Chapter 23 #2
I nod. Is that something I’ve told Nate, or just something he picked up about me from the time we’ve spent together?
“I know I made the decision to have a public persona when I signed on to that first season of LovedBy,” I tell Nate. “But I didn’t know—I don’t think anyone knows—what that’s really like until it happens.”
Nate’s focus never leaves me, and I can tell he’s taking it all in.
We’ve reached the cypress tree on the far edge of the property. Tied to one of its branches is a swing that goes out over the lake. When the water’s high enough, you can jump from it into the water.
I take a seat, wrapping my hands around the worn rope and kick off to rock slightly back and forth.
“I have to be really careful about which parts of myself get put out for public consumption because those parts have the potential to get the shit kicked out of them.”
The corners around his eyes soften. “I remember what Cara went through.”
I slow the swing.
“When everything happened with that douchebag,” he goes on, “people treated her like she was some…” He searches around for the right word.
I know the words I used about her in my group chats, and shame washes over me.
Nate lands on, “Scarlet woman. Even though she was completely blindsided by the whole thing.” He looks me in the eye.
“She really didn’t know he was going on the show. ”
I’ve always doubted Cara’s version of the story, but looking at the sincerity on Nate’s face right now, I know he’s telling the truth.
The revelation feels heavy, shocking—I guess some part of me didn’t want to believe Cara could possibly be that oblivious.
Having an enemy in her made the whole thing a little easier, somehow, to deal with.
But of course, she could’ve been oblivious—I should know. I was too.
As I stare at Nate, letting his words sink in, it dawns on me that Cara went through something extremely similar. That Aaron hurt and blindsided her too.
And although my guard is still up—I know how damaging the media can be with stories like these, and that’s still a huge risk no matter what Cara’s own motives might be—I suddenly feel incredibly guilty.
For regressing into my catty, competitive pageant girl days instead of at least giving her the benefit of the doubt.
I swallow, hard. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s not really my story to tell. And I didn’t mean to make you feel weird about it.”
“It’s okay. I’m—I’m glad you told me,” I say quietly. “And honestly, that’s not even why I was really upset today.”
The truth is that the woman at the flower farm thought Nate and I were together. To her, we looked like a real couple. Something Nate apparently has no serious interest in.
And yet even his quiet concern right now—the way he picks up on my feelings, wants to understand—gives me this fluttery, terrifying feeling of hope…
I look up at him. The moon is out over the lake, a dark twinkling surface. I can hear the shushing of its soft waves against the shore. In the dusk, it’s hard to read Nate’s expression.
“Nikki, I…”
My breath catches. “Yeah?”
He pauses. “I can’t believe how hot out it still is, even with the sun down.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I say, my words barely a whisper. Because I think the heat we’re talking about is not just left over from the sun. “How about a little night swim?” I suggest.
After all, I’m still wearing this stupid bathing suit I’ve had on most of the day.
“Great idea.” He steps back from the swing, and I feel a breeze whoosh into the space between us.
I stand up, slip the too-short-anyway dress over my head, and kick my sneakers into the dirt near the base of the tree.
Then I walk gingerly to the lake edge—over here by the swing, it’s a little rockier at first. I turn to see if Nate’s coming and watch as he pulls his T-shirt off.
Then he’s clambering over the rocky part and jumps in before me.
“Hey, wait up.” I jump in too.
I dunk my head under, into that soothing cool darkness, and shoot forward, swimming fully submerged.
When I come back up for air, I don’t see Nate.
The nighttime is loud and alive with crickets and the quiet lapping of the waves.
I tread water but realize I can stand out here.
It’s shoulder-deep. I scan the surface, with the strangest sense that Nate’s just completely disappeared—or is about to sneak up on me.
Instead, his head finally pops up, maybe thirty feet away.
The moon glimmers on the lake, but I can’t make out his face from this far away.
He pushes his wet, messy hair out of his face with both hands.
And I don’t know what it is that hits me painfully in that moment, right in the chest. Like seeing him fade into the darkness from across the water makes me realize how easy it would be for us to simply—drift away from each other.
Even with our siblings joined in marriage, realistically, we inhabit two totally different worlds, and “just friends” as two adults with busy lives on opposite coasts doesn’t hold much weight.
When I’m back in LA, will I even be a thought in his mind anymore?
“You’re too far.” It’s a silly thing to say, but I’ve noticed that what comes out of my mouth when I’m with Nate tends to be more unfiltered than I’m used to.
“Miss me, huh?” he jokes, then dives back under.
Watching him swim directly toward me—a shadowy, muscular form cutting through the water—gives me an unexpected thrill. I never want him to not be swimming toward me.
I want to be your destination, I think.
Oh lord, Nikki.
He pops up now just a foot away. So close I could wrap my arms and legs around him, like I did that first night without even thinking. Like the pull between our bodies was automatic, destined.
“So…” he says quietly, and I can’t read his eyes.
“So,” I repeat.
He laughs softly. “After all that, the show wants you back, huh?” he asks.
LovedBy. I feel a thudding in my chest.
“So it would seem,” I say.
“That’s pretty wild.”
“I know.” I let out a breath, wondering if he’s disappointed. Hurt that I didn’t tell him.
“And you’re really willing to risk getting the shit kicked out of you—metaphorically, of course—once again?”
Is he upset by that? I can’t tell. There’s concern in his eyes, but is it protective concern, or something more?
“I was going to say something about it earlier today, but… I mean, I don’t know what to do. They need my answer before the week is out.”
“That’s insane.”
I shrug. “It’s the business.”
“It’s a huge decision though. It’ll upend your life all over again.”
“I mean, yes and no. I can’t say there’s much going on to upend right now.
I’ve been…” I don’t know why the truth feels so close to the surface tonight—maybe it’s my birthday, or the fireflies and the rippling water and the moon, or the way Nate’s staring at me, with an intensity that seems different.
Like maybe, maybe, he could be feeling the same way.
“I’ve been lost for a while.” I feel my throat constrict as I admit these words.
Feel the shame of not having my life all figured out yet.
Not being on a clear path to something, not being settled down like I thought I’d be.
He comes closer. “You don’t seem lost to me.”
I give a shuddering, quiet laugh. “Yeah, well, I hide a lot.”
“Nikki,” he says, looking right into my eyes. Even in the darkness, up this close I can see into his, too—specks of green amid the blue, like miniature fireflies. “You don’t have to hide with me.”
His words make me shiver. Because what’s crazy is, I believe him.
He opens his mouth slightly, as if to say more, but closes it again.
What I want him to say is, Don’t go on the show.
What I want him to say is, Stay.
Even though it makes no sense. Even though our lives are so different, and everything in them is pulling us in opposite directions.
“Nate, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I want.
Not anymore. I thought I did, but—” But meeting you changed everything.
It’s too cringey to say aloud: how in such a short time, Nate has reminded me of what’s possible when I stop following a list of perfectly valid reasons to date someone, and instead, just follow my heart.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.
“Am I sure… what?”
“That you don’t know what you want. Because—maybe you do know what you want.”
I bite my lip. Does he know? Is it obvious exactly what I want? “What do you want, Nate?”
And then, under the water, I feel his hand, tentative and slow, finding contact with my waist, my hip—just the slightest, gentlest tug forward. “This,” he says.
I touch his arm. Trace my hand up to his muscular shoulder.
And then both his hands are on my hips, and I’m wrapping my arms around him and—I suck in a breath, waiting, letting him close the gap between us fully.
Letting his lips land softly, inquisitively, on my lips.
Letting his tongue part them. So different from our first or second kiss, where we smashed together helplessly and urgently.
This feels loaded, intentional—and yet hesitant.
Before, we were just two strangers attracted to each other.
But now…
The kiss is heady, slow, deep.
We’re holding onto each other so tenderly—exploring each other. Getting to know each other all over again, in a new way. I can feel his heartbeat racing as I kiss him like I may never see him again. Like I don’t want to lose him.
Then I pull away, keeping my face close to his.
A smile plays lightly on his face, and it reflects onto me—I’m smiling, too, and then kissing him again, savoring everything about this moment.
I feel emotion rising up in my chest, in my throat, a mix of wanting to laugh, and wanting to cry, and wanting more than anything to lose myself in him.