Chapter 38
38
Natalia
present
I left a couple of hours after the service, catching a flight just after midnight. Hayden stayed back a couple of extra days before leaving his mom’s side on Sunday night. We haven’t seen each other since Hayden dropped me off at the airport. Our last exchange was a text message from me to him letting him know that I made it back to New York City in one piece and that I left my laptop charger at his house the last time I had to jump on to answer some emails.
There’s been no further discussion of our kiss. What it means, if it means anything at all. But I feel more confused than ever. The look smeared across his face when he stopped our kiss scared me more than anything else. I’m scared that he regretted it. Not because he didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but because he didn’t want to journey down a path he wasn’t sure he wanted to take. To test the waters of us only to realize it wasn’t worth the trouble.
And what of our lonely hearts? This whole time, us leaning on each other through our bouts of loneliness has remained intact because we’ve been able to see each other as just that: a shoulder to lean on when needed. But that line seems to blur now, creating this bottomless pit of doubt and questions to linger like a promise that was never to be made.
When I walk into my office on Monday, after a quick greeting to José, I settle into the work that piled up during my week-long absence, only working from my laptop in between the memorial service and nostalgic visits to my old stomping grounds. As I’m elbow deep in emails, I’m interrupted by a ping on my phone with a new text message from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: So, I hear my annoying cousin can be a bit of a brat around the office. Can I make it up to you? Since I am the older one.
A pause.
Unknown Number: Dinner?
I smile at my phone screen. While his number is not yet saved on my phone as this is our first digital interaction, I finally put two and two together to realize it’s Shawn who’s texting me.
Me: Ah, but if it weren’t for that annoying cousin, I wouldn’t be cashing in on this dinner.
Shawn: So I guess you should be thanking him for a free meal.
Me: Nothing a seven-course meal topped with an expensive bottle of wine can’t fix.
Shawn: Exactly how annoying is he?
I smile at my screen again, finding myself amused by his good-natured humor and confidence. But then I think of Hayden. Hayden, who I have yet to see after our kiss.
When he kissed me, it felt like he was finally coming up for air. His lips moved hungrily. Like he had spent weeks mapping how that kiss would play out. I felt every bit of need pouring out of him. I chalked it up to him processing his grief, turning to intimacy during a time when he didn’t know how to handle his dad’s death. But my lips still burned, tingling with the urgency to have his lips on them again. What if he never stopped it? What if we went on until we let that fire burn into our souls and ignite everything that overflowed to the surface?
And then I remind myself he did stop it.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, pursing my lips and worrying my brows together as I mull over my answer to Shawn. When my response never comes, he sends another message.
Shawn: How about this Friday? Seven?
Friday night…I don’t have plans. No date with another man, no invitation to mollify that spiral of loneliness. But will Hayden be calling me? To see if I’ll be feeling lonely with more plans to fill our shared loneliness? Should I be waiting for that call? I hate to think that if he does call, I’ll have to tell him no. To tell him that our agreement is no longer necessary as I’ve chosen to fill my loneliness with someone else. Another man who would definitely treat our dinner as a date. But I can’t keep doing this, leaning on Ha yden to fill a void that I should be filling on my own. Because doing so means our relationship will teeter further away from that line that defines our friendship. One that he made clear when he pulled away from me.
Without a second thought, I text Shawn back.
Me: Friday sounds perfect.
“You got me into this mess. The least you can do is help me figure out what to wear,” I whine. My phone is held to my ear with my shoulder, and my neck feels sore from the strained position it’s been sitting in for the past twenty minutes.
“Natalia,” José says in a low voice in an attempt to soothe me. “You will be fine. Just wear a sexy little dress, and he won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”
I groan. “That isn’t helping.”
“Why are you even stressing about it now? Isn’t the date on Friday?”
I sigh this time, defeated and still clueless on what to wear to a real first date. Period. Something I haven’t been on since I graduated college. Oh my god. Has it been that long?
“I just need a distraction, I guess.”
“You have nothing to worry about. That boy is already smitten with you. You just have to be your sunny little self and charm him.”
A rough knock on my door interrupts our conversation.
“I still need to look nice,” I answer, getting up off my bed and walking out of my room.
“Honey, you always look nice. ”
I smile into my phone screen before peeking into our peephole. Through it, I see a man I recognize even through the distorted glass.
“Natalia?” I hear José call through my phone.
“I have to go,” I barely whisper.
“Alrighty, baby girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I don’t extend any other greeting, simply hanging up before setting my phone down.
When I open the door, Matteo stands there, looking disheveled and tired. His eyes are rimmed red, and his facial hair is growing into an almost full beard. And his eyes look at me as if he’s pleading. For what?
“Hi, Natalia.”
“Matteo, what are you doing here?” I question.
“Can we talk?”
I don’t move. I don’t step aside for him to come in or even answer him.
When I stay silent for too long, he speaks again. “I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finally say, my voice low and barely a whisper. He ducks his head lower. To listen to my soft voice or to intimidate me, I don’t know, but I lean back in response.
“Is it because of your boyfriend?”
I blink, trying to decipher what boyfriend he’s talking about. Then I remember our encounter. When I stood by, completely and utterly hopeless, as he and Hayden exchanged an awkward greeting. And I realize…I no longer feel so weak and broken. When did that hopelessness fade away?
“No,” I answer, shaking my head. My answer sounds curt, bordering on blunt. From my rigid posture to the white-knuckled grip I still have on my door, nothing about my appearance says that he’s welcome here. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea that…”
What? That we just talk? I can’t even place why. But I know him being here, alone and looking the way he looks, can’t end well .
“Is he here? With you?” he asks.
I shake my head again. “No.”
He looks down at his feet, shuffling them as his rigid posture relaxes a bit. “I’ll just be a minute.”
I sigh, finally loosening the grip on the door and stepping aside to open it wider. He takes the cue and walks in, circling the small space of our entryway before turning back to face me.
“This is nice, Natalia,” he comments sincerely. “Looks like you’re doing well.”
I close the door, locking the deadbolt in place before walking toward the kitchen. He follows close behind.
“Did you want something to drink?” I offer, using any excuse to avoid looking at him.
“Uh, sure. Whatever you have is good. Thanks.”
I reach into the fridge, rummaging to find that all we have is orange juice and bottled water. I choose the latter before closing the door and walking it over to him. The air is so tense. So cold and frigid as we come face to face with the remnants of our failed relationship. One that I finally want to move on from.
He loosens the plastic cap and takes a small sip, twisting the cold bottle in his hands before facing me with narrowed eyes. It’s then he hits me with the reason he came here tonight. “I miss you.”
This is the moment I’ve been waiting months for. I imagined it, time after time, but so differently. I thought I would jump for joy and into Matteo’s arms, thrilled that he finally realized how much I loved him. How much we belong together. But none of that happens. Instead, my brows pinch together, my whole face tightening as I feel angry and frustrated.
“Matteo, you’re getting married.”
He sighs, his hands fisting together on the counter. I watch as his knuckles turn white before he runs a hand through his dark hair. “This is all so fucked up, Natalia.”
I shove down every impulse to ask him what he means. As curious as I am, I don’t think I’m ready for his answer. Or maybe I truly don’t care enough to ask.
He rounds the counter, his movements becoming urgent and rushed as he closes the space between us and braces a hand against the countertop. “I don’t think I’m getting married.”
“You don’t think ?” I question, unable to hide the accusation in my tone. “Matteo, what the hell does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. I keep thinking about us and?—”
I give an exasperated sigh as I take a small step away from him.
When I take in the man in front of me, the same man that I was head over heels in love with, I realize how foolish I was for letting those past moments of betrayal turn into shame and doubt for myself rather than holding him accountable for our failed relationship. All of the excuses I made for him, telling myself that he still loved me when he forgot our anniversary two years ago or pushing aside the hidden resentment when he stopped telling me how beautiful I looked or how lucky he was to have me. I told myself too many times that he still cared. That he was just too tired or forgetful or had a stressful day at the office. I realize that what we had, it wasn’t love. It was habitual, ordinary, routine. Something that grew over time when we became too comfortable with one another. Something that I should have walked away from a long time ago but didn’t know how to.
“Matteo…”
“It’s that boyfriend of yours, isn’t it?” he interrupts.
I sigh.
“I knew it when I ran into him at the bar. I knew I wasn’t going to get you back.” He looks back down at his feet, his shoulders slackened in defeat .
“What bar?” I blurt out.
He looks up at me, head tilted in confusion. “He didn’t tell you?”
My silence is my answer.
He lets out a shaky exhale. “I was out with some friends, and I ran into him. I may have said some things that might have set him off and…”
“And what, Matteo?”
“We…” He pauses, his throat bobbing before he says, “He punched me.”
“What the hell?” I gasp. “When was this?”
“I don’t know,” he says softly, shaking his head. “A couple of weeks ago?”
I can’t believe it. Whatever happened between Hayden and Matteo, it had to be because of me. I turn away, raking my hair with my fingers before fisting them in frustration. “Matteo, I think you need to go,” I finally say, facing him once again.
He looks at me, a slight rise of surprise evident in his rounded eyes and panicked face. “Natalia, I made a mistake.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, a strain in my voice. “We’re over. You dumped me, remember?”
“I know,” he says, flinching away from the harsh truth. “And I wish I hadn’t ended things with you the way that I did. And now I feel like I’m in such a mess.”
“Do you love her?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he keeps his gaze on the countertop. And when his silence answers my question, making me feel sorry for this woman that he made an empty promise to, I shake my head. “Matteo, you need to leave,” I say again. “Whatever mess you need to work through, it isn’t here. You need to talk to her.”
He nods, his hands coming up to his face as he rubs out the knots of tension from his temples. “Yeah,” he says with a defeated sigh. “Can I just say one thing?”
I tilt my head, waiting .
“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to end things the way that I did,” he says through a rough voice. “And…I just want you to know that I didn’t plan on hurting you. I was just scared.”
My deep-seated sigh is the forgiveness I didn’t know I was ready to give. “Whatever’s going on with you and Jacinda, work it out. Marry her, don’t marry, that’s none of my business. That’s between you two. But don’t make the same mistake you did with me.”
“Yeah,” he concurs. And without any other parting words, he walks out of my apartment.