked at it, and then I looked at him.

His mother had made me a birthday cake every year for six years, and she wrote my name on it herself.

She did not deserve to hear this from a text.

"I'll come Sunday," I said.

His shoulders came down. "Thank you. See, that's all I wanted."

"And I'll bring the ring."

"Good. That's perfect. Maybe you can wear something blue. Mom likes blue on you."

He kissed my cheek before I could move.

On his way out he stopped by the front desk and smiled at the woman there.

"She's a keeper," he told her. "Don't let her work too hard."

The woman looked at me over her glasses.

When the door had closed, she said, "I had a husband like that. He sent flowers every time he wanted a favor."

"I didn't ask," I said.

"Honey, nobody ever asks."

I carried the coffee to the sink and poured it out.

Then I called the hotel.

"Brooklyn Harbor, this is Donovan Reeve."

"It's Justine Halstead. I have one question about the refund."

"The deposits will be back on your card by Wednesday."

"That's not my question. Does Dario's name appear on anything the hotel holds? A hold on the ballroom, a second booking, anything?"

There was a short quiet on the line, and the sound of a keyboard.

"One thing, Ms. Halstead," he said. "A room hold for the night of the fourteenth. It was made in June."

"By who?"

"A Mr. Benedetti, the older one, paid by phone. The room is for a Ms. Fontana."

"Gemma?" I said. "Why would Dario's father book Gemma a room?"

"I don't know," Donovan said. "That is why I noticed."

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