Family Reunion by Nancy Thayer (ereader android .TXT) 📗

They were both ambitious. Peter wanted to become a judge. Ari wanted to run a daycare for single mothers, paid for by the donations of people like her parents. They talked endlessly about their plans over the summer when they didn’t go to camp. Instead, Peter came to stay with Ari for two weeks on Nantucket in her grandmother’s house. In separate bedrooms, of course.

The fall of their senior year, Peter asked her to marry him. Caught up in the moment, she said yes. Peter was admitted to Harvard Law, an impressive accomplishment that made Ari’s mother rapturous. Ari was admitted to the graduate program in early childhood education at Boston University. He took her to his home for Christmas. Ari took Peter to her house for New Year’s Eve.

If, sometimes, Ari wondered if she really loved Peter, her friends made fun of her doubts.

“You’ve been together for so long, you’re like an old married couple already,” Katie Warren said.

“You are so obvs meant to be together,” insisted Sophia Brannagan.

“I’ll tell you the exact truth,” Laura Hunter said. “You want gooey love to come all at once, at first sight, in some blinding fiery revelation that makes your little red heart pound. But that’s only infatuation, and you know that leads to disappointment. What you have with Peter is true love, the daily kind that allows you to be mad at each other and still make love at night.”

“You’re right,” Ari agreed. She conjured up an image of the lodge on the shores of Lake Winnipesaukee that she and Peter had reserved for the last Saturday in August. They would be married there, on the shore, even if it rained. The lodge had rooms for their families and several friends, and the owners catered. Ari would wear a ring of fresh flowers in her hair.

Now all that had to be canceled.

Before going out, Ari checked herself in the mirror. Long brown hair, blue eyes, five foot ten and slender, she’d been compared to Kate Middleton often. She and Peter were exactly the same height, as long as she didn’t wear high heels. Today was one of those freak spring days that acted like summer, hot and humid, and as Ari walked toward the bench by the Malesardi Quadrangle, she went slowly, telling herself she didn’t want to get all sweaty. But really, she was dreading this meeting, even though she was determined to get it done. Fortunately, the campus was empty. The students had left, except for a few stragglers like Ari.

As she neared the half circle of benches, she saw that Peter was already there. Of course he was. Punctuality was important to him. With him, over the past four years, she’d been rushing through every moment, not being late for classes, studying for tests, partying with friends. Even making love with Peter had always happened in a rush. As much as he wanted her, Peter was terrified of being caught in the act. Ari had joked with her best friend Meloni that having sex with Peter Anderson was like wrestling with a nervous puppy. Ari was certain that when Peter felt safe in his life, he would settle down and take things more slowly. She had learned during their time together that while Peter presented a cool, unflustered façade, in his heart and mind he was harried by insecurities.

Peter was at his best when he was at home with his family, although of course Ari and Peter never made love when they were there. He played driveway basketball with his younger brother and his dad and hugged his mom all the time. He would be a good husband and father, Ari decided. He liked being part of something, liked teamwork, liked making his sister laugh and his father praise him and his mother force one more piece of her special chocolate cake on him. The Anderson family was so unlike Ari’s, it made her envious. When she took Peter home to celebrate New Year’s Eve, her mother had been unusually sweet and attentive, no doubt thrilled that Ari was with a man who intended to go into the law. Ari’s father was welcoming in his normal vague way. Phillip Paget was a surgeon, which impressed Peter and his parents, but when he was at home, he seemed to melt. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of him by his exacting work. Ari privately thought her father was simply exhausted, defeated, from living with his social-climbing, money-hungry, seldom-satisfied wife. Ari was certainly wearied by her mother.

But Ari had never felt madly, crazily, hopelessly in love with Peter. Each year, each month, Peter grew bossier, more arrogant, and less pleasant. She was quite sure she didn’t want to spend her life with him. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she didn’t want to live in misery.

Ari needed to break up with him now. She had to be quick and decisive, kind but unyielding. She’d tried several times to do it gradually, and that had never worked.

There he was, standing beneath a cherry tree, smiling.

Peter caught sight of her. He ran a few steps to catch Ari in his arms. “Hey! We’re almost outta this burg.”

She shook off his hands and stepped back. Thank God no one else was within hearing distance. Her heart thumped hard with anxiety, and when she spoke, she was almost breathless. Her words flew out in a hurried flutter. “Peter, listen to me. I have to tell you. I can’t marry you, Peter. No—I don’t want to marry you. I’ve been thinking and thinking, and we’re wrong for each other. I’m breaking up with you.”

Her hands were clasped in front of her as if she were Queen Elizabeth giving a speech. She didn’t want to touch him.

Peter froze. After a moment, he grinned. “This is a joke, right?”

“No. No joke. I’m sorry. I don’t love you, Peter. I don’t want to have a life with you.” She knew him so