Chapter 8
The Solution
Nate
Rustling and shuffling wakes me up. It’s past four in the morning when I check the clock.
Robyn’s getting dressed on her side of my room.
I fixate on the way her spine arches as she pulls the fabric of her shirt down her back.
We had the perfect day yesterday. Everything we needed. Until you fucked it up, you idiot.
I get up and start getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” Robyn’s voice comes as a scolding whisper from the other side of the room.
“I’m dropping you off. Your car’s not here.”
“I was just going to get an Uber.”
“I know.” I slide on a T-shirt. “You were also going to sneak out without saying goodbye, weren’t you?”
Her silence says it all. She’s pissed, and it churns my stomach.
Everything we’ve said since Tessa showed up reverberates in my head, pointing to something that leaves an uncomfortable taste in my mouth.
I pull on sweats and go to her side of the bed.
I run my hands up her arms until I’m holding her shoulders, squeezing.
She sags, but not into me. As if she’s so tired she can’t bear to give up her strength for even a second or she wouldn’t be able to keep going.
“Robyn—”
“No, Nate.”
She turns around, but I keep my hands firmly on her shoulders. “You think I care if you hang out with her? I don’t. Why did you feel like you needed to hide it, though?”
“I wasn’t hiding it, I just …” I rake one hand through my hair, jaw tightening. “She’s a friend. That’s all.”
Except Tessa’s crumpled all boundaries, blurring the lines between friendship and chaos.
A confession takes shape on the tip of my tongue.
It’s bitter, ashy, necessary, but … Robyn’s about to go to work, the well-being of so many people a weight that she’ll carry.
It’s all meaningless in the large scheme of things, and my words fizzle away to nothing.
Her spine straightens, and her chin lifts just slightly. “She was privy to something I should have known. I don’t want anyone having power over what we have.”
It became so clear over the weekend. I’m feeling neglected, alone.
It’s shitty, because my girl’s trying to be a kickass neurologist so she won’t miss what her mom’s doctors did.
I need to do better for her. I exhale, holding myself upright with my grip on her shoulders.
The air between us hums, heavy with a tension reminding us we’re not okay.
I stare into Robyn’s eyes in the dim lighting—the high lines of her cheekbones, the soft curve of her lips.
When she’s anxious or when something’s really important, she does this thing where her tongue slips out to wet her top lip just enough to leave a glimmer behind.
I’ve watched it more times than I’ve watched the sun set over the skyline.
Just like when she says I love you. Or when she told me she’d give me a key to her place.
Or the first time she said yes to me. It took me three weeks of standing out there at the crack of dawn and some bribing with the most expensive coffee on campus before she finally gave in.
“Alright, Mr. Architect,” she’d said, “Let’s show you a wild time.”
That morning felt like the beginning of everything I hadn’t known I was waiting for. Because it’s her. Hasn’t been anyone else since. Always her. Even now, in the silence of her anger, she’s my anchor.
What the fuck have I been doing?
“I get it.” I step into her, close enough that my chest brushes hers, hoping proximity will help her believe me.
Her expression doesn’t soften. She’s both furious and thinking too clearly for me to talk her out of it. “I really don’t think you do.”
“Okay, maybe I don’t.” My throat feels tight. “I want to, though. Help me.”
“I don’t have time for this, Nate. Rounds are in an hour, and I’m already not off to a good start.”
“Should I stop seeing her?”
Her eyebrows shoot up then smooth into a neutral line. “You’d stop seeing your best friend, someone you’ve known since you were teens, for me?”
I nod. My throat dries at the thought of disappointing a friend who’s cried on my shoulder and relied on me for all things big and small. I would, though. No question about it.
Robyn shakes her head. “I appreciate the sentiment, Nate. But that’s not the relationship I want. She’s supposed to be your friend, and you’d just shut her out? It’s just not right. It’d hurt me if Julian did that.”
I’m flailing. I can understand her frustration. I don’t even know what we’re fighting about anymore.
“You’re more important,” I say, desperate, useless.
She shakes her head and steps back. The distance is small, but it wrecks me.
“What do you need from me?” slips out before I can stop it.
I’ve never been this person, not to Robyn. This lost, confused, clueless manchild with no action plan.
She exhales, long and tired, already halfway out the door. “Look, I have to go. But answer me this …”
I nod, anything to keep her talking.
“Are you comfortable with me and Julian being close friends? Seeing each other every day?”
I don’t love the half-dressed part. I hadn’t really thought about it before last night … but strangely, yeah. I’m comfortable with them. Hell, I buy the guy coffee.
She studies me for a second, eyes softening just a fraction. “Then you need to think about what Julian and I do and don’t do that helps our friendship still feel okay with you.”
Her voice drops, almost weary. “I want you to think about what boundaries you have with Tessa.” She exhales. “What I don’t want is you ending a friendship because you think … I don’t even know why you’d think I’d want that.”
With that, she grabs her purse, and we leave. I drive her even though the silence isn’t the normal comfortable quiet of a sleepy morning ride. Dawn light illuminates her face when she steps out of the car at the corner of her hospital. Every curve and angle shining, otherworldly.
I should say something, anything. I’m supposed to be this big eloquent architect, and when it counts, I’ve got nothing. She doesn’t kiss me goodbye, but she thanks me quietly.
As she walks to the staff entrance, Julian falls into step with her, side by side. They smile at each other, warm but effortless. No hug. No lingering looks. Just two friends who don’t need to make a show of how close they are.
Andrzej and I could have done that exact same sequence. It makes me wonder if I’ve been mistaken for a very long time.
The office hums around me, keyboards clicking, and some people drawing on standing desks or critiquing proportions in murmurs that echo off the glass.
I’ve been catching up all morning after taking yesterday off.
My boss loves holding those licensure hours over my head.
She doesn’t get that it’s time I gained with Robyn, and I don’t regret a second of it.
Try as I might to stay on the models spread across my desk, my mind keeps looping back to this morning.
Robyn leaving the car, looking not quite mad just …
disappointed. Because I freaking failed her.
I can take anger. Disappointment sits quieter.
It waits. For you to mess things up some more, you dumb fuck.
I roll my shoulders and refocus on the sketch in front of me—the angles don’t feel right. Nothing does. I’m halfway through erasing the planters for this outdoor landscaping one more time when the phone on my desk rings.
“Hey, Nate?” It’s Brianna, the receptionist, cheerful as ever, and I picture her curls almost bouncing with her tone. “Tessa’s here for your lunch break.”
I blink. I told her I wouldn’t go. That I couldn’t make it.
“Hey, Bri,” I say, smoothing the wrinkle between my brows. “Can you tell her today’s not a good day? Please make sure she knows I’ll be the one to reach out.”
By the time I noticed I’d spent a whole day sending Robyn nothing but thumbs-ups and one-word texts, I’d already decided I needed space from Tessa.
That was Sunday. Before she even showed up unannounced at my place making it sound like we had some kind of lunch “clique” going. We’ve had lunch three times.
Muffled voices filter through the receiver. “I’m sorry, Nate,” Bri says. “She’s on her way to you. Said she’ll only be a minute.”
Of course she is. Tessa has never liked being told no.
I exhale. “Thanks, Br—”
“I told her, Nate,” Bri adds quickly. “She just didn’t listen.”
She’s at my desk before I’m done assuring Bri she did nothing wrong.
Meeting my gaze, she props a hip on my desk. Her green eyes are darker, and it’s … unpleasant. She crosses her arms, leaning in. I take a step back, and her eyes shift, but I don’t give in. I’m done being dumb.
“Hey, Nate,” she says, voice low. She slides onto my desk, her skirt hitching above her mid-thigh.
I cough into my fist and keep my eyes firmly on hers. “Hey. What do you need, Tess?”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Jeez, you don’t sound happy to see me.”
“I told you last night I couldn’t do lunch. So yeah, I’m a little confused why you’re here.”
“Yikes, Nate, are you still sick?” Her hand shoots toward my face, but I catch her wrist and set it next to my sketch pad.
“I’m fine,” I state. “I already said, though, no lunch today. I’ve got work.”
She exhales through her nose, almost a laugh. “How about tomorrow?”
“I told you I’d reach out.”
She taps her fingers on her crossed arms, a break in her composure. “It’s your girlfriend, isn’t it?” The words come out too contained to be nonchalant. “I told her we’ve been having lunch dates, and now—”
“Wow, Tess. We have not been having lunch dates.”
“We go out to eat every day, Nate.”
“Three times. And that’s very different from dating.” I throw back at her.
“So I’m right?” She presses. “Your girlfriend doesn’t want us hanging out, and now you’re just, what? Dropping me?”
“Look, I’m not going to discuss Robyn with you. I said I’ll reach out when I have time, and I meant it.”
She laughs bitterly. “Really, Nate? Out of everybody, I didn’t think you’d drop me for some girl you’ve been with for five minutes.”
“What the fuck, Tessa?” My voice is low, dangerous.
“First of all, Robyn and I have been together over two and a half years—very much not five minutes. Second, this is my call. And if it has anything to do with making sure I’m happy with the person I love, I’d expect one of my closest friends to actually support that. ”
Her chin lifts, a crack of something defiant. “Since when am I not your best friend?”
I stare at her, tilting my chin. “Since Robyn’s my best friend.”
Her eyes shine. “I expected more from you, Nate.”
“Well,” I mutter, “I expected more from you.” And myself.
She pushes off my desk and storms out, the click of her heels sharp against the polished floor.
There’s clarity climbing up my spine, sharp and undeniable.
I’m not sad at all that she left. I pull out my cell to text Robyn.
Not a single message or photo from her. Fuck.
I can fix this. I put boundaries in place.
We’ll be all right in no time. My fingers fly over the keyboard.
Me: Hey, I’d like to meet at your place tonight. Can I let myself in and cook?
Thumbs-up.
I deserve that.