Chapter 27
chapter
twenty-seven
MAREN
My phone buzzes on the counter with a new message. I swipe it before Tonya lurks over my shoulder to see who it is.
“I don’t know why I bother snooping—it’s usually just Dixie or Addie with inspirational quotes,” she teases.
“That was one time, and I really needed it.” I snort.
Although Tonya’s right—my texts are usually far from interesting—she’s wrong this time.
NATE
Unpacking and found our old yearbooks. Remember Martin Weatherly?
Didn’t I sucker punch him for making fun of your backpack?
That’s him.
Thank you.
Why are you thanking me now, 20 years later?
None of my other friends ever beat up a bully for me, so this warrants some appreciation now and forever.
You’re welcome…I guess.
I’m also thanking you for the memory. It’s made me smile a lot today.
I imagine his dimpled grin while he types, his long fingers tapping on his screen, and now I’m smiling too.
Nate has this way of making me lighter with a single text, smirk, or simple glance.
I’ve been trying to avoid him. I even left Caroline’s housewarming party early last weekend just so I wouldn’t arrive home at the same time as him.
But as I slipped into bed that night, all I kept asking myself is… why?
Nate keeps showing up and surprising me, and he’s making me question myself—and my sanity.
There’s also the fact that I’m constantly trying so hard to avoid him, and in doing so, all I do is think about him.
“What are you smiling for?” Tonya glues herself to my back, and it’s not because this coffee truck is that cramped.
She invades my personal space to peer over my shoulder, but I clutch the screen to my chest. “It’s an inspirational quote, isn’t it?
Must be a good one if you’re smiling like that.
Not even Christmas makes you smile like this, and that’s just a crime against the Hallmark gods. ”
“I like Christmas as much as any other average woman.” I roll my eyes.
“Christmas? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” Dixie says, appearing on the other side of the counter, wearing a black wide-brimmed hat that I could never pull off.
As alike and close as we are, she and I have always had different tastes in fashion. It’s why we were never the type of sisters to borrow each other’s clothes. The only times we did was when Mama was behind on laundry, and we had to make do with what was in the other’s closet.
“Maybe you can weasel the truth out of her.” Tonya hooks her thumb toward me.
“What?” Dixie furrows her brow.
“Nothing,” I chime in. “Tonya was just throwing out the expired milk.”
She throws her hands up and recedes.
“Good girl.” I wink, which earns me a curtsy.
“I wish my job was this fun.” Dixie sighs.
“You mean to tell me that listening to employees complain about each other isn’t fun? There has to be some juicy drama in there somewhere,” I joke.
“If stealing Amy’s clearly labeled celery is juicy, then sure.”
“I doubt anyone stole such a horrendous food. I bet they just threw it away to save her from herself. She should be thanking them.”
“Spoiler alert—that’s not the resolution we came to.”
“Figures.” I point to the espresso machine. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take one of those maple things like last time, please.”
“I knew it would become a favorite.” I whip up her maple brown sugar latte and nod toward the picnic table for her to join me. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“You haven’t.” She exaggerates a huff. “It’s like this town is keeping you busy or something.”
“Actually, it has been rather chaotic.” I use my finger to tick off each point. “Caroline had her housewarming party last Friday. I’ve visited Evie and RJ a couple of times at their new place. Then there’s the bake-off and trying to decide what cookies I’ll enter.”
“What have you decided?”
“I don’t know yet. I have a few options, some better than others, but I haven’t made a definitive choice.”
For some ungodly reason, I imagine Nate being part of this conversation.
I almost hear his low, gravelly voice encouraging me to go with my gut.
To pick the recipe that excites me, even if it might not be the best received.
He’d assure me that it would have a fighting chance if I believed in it—and myself.
He would probably be right too. Even if I’m not ready to admit it yet.
“Teagan thinks I should go classic with a chocolate chip walnut cookie.” I smile. “I’ve been showing her how to bake. She’s entering the competition for the junior division. My oven has been hit or miss, so thank goodness, I can still bake next door—”
Dixie holds her hand up and swallows like she has a golf ball stuck in her throat. “Wait. Teagan, as in Nate’s daughter? And baking next door, as in Nate’s house?”
“Yes.” I shrug, heavily downplaying the situation so my sister doesn’t make a thing of it.
She blinks rapidly. “Clearly, I have been way out of the loop.”
“There’s no loop, Dixie.”
“Oh, there’s a loopty loop with extra loops in between.” She releases a half scoff, half laugh that’s far from humorous. “I mean, if you and Nate are playing house—”
“We’re not,” I clip.
“You’re baking with his daughter in his house, Mar. That’s the definition of playing house to a freaking T.”
“It’s not like that.” I slide my palms down my thighs, wishing I’d brought a coffee for myself so I’d have something to do with my hands.
“I’ll only believe you if you can look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t slept with him.”
I freeze with my heart in my throat.
The only movement from her side of the bench is the dancing of her hair in the early afternoon breeze.
My lips part, but nothing comes out.
Dixie tilts her head. She doesn’t say anything, but her frown speaks volumes.
“I… It was… Look—”
She rears back and hisses, “You slept with him!”
My face burns from my hairline to the tip of my chin as I check around for nosey townspeople. “Keep your voice down,” I chide. The coast appears clear, but I never know when Scarlett, Tonya, or hell, anyone else in this town, might pop out from behind a tree like a gossiping jack-in-the-box.
“How can I keep my voice down when you’re doing the exact thing you said you wouldn’t do?”
“Like you and potatoes?” I toss back. “You said you cut carbs weeks ago, but don’t think I didn’t notice you scarfing down fries while on FaceTime last week.”
“That’s totally different. Potatoes never broke my heart.”
She has me there.
“Potatoes have never done any harm to anyone.” I stare pointedly. “Why you wanted to purge yourself of them is beyond me.”
“Because they were becoming my main food source—don’t distract me!”
I sigh, steeling myself against the oncoming lecture, because in true Dixie fashion, she’s going to make this a thing, after all. An agonizing, astronomical thing.
And the onslaught of questions ensues like she’s waterboarding me with them.
“Are you and Nate together again? What are his long-term plans? Is he actually going to stay in one place? Is this town going to be enough for him? It didn’t used to be. Have you even discussed these things?” She finally pauses for a breath.
“Jesus, Dixie. We’re not together, for fuck’s sake.”
“It was a one-time thing, then? How is that possible? You two have way too much history to be a one-night stand.”
“No need to label it. It was once. We agreed it wouldn’t happen again, and now, we’re just… friends.”
“I don’t like it.” She purses her lips and throws her hands up. “He’s selfish and unreliable, Mar, and you need someone stable. Someone who isn’t going to break up with you and marry some stranger a year later.”
“He’s not who you think he is,” I whisper. “And besides, whatever happened back then wasn’t even totally his fault. I’m to blame too, and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dixie’s drink nearly falls out of her hand, and she clutches the picnic table with her other like she needs it to steady herself. “Are you seriously telling me that after everything he put you through, you now think you had a hand in it? Please tell me you’re not serious.”
“It’s complicated,” I say, echoing what Nate said the day after Halloween.
When I’d heard it, something inside me had snapped. Like years’ worth of history and misguided decisions could possibly be summed up in those two words, but he was so right.
What happened was far more complicated than I ever cared to admit.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Dixie shakes her head.
“All that matters is that we get along great. It’s nice to be friends again, even.”
“The fact that you’re saying any of this has me all kinds of worried.”
I feel defensive of Nate.
Dixie has every right to be anti-Nate. Besides, she’s just protecting me. And the worst part is that none of what she says is a lie.
Except for the selfish part.
He might be unpredictable at times, but he’s not selfish.
“I’m so sorry about your mom.” There was a pause on his end of the line. “I know it’s been a while, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t call to check on you.”
That’s what Nate had said to me when he called after my mother had died. His voice had cracked like he felt my pain himself. That’s how we always were—two hearts, one soul.
I hadn’t realized then how badly I needed to hear his voice. My life was crumbling. I was drowning in my grief, funeral arrangements, and condolence pies. I was suffocating under the weight of it all. But when I saw Nate’s name flash across my phone screen, I felt like I could breathe again.
I didn’t care that he hadn’t visited since he left.
It didn’t matter that we hadn’t spoken since the breakup.
And I didn’t think twice about the fact that he was married at the time.
During that brief moment, Nate was thinking about me, and he was exactly who I needed him to be. He stayed on the phone until my sobs subsided. Offered love and understanding, and I’ll forever be grateful for those few minutes of solace during the most difficult time in my life.
“He was there for me when I needed him most,” I counter.
“Where? In California with another woman? Come on, Mar.” She scoffs. “Remember what Mama used to say—don’t accept crumbs just because you’re hungry.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’re clinging to a few nice things Nate’s done for you, and you’re completely forgetting about the dozens of shitty ones.”
“I’m not forgetting—I’m just trying to move on,” I say. “Even if you don’t believe he’s changed, you can trust that I have.”
“I just hope you know what you’re doing.” Doubt clings to each of her words, and it’s clear that she doesn’t believe I do, in fact, know how to navigate my own life.
I sigh. “Tell me what’s been going on with you. How are you and Barrett?”
She shifts the hat on her head. On a prolonged exhale, she says, “We’re okay.”
“Why do you say it like he ran over your favorite pair of boots?”
“It’s just… Well, we’ve been trying for a baby, you know, and it feels like a part-time job, tracking my cycle and ovulation.
Researching best practices and the best prenatal vitamins.
Then there’s the actual sex. Barrett and I are so tired after work, and with all the stress of trying to get pregnant, basically, it’s not fun anymore. ”
I can’t imagine sex with someone as straitlaced as Barrett is ever fun, but I’ll give my sister the benefit of the doubt.
“You’re still at the beginning of this journey,” I say lightly. I hate seeing her so defeated. “Give yourself and Barrett some grace and be patient.”
“You’re right. I know you are, but it’s just hard when everything in my life feels blah at the moment.”
“This is an exciting time in your life, Dixie.” I smile. “It’s not easy, but imagine what joy awaits.”
She finally cracks a smile. Relief seeps into my tense muscles for a job well done. I’m getting through to her and helping in the best way I can, considering the situation. It’s not one I’ve ever been in myself, so I’m well aware of how limited my perspective is.
But one thing I am an expert on is being in a rut. I can easily recognize the signs—which Dixie shows. When life feels uneventful. When it’s one task after another, in the same sequence, with zero surprise.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Unfortunately, while hers is likely—hopefully—temporary, my own rut has lasted for years. Also unfortunate is that Nate is the one who’s gotten me out of it. He and Teagan have become the highlights of my week already. Baking with the little girl while Nate jokes with us has made me feel again.
Hope.
Excitement.
Belonging.
It’s all there, swirling around like they’re on a merry-go-round in my chest.
Dixie was right—it does seem like we’re playing house—but it doesn’t feel like it’s pretend. It’s too natural to be fake.
And that’s where Dixie was wrong. A few weeks ago, she accused me of comparing all my past dates to Nate, but that wasn’t true. I’ve never compared the guys themselves to my ex; I’ve only ever compared the feelings.
Nate has always made me feel happy and sexy and special. No one else has ever done that for me.
And I’m starting to forget why I’m intent on denying myself of what I really want.
I want Nate.