Chapter Twenty-Two
I woke to the warmth and weight of a chest beneath my cheek—a steady heartbeat, a scent I did not recognize as Cam’s. For a moment I lingered there, stretching my limbs languidly, savoring the rare treat of not waking up alone.
“Good morning,” said a voice that was not Cam’s at all. Nate’s, deep and gentle, filtered through the haze of sleep, and I blinked my eyes open to find him watching me with those storm-cloud eyes of his. Memory, sharp and unwelcome, rushed in with the morning light.
There was the ache of last night, the conversation, the comfort, and underneath, the hurt. I frowned, already feeling the familiar pinch in my chest.
“Don’t do that,” Nate murmured, his hand rubbing slow circles along my back, grounding me. “Don’t let him steal your Sunday. I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay. Promise.”
Dragging myself out of the comfort and into the reality of morning, I rolled away, feet searching out the cold of the floor as I padded to the bathroom and shut the door softly behind me.
I shouldn’t have stayed. I pressed my forehead against the wood, exhaling.
It might have felt like justice, tit for tat after what Cam had done, but I didn’t want to become that person, either.
Last night, when I’d reached for Nate and he had gently refused, I’d been grateful—even more so now.
If we’d crossed that line, the regret would have drowned me.
No, I wanted to finish this season of my life with my dignity intact, able to look myself in the eye and say I’d fought clean.
Cam might have blown past boundaries, but I didn’t have to.
Still, the weight of having stayed the night—with Nate, of all people—even with nothing happening, was already heavy enough.
I splashed water onto my tired face and studied myself in the mirror.
Red-rimmed eyes, hair wild and unruly—a mess through and through.
Maybe, after seeing me like this, Nate would come to his senses and realize he didn’t want any part of this train wreck.
I dried my face and headed out, half-expecting him to be gone.
But there he was, in the kitchen, back turned as he fiddled with the coffee machine.
I paused, taking him in. Absurdly, I’d woken next to his bare chest, but I hadn’t truly looked until now.
Nate hadn’t struck me as the muscled type, but there it was—the smooth slope of his back, each muscle sharply defined against his skin, the outline of his arms taut as he reached for the mugs.
When he turned and faced me, I had to swallow, because, well, his abs were almost comically perfect.
Rows of neat, defined squares—a map of discipline and time.
I blinked, surprised.
“Livi?” Nate asked, brow arched like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I shook off the daze. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.”
He grinned, amusement bright in his eyes. “Coffee?” He held up a mug. “Unless you’d rather stand there staring at me some more.”
My cheeks heated immediately. “Sorry.”
He laughed, the sound easy and warm, pouring coffee into two mugs and sliding one across the counter to me. “Don’t be. It’s nice to know the gym isn’t a complete waste of time.”
I eyed him, pursing my lips. “You work out?”
He shrugged. “Turned the guest room into a gym. Easier than paying for a membership and dragging myself back and forth. I just finish a workout and hop straight into my own shower.”
“Smart,” I admitted, sinking into a chair, grateful for the coffee. I took a sip and realized he’d already fixed it exactly the way I liked. Another thing Cam had never bothered to remember. It did something strange to my chest, feeling seen like this.
Nate sat down across from me. “When do you expect him home?”
I glanced at my phone. “Three, I think.”
He nodded. “Good. We’ve got hours to fill.”
I hesitated, some small, loyal voice urging caution. “Maybe I should just go home.”
“Why?” He blinked at me, genuinely puzzled. “Something you need to do?”
I shook my head. “No, but…”
He cut me off. “You’ll just end up sulking, counting the minutes until he gets there—and then you’ll be miserable all over again. Why not cut out the agony and hang out with me?” He grinned, his dimple flashing, and the resistance in me fizzled.
“All right,” I relented, smiling despite myself. “What’s the plan?”
“First, a movie. Something to get us through the caffeine and laundry, since I forgot to switch your clothes last night. Then I’m taking you somewhere.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mysterious.”
He refused to elaborate, just smiled cryptically, and led me to the couch. He scrolled through Netflix while I curled up, coffee warming my hands. It took a while to agree on a movie, and when he settled on a rom com, I couldn’t help but give him a sideways glance.
He caught it, laughing. “What? I’m not just a nerd—I’m a closet romantic, too.”
“Color me surprised,” I said, nestling in closer as he draped his arm over my shoulders.
For a moment, guilt whispered that I shouldn’t be comfortable here, that this was another line I shouldn’t blur.
But Cam had already crossed all the lines and left me to put the pieces back together, alone.
If this made it easier, even just a little, then he could hardly complain.
At least here, with Nate, someone wanted to ease the pain instead of causing it.
We watched in companionable silence, sipping coffee, the world outside and all its sharp edges held at bay.
Partway through, Nate stood and quietly tended to my laundry, returning just as the heroine finally got her happily ever after.
I pretended, for the length of the credits, that such things were possible—that love could still be like that.
When the movie ended, I stretched away from Nate’s warmth and stood to help tidy up our mugs.
Nate went to fetch my clothes, appearing moments later with them neatly folded.
Oddly, I didn’t mind that he’d handled my underwear; it felt ordinary, just another shared moment between us.
I ducked into the bathroom to change and pull myself together with a brush and a touch of mascara from my purse.
He was waiting for me by the door, tying his sneakers. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied, eyeing him. “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”
He just grinned. “You’ll see.”
As I waited for him to lock up, my phone buzzed. A text from Cam.
Good morning, beautiful. Hope you slept okay without me. I’ll be home around three as planned. Love you.
I stared at the screen, numb. He was really going to pretend? Like nothing had changed—or maybe, for him, nothing had. Maybe this was just another Sunday for Cam.
“You okay?” Nate’s voice, gentle at my shoulder.
I nodded, putting the phone away without replying. What, after all, was there to say?
“Let’s go,” I said, more tired than before.
We rode the elevator down, stepped out into the cool morning. Nate took my hand, leading us through the city, zigzagging past little storefronts until we stopped in front of the massive public library.
I looked at him, confused. “You know it’s closed, right? It’s Sunday.”
He just smiled and pulled out a ring of keys, expertly unlocking the door and holding it open for me.
The silence inside was startling; in the absence of people, our footsteps sounded like thunder. “Nate? Why do you have keys to the library? Serious question.”
He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty reading room. “It’s for work,” he explained calmly, steering me toward a hallway I’d never noticed. “I’m digitalizing the newspaper archives. Preserving history in case something happens to the building.”
“So that’s what you do? Digital archiving?”
He nodded, shepherding us down a narrow staircase. “Mostly. I do freelance, a bit of everything, but digital archiving pays the bills. I used to work for a company, but after I left, I just went independent.”
“Why’d you leave?”
He didn’t answer right away, flipping the lights on as we reached the basement level. The room smelled of old paper and time, shelves of yellowed folders everywhere. For a moment, I thought he might not answer at all, but then: “They fired me.”
A chill prickled up my arms, but I swallowed my questions and followed him to a dusty table, where an old microfilm machine stood sentinel.
“Didn’t realize libraries still had these,” I remarked, tracing the edge of the table.
“They’re upgrading,” he said dryly. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to show you this. I thought you’d appreciate what’s down here.”
He pulled out a chair for me, and we sat together in the dim light, scrolling through headlines and scandal and forgotten stories.
I lost myself in the flow of it, captivated by tragedies and triumphs, by a story about a boy who’d survived his family burning in their house, only to go on and commit horrors of his own decades later.
The past felt vivid, heartbreakingly close.
I pointed out the patterns to Nate: “It’s obvious he did it, isn’t it? The first fire?”
Nate nodded. “No doubt.”
Time slipped away. My stomach finally growled, reminding us of the hour.
Nate checked his phone. “It’s almost one. Want to get lunch before you have to head home?”
“Already?” I blinked, surprised at how fast it had gone. “Sure.”
He shot me a satisfied look. “See, I knew you’d like this. We’re compatible in more ways than you think.”
I smiled quietly, touched by how thoughtful he was, and helped him put the chairs back before we headed out into the sun.
We ended up at a tiny café just down the street, nearly empty and almost too quiet. A cheerful waitress took our order, radiating an energy I envied. When our food came, Nate immediately stole a fry from my plate with a boyish shrug.
“Seriously?” I shot him a look.
He just grinned. “Your burger looks way better than my Salisbury steak. I have regrets.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t blame me for your poor choices,” I retorted, sticking out my tongue.
We ate quietly, the air between us easy until Nate broke the silence.
“Are you going to confront him? About what you saw?”
I went still, appetite fading. I knew I needed to decide, and soon. “I should, right? But… what would be the point? We’d argue, he’d insist I was being paranoid, and it wouldn’t actually change anything. He’s going to keep doing what he wants, regardless.”
“I wouldn’t let him,” Nate said sharply. “You set boundaries; he crossed them. That’s supposed to be the end of the arrangement.” He paused, jaw tight. “Only… I don’t want to say that, since it would mean you’d stop seeing me.”
I took a long sip of my drink, thinking.
“We’re still friends, no matter what happens.
That was never just about the arrangement.
” I hesitated, pushing ketchup around my plate.
“I’m not sure confronting him would help.
If he’s already too far in with her, I’m not sure I want to push him out the door myself. ”
Nate’s face was unreadable for a long moment. “Do you really think it would be so bad, if he left?”
I glanced out the window, watching people pass by, lost in their own lives. Their ease stung a little, the ordinariness of their Sunday. Would I ever feel like that again?
“It’s never occurred to me, life without him,” I admitted. “I met Cam in college, and ever since then, it’s always been us. Even when I knew things wouldn’t go the way we dreamed, I thought there would still be a version of forever for us. I’m not ready to let that go. I can’t even picture it.”
Nate pushed his plate aside, the gesture final. “I just hope he wakes up before he breaks you completely.”
I didn’t answer, the silence heavy between us as we finished our food. And so we sat there, two people on the edge of something ending, neither quite brave enough to say it out loud.