tell me why you’re still married to the guy.”
Across the party, Caitlyn broke into high laughter as she clutched Matthew’s arm. Eric looked bored while her husband continued talking his ear off. Matthew looked as charming as ever, though he darted another glance my way.
Jane cleared her throat. And at that, I finally managed to find my legs again.
“Maybe one day we can investigate the state of my marriage and life’s purpose,” I said as I stood. “But for now, I think I’ll go riding for a bit before dinner after all. Will you let Olivia know if she comes looking for me?”
Jane nodded, still watching me carefully. “Sure,” she said. “But, Nina? Be careful.”
I didn’t have to ask whether she meant with the horses or my heart. Her meaning was perfectly clear.
Chapter Eighteen
I was fourteen the first time I was allowed to take a horse—my horse—out without a trainer. Coral was a ring sour Andalusian—trained too young, scared of the whip, and unable to compete. To make up for missing yet another birthday, my father paid a small fortune to make her my “beach horse” instead of a brood mare for her irritated owners. She was as skittish and temperamental at seven as I was at fourteen. But perhaps that made us kindred spirits, because from the moment I approached her, apple in hand, it was love at first sight for us both.
How many evenings had I escaped here as a teenager from my mother’s vapidity, my friends’ shallow behavior, my grandmother’s tyranny? How many times had I sat on the stool just inside and leaned on Coral’s warm, big body, seeking comfort and affection from the only person—yes, my horse was a person to me, in all the ways that mattered—who would give it in those days?
When I returned from Italy, pregnant and heartbroken, I had come straight to Long Island, straight to this stable. And then again after meeting Calvin. It was here, in the hay, after I had cried all my tears out with my horse, that I had really decided to be a mother, much more so than that day in the clinic.
Coral’s velvety gray nose poked out of her stall almost as soon as I entered the stables, nickering softly, almost as though not to disturb the other horses chomping quietly on their hay.
“Hello, Cor.” I offered her the apple I’d nicked from the kitchen on my way out. “How’ve you been, my love? Hmm?”
Coral made quick work of the apple, then snorted as she shoved her nose under my arm, looking for another.
“Well, aren’t we a little porker?” I teased, rubbing a hand over the white spots that dappled between her eyes and admiring the way her long lashes curled as she leaned into the touch. “I know, I know. It’s been a while. Livy’s been home, and I’ve been busy…with things. I’m sorry. I’ll be out every weekend this summer, I promise.”
Coral chuffed lightly, much like she was calling me on my bluff, and stomped one hoof on the ground.
I chuckled. “Okay, maybe not every weekend. But more, I promise.”
I pulled a carrot from my pocket, which she chomped quickly. When she was done, she didn’t look for more, though, just stood stock-still, allowing me to run my hands over her cheeks, between her eyes, over her long, graceful neck. Her willingness to accept love, whenever and wherever, was, as always, my undoing. My chest squeezed. Why couldn’t people be this simple?
Coral chuffed again, and this time nuzzled toward me, looking for my neck.
I sighed as I pressed my cheek to hers. “I can’t talk about it. Not here.”
She didn’t move, almost as if she knew I needed the extra contact. For all her skittishness around others, she was ever-patient with me.
I patted her cheek and stepped back. “Come on, my love. Let’s get you ready. I’ll tell you everything once we’re out in the open.”
I opened the stall and went inside to loop a harness around her head before leading her to the tack room, where she stood obediently, waiting for me to get her ready for a ride. The other riders in the family usually called down to have the trainer prep the horses before they got here, but I preferred to do it myself. It was soothing, connecting, brushing Coral’s warm flanks, cleaning her hooves, laying the blanket, then the saddle. Connections, touches, between her big, warm body and mine. In some ways, hers was the longest relationship I’d