Chapter 18
VIVIENNE
The bed dips beside me, and my breath hitches at the incoming jolt of heat. Not only from the mere proximity of Nate—who decides it’s best to stay on the absolute edge of the bed—but from pure desire. Want. A feeling I know I shouldn’t indulge in.
But now that I know this pull isn’t one-sided—that the attraction isn’t all in my mind—I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to cave.
Just once.
I saw the way he was looking at me after the shower. I heard my name on his tongue when he was in there. And God was I close to following a similar fate before he walked in.
I am ashamed.
Highly ashamed that I even consider touching myself that way, but maybe that’s what we both need—to get whatever this is out of our system and move on with our arrangement like nothing ever happened.
Something about the darkness in this room makes me feel safe enough to voice those thoughts—to reveal even my deepest secrets—but the second my mouth perks up, I shut it down, too afraid to mess things up more than they already are.
Plus, Nate could very well be asleep now that he’s in the comfort of a bed, and I wouldn’t want to disturb that.
I try to speak again, but the words die on my tongue. It’s best I keep my mouth shut.
“There’s something on your mind,” Nate voices gently from his side of the bed. It comes across as a statement, not a question, as if he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I turn to see his back still facing me.
“If you move any farther, you might fall off,” I tease, trying to break the tension.
Nate doesn’t respond with words, only the slow shift of his body until he’s lying on his back. Still, his eyes won’t meet mine, completely fixed on the ceiling.
“Is that really what’s keeping you up?” he asks.
“Yes,” I rush out.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I meant it when I said that I didn’t want you to sleep uncomfortably.”
“Is that really so?”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, though he can’t see me. “But now that I think about it, it might have all been one big ploy to get us in the same bed.”
Nate groans in disapproval, the sheets rustling as he readjusts his position. “You can’t be saying stuff like that, Vivienne.”
“Why not?” I suck in a breath, fully aware of the double meaning.
“No flirting, remember? You don’t have to put up an act now that my family isn’t here.”
Fuck the rules, I want to yell at the top of my lungs, but I don’t find it in me. He’s every bit right. I’m the one who set them in place. The least I should do is abide by them.
“I’m sorry,” I admit on a sigh.
“What are you apologizing for?”
For everything? I’m tempted to say, but I settle on the one thing that has utterly and completely consumed my mind for the past hour.
“For not going plane watching.” My voice is so soft that I’m surprised he even hears it at all.
“Don’t stress about it. You were tired.”
I clasp my hands over my chest, fiddling with my fingers as a pricking sensation makes its way to my eyes. It’s the telltale sign of my unraveling, but I continue regardless.
“Your family was really nice about it.”
“Yeah…” Nate trails off. “They’re a lot crazy, but they’re an understanding bunch.”
That’s the one thing nobody could ever deny.
The Archers are a tight-knit family, and watching them interact today warmed my heart in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by relatives, but somehow, they welcomed me so completely that it felt like I truly belonged—like I was always meant to be there.
“You know, I actually believed Audrey when she said you had Playboy posters on your walls.” I try shifting my thoughts to something lighter.
Nate grumbles in disapproval, and I can’t help but laugh, eyes blurry under the burden of unshed tears.
“She’s got a cute family,” I admit. “Michael isn’t too much of a talker compared to her, but they balance each other out.”
“The only good thing that came out of that marriage is Anya.”
My mouth gapes at Nate’s audacity.
I hit his arm with my elbow while he bursts into laughter. It’s rich, deep, and oh, so warm, that I can’t help but take a peek at him as the bed vibrates beneath us.
I look up—and catch him doing the same.
With a turn of his head, his light green eyes latch onto my brown ones, and I avert my gaze once I realize I’ve been caught.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart might beat out of my chest.
“Okay, fine. I love my sister to death, but I may like her daughter a little more.”
I roll my eyes in disbelief, the corners of my lips tugging up at his ridiculousness.
“What? It’s true. Audrey isn’t trying to sabotage me like the toddler is.”
I can’t argue with that. Anya might be the best wingwoman a man could ask for. To say she didn't have an impact on the way I view Nate would be the understatement of the century.
“My mom and grandma are up there on the crazy scale with my sister. I hope you know that the blanket you’re covered with is called the baby maker.”
“The what?” I ask in shock.
“The baby maker,” he repeats. I heard it the first time, but needed the confirmation. “Nuts…not in the sense the name would imply.”
My cheeks flush, and the corners of my mouth twitch at his joke.
“Now that I think about it, the last time I saw that thing was back when Audrey and Michael were newly engaged. And just like that, a baby was crying in the house nine months later. So to be honest with you, I might actually believe in its powers.”
I laugh so hard it becomes difficult to breathe, but the deeper meaning of the story has it dwindling.
Nate was surrounded by love and people who only wanted him to have the same. Yet here I was, in their home, feeding into the narrative that he had something he didn’t.
“I feel bad for lying to them.”
Nate inhales sharply, the lightheartedness to his tone now gone. “Me too.”
My eyes prick at the thought of having such a close family—one who loves you so deeply they would jump through hoops to make it known. It’s simple and obvious in the way they interact with each other.
Nate has that, and for a moment there, I felt like I had it too.
“My parents passed away when I was eighteen,” I confess.
The room falls silent, along with the restless crickets outside. Nate rolls over to face me, but I can’t bring myself to do the same. Not when I’ve only told most bits and pieces of this story, and for some reason, have the sudden urge to say it all to him.
It all comes back to me like a tidal wave.
The mysterious headlines, the lack of information, the blurry images. The tears come without warning, like they always do, and I barely recognize my own voice when I whisper, “They died in a plane crash.”
Nate’s hand lands on my shoulder, firm and reassuring. It’s meant to serve as comfort, but it feels like so much more. At this moment, he’s my anchor, keeping me grounded and stopping me from slipping too far into the hurt.
“It was the summer before I went off to university. They were nearing their twentieth wedding anniversary and planning a big getaway to Hawaii. They told me I could come with them, but I refused the offer.”
I press my lips together like it’s going to stop me from completely breaking down—completely falling apart. But I’m starting to think I’ve been broken all along, the pieces of myself patched barely enough to look whole despite the gaps and cracks.
“They did so much for me, and I just wanted them to enjoy themselves without the added weight of their only daughter.”
The words are there, but unspoken. I was meant to be that on that plane.
For years, I’d run through every possible outcome—how would I have wanted to spend those last moments with them? How would my life look like if I hadn’t encouraged them to go? Would I be the same person I am today if it weren’t for this earth-shattering experience? I guess I’ll never know.
Nate’s hand moves from my shoulder to my hair, raking his fingers through the strands. My eyes flutter shut as I sink into his touch. I know I shouldn’t. I know I should keep my distance, but this feels right. He feels right.
“We talked every day while they were in Hawaii. They would send me pictures and videos, wishing I were there with them. It seemed like the trip of a lifetime—they looked like they were having so much fun.”
The tears fall fast and heavy, soaking the pillow beneath me. Gradually, they dampen the surrounding strands of hair until they cling stubbornly to the back of my neck.
“When they got on their flight back, I was so excited to see them again. They were only away for two weeks, but it felt like a lifetime. I called to check in on them when their plane was supposed to land, but it went straight to voicemail. Same thing three hours later. I refreshed the airport page continuously to see if they’d updated the landing schedule, and nothing. ”
I sniffle hard, my nose so stuffed I can barely breathe.
“I thought there was a mistake—that maybe the plane took a detour due to weather reasons, but that was impossible. It was a perfectly sunny day. Clear skies. No wind. I felt it in my bones—something was wrong. And as day turned to night, I opened up the news to find…to find that no one on that plane made it out. They crashed. But no further investigations were done. Everything was swept under the rug.”
I stare up at the ceiling in silence, wishing there was some texture to distract my mind. It’s smooth and white, with absolutely no distinct point I could fixate on.
The hand stroking my hair stills, and for the first time since this conversation started, I turn to meet Nate’s eyes. They’re filled with sadness and sorrow, but he doesn’t say anything.
There’s no “flying is safer than driving” spiel. That my parents were outliers in usually great statistics. And that brings me peace. It’s one of the reasons I don’t tell the whole story to anyone. I didn’t want to hear those things.
“That’s why you found me in the garden that night of your event. I couldn’t maintain my composure being so close to them.”