Chapter 13
Elizabeth
UNDERNEATH THE TREE
I walk away from Nate, with my feet moving at the same time my heart feels like it’s about to come out of my chest. I pull open the door and all I can do is blink at the pizza delivery man.
“Elizabeth,” he says my name as he balances the blue bag in his hand, keeping the pizza warm.
I nod at him, my mouth suddenly dry. I’m also afraid if I speak, it’ll come out in the squeaky voice I use when I’m very nervous.
He unfolds the top of the bag and the steam from the hot pizza rushes out as he hands me the two pizza boxes, nods, then walks away.
I shut the door with my foot and give myself a minute to calm down.
I thought Nate was going to kiss me. Forget that, I knew he was going to kiss me.
I also knew I should have pushed him away from me, but when it comes to Nate, I’m always doing things I shouldn’t do.
I don’t look at him as I walk to the counter and put down the two boxes of pizza. “Food is here,” I call out, like he doesn’t know I just brought in the pizza. “Come and eat.” I look over at him before walking to the sink and turning on the water to wash my hands.
“I’ll cut the tree open after I eat,” I tell him as I turn to grab two plates, trying to act like we didn’t just almost kiss.
“Do you want a beer?” I ask him as I walk to the fridge and pull out two bottles before placing both on the counter next to each other. Nate walks to the sink to wash his hands before coming back. I open both pizza boxes. “I got cheese and the meat lovers.”
“I don’t need a plate,” he tells me, grabbing a slice of meat lovers and eating it over the box.
I pull out one of the stools and sit down, grabbing a slice of cheese pizza, folding it, and then taking a bite before twisting open the bottle of beer. “I forget how much I miss pizza until I taste it here.”
“There isn’t a good pizza place back home?” he asks me as he takes another bite.
“It’s just not the same,” I say, taking another bite. “Where are the decorations for the tree?”
“In the garage. I usually keep them outside in the shed,” he tells me, “but I knew I would have to put up the tree.”
“Usually you have it up by now?” I ask him and he nods.
“But then I got so busy at work, knowing I would be taking off time for the wedding, so I just didn’t get around to it.”
“So, no regrets starting your own veterinary practice?” I ask as I take another bite.
“Not one,” he confirms. “It was tough at the beginning, obviously, since you have to build it from the ground up. Find new clients, prove yourself and all that.” He leans on the counter looking at me.
“What about you, Elizabeth?” My body gets shivers when he says my name like that. “Do you like Australia?”
“I do,” I admit, “it’s home now.” Even saying the words, I am not sure it is. It should be. I’ve been there long enough. But now it feels like one foot is in, one foot is out.
“Is it?” he asks me and I nod my head. “Are you with anyone?”
“I don’t have time to date,” I confess to him, then ask him the question I have not had the balls to ask him, nor have I heard anything about from any of my family members. “What about you?”
He shakes his head. “Not now, but I was with Britt for about three years,” he shares, shocking me. “We even bought a house together.”
I blink and the pizza falls from my hand onto the box. “I’m sorry what?”
“What, what?” he asks me.
“You were with someone for three years”—he nods—“and had a house together?” I repeat the words to make sure that I heard him correctly. “This house?” I point to the counter.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I bought this after we broke up.”
“Why did you break up?” I ask him, the pizza in my stomach feeling like it’s going to curdle or something.
“She wanted the next step,” he replies, standing up and taking a pull of his beer.
“You mean she wanted to get married?” I say, ignoring the pounding of my heart or the way this news is affecting me, it’s getting harder and harder to breathe when it feels like my chest is caving in.
“Yeah.”
“Well, obviously.” I roll my eyes. “After three years, why didn’t you propose?” Asking the question has the back of my neck tingling.
“I’m not really sure, something was just missing.”
“Three years?” I repeat.
“Three years.”
“Who broke up with who?” I ask him.
“She basically said if I wasn’t thinking of marriage now, I would never be thinking of it,” he states, looking at me. “So we had a come-to-Jesus moment, and I had to admit I didn’t see us married. Not then and not in the future.”
“You are so lucky,” I tell him and his eyebrows pinch together. “If that was me and after three years you were like, it’s never going to happen.” I pfft. “I would burn your shit, all of it. You’d be living in your truck, naked.”
“Why would I be naked?” He cocks a hip.
“Because, I burned all your shit. All of it. Down to, like, your condoms.”
He throws his head back and laughs harder. “I’m not kidding with you, Nate.”
“Oh, I’m fully aware that you are not kidding with me, Elizabeth.” I swear every single time he says my name, my stomach gets butterflies.
“Where is she now?” I ask him, thinking she still lives around here and there is a chance I’ll come face-to-face with her.
“Moved away closer to the city, shortly after I bought this house. She thought for some reason I would regret it.”
“Did you?” I ask him, and I feel like I’m holding my breath. “Do you?”
“No.” He shakes his head, taking another pull of his beer. “Not even a little bit. Besides, she got married a year after she left and now has a two-month-old baby.”
“Girl or boy?” I ask him.
“No clue.” He puts his bottle of beer down by his pizza box.
“That means you really don’t care”—I grab my own beer bottle and take a pull—“because if you did, you would know every single detail about the other person.”
“You didn’t know I was with Britt?” He looks straight into my eyes when he asks me the question.
“I did not,” I reply and he just nods his head, “but it’s because—”
“It’s fine,” he says, tossing down his pizza crust. “I’m going to go and get the totes.”
He starts to walk out of the room, and my chest is getting so tight it’s getting hard to even swallow. “Nate.” His name comes out shaky.
“It’s fine, Elizabeth.” He looks back and I can see something in his eyes I’ve never seen before. The look haunts me and leaves me speechless. “I’ll be back.”
Whiskey walks with him to the garage and then comes back with him as he carries a blue Rubbermaid tote. “How many are there?” I ask him as he puts the first one down.
“Seven.” My mouth opens in shock. “My mother really loved Christmas,” he says, looking down at Whiskey, who pushes into his leg to get pet, as he avoids looking at me.
It takes him about thirty minutes to bring all the totes in, and I clean up the mess of the pizza boxes, putting it on the stove. “Do you have something to play music on?” I ask him once he places the last tote down and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Grab my phone.” He motions with his chin toward the counter. “Open the music app, it’s hooked up to the system.”
I grab his phone and swipe up, it says face ID and then quickly asks me for the code once it sees I’m not him. “Is it your birthday?” I ask him and he shakes his head.
“I’ll put it in,” he offers, taking his phone from me and putting in his password. “There you go.” He hands me the phone and I pull up the music app and the sound of bells starts filling the house. “Are you putting Christmas songs on?”
“I mean, we’re doing a Christmas tree, might as well vomit Christmas all over the place.
” I smile at him as I grab the scissors as Kelly Clarkson’s “Underneath the Tree” starts to blare through the speakers.
I raise my hands in the air as I sing the song, cutting the cords, and then seeing the tree come out.
Every single time it flies open, I think a hundred pine needles fall from the tree.
“You need to put water in the holder,” Nate shouts from behind me.
“What? Why?” I ask him.
“Elizabeth, it’s a tree.” He points to the tree. “It’s like getting flowers, you have to add water to them or it’ll turn brown or catch fire with the lights. I really like my house and I would like not to set it on fire.”
He starts opening the totes as I walk over and grab the biggest glass he has and filling it with water. “How much water?” I ask him as I walk back and have to get on my knees to pour it into the stand.
“Until the top, I guess,” he answers as he finds the lights and then comes over with the string of lights.
“I’m going to need a stepladder.” He puts the lights on the couch where Whiskey is now lying down, watching us.
He walks out of the room and then Baby Cat comes into the room, gingerly looking around at the totes.
He steps on a couple of pine needles and then flips his paw to get them off.
Nate comes back with a small white stepladder and goes to the tree.
“Can you get the lights for me?” he asks and I walk over to the lights and then go back to give them to him.
“We are going to have to move the tree away from the wall so I can get back there with the lights,” he says as he gets down.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I watch him grab a hold of the tree in the middle as he moves it slowly toward us. “Fucking needles,” he complains as we hear them falling. “I’ll be sending you pictures in March, and I’ll still be finding them all around my house.”
I can’t help but laugh, but then something else starts to creep in and I push it back.
I’ve been home for maybe four days, and every day is one day closer to me leaving.
Usually, I’m okay with it and I start feeling like this on the day that I leave.
The dread starts to creep in, knowing that I’ll be so far away again.
“You okay?” he asks me, and I clear my throat, the lump was growing bigger and bigger as I think of heading back to the other side of the world.
“Yeah,” I assure, shaking my head and fighting away the stinging of my eyes and the pinch in my nose. “I’m just... It’s, you know, strange being home.”
“Well, you don’t do it often enough,” he mentions as he walks around the tree with the lights. “Your parents miss you.”
“Trust me, I get calls daily with a mandatory guilt trip.” I smile at him, walking to the tree.
“Pass me the lights from the back, we can tag team.” We work in unison, putting on the lights, and we’re at the end and he plugs it in, I can’t help but smile at our hard work.
“It’s so pretty,” I state, folding my hands together and putting my hands to my chin.
He stands by me as he takes it in. “Not bad. Now let’s get this motherfucker decorated.” I throw my head back and let out a laugh.
“Okay,” I agree looking in the totes that are all open.
“Why don’t we put your favorites in the front,” I suggest, “and then the rest in the back where no one sees them.” I walk from tote to tote, seeing all the special ornaments his parents picked out, and I’m sure he has memories with all of them.
“Which ones are the most special?” I look in and see him reach a tray of ornaments.
“These,” he says, holding one up and it’s painted gold but in the front is a family with a mother, father, and son on a sled. “My mom made these herself,” he explains, looking at them. “Every single year she would paint a couple more.”
“Then those go right in the middle,” I tell him, grabbing the one from his hand, “so you can see them.”
He doesn’t say anything as I hang the first one. “What do you think?” I ask him when I walk back to him as he looks at the tree.
“I like it.” He looks down at me. “I like it a lot.” I smile up at him. “I’d like it a lot more without the music, but now I’ll forever have this memory.”
“Put them on.” I take the box from him. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if you aren’t putting it on the right spot.”
“I have no doubt you will,” he replies, taking one out and arranging it, and each time he tells me a little story about the ornament.
It takes way longer than either of us thinks it will to finish decorating. When it’s all done, it looks like a tree that is filled with love and memories and not the ones that look like they just came out of a catalog. “What do you think?” I ask him as I step back.
“I think this is the best tree I’ve ever had.” He sits on the couch next to Whiskey, rubbing his head.
“Good.” I smile at him. “I’m going to go and get in the shower, then head to sleep.”
He just looks at me and I’m about to walk out of the room when I stop.
“Good night, Nate,” I say, and he nods at me.
I know I should just leave it at that. I know I should leave it alone, but something in me stops.
“For the record,” I start, wringing my hands together out of nerves, “I didn’t know about you and Britt because I didn’t want to ask about you, but not because I didn’t want to know.
I just couldn’t.” His mouth opens. “Just thought you should know.”