Chapter Thirty-one
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TOBIAS
Natalie hasn’t spoken the entire car ride home. I know she’s replaying Cassie’s words over and over.
Bored?
Does she honestly think I’ll get bored with her? That’s impossible.
My life is nothing but amazing with her, and it’s better than ever because she’s in it.
I need to tell her that, but right now I’m afraid she’ll think I’m just saying it to cheer her up.
Bored.
That one word pisses me off.
Not only because of what Cassie said, but because Natalie has implied this more than once, and I never once caught on to it enough to talk to her about it before now. She was basically telling me from the start that this was a concern of hers, and I never noticed.
I should have noticed.
Has she been worried this entire time?
Yeah, so it’s only been a few weeks since we started fooling around, but we have known each other for years. She should know that she can trust me by now.
What does it say about us if she doesn’t know that?
I pull into the garage and get out to open her door.
She beats me to it and then moves like a zombie into the house, setting her purse down and shrugging off her coat.
I rest my hand on her lower back.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
I take my coat off, too, hanging it up on the hook by the door. When I turn back around, she hasn't moved.
“She’s wrong. Every word she said was wrong.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she snaps and turns to face me. “He cheated on me. He was bored. I was boring to him.”
I rest my hands on my hips. “He’s an idiot, Natalie. There is nothing boring about you.”
Her hands fly up, and she huffs. She marches past me and up the stairs, but I’m hot on her tail.
“Where are you going?” I ask, following her.
“I don’t know.”
“Dove, wait.”
“And for the love of all there is in this world, will you just tell me why you call me Dove?”
I shake my head. If she weren’t visibly upset, I might tell her. But this isn’t the time for me to reveal that.
“Typical.” She tosses her hands up again, heads into the bedroom, and opens the closet. She jerks the door so hard that it slams off the wall behind it.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Leaving,” she says and grabs her suitcase.
“Leaving?” I grab her bag out of her hands.
“Stop. Give it back.”
“You’re not leaving. You're running.”
“Because this is going to end eventually. It won’t work out. It’s better to call it now.”
“It won’t work out?” I repeat back to her. “How do you figure that?”
“Because we … the longer we let this go on, the harder it’ll be when it ends.”
She can’t be serious right now.
“Why does it have to end?”
She sighs, reaching again for her suitcase, but I move so she can’t grab it. She takes a breath and then looks me dead in the eyes.
“You don’t want me, Tobias. You only think we should keep doing this because you’re afraid to lose me.”
“You’re damn straight I’m scared to lose you.”
I toss a hand into the air, turning away from her and then circle back.
“You,” I gesture to her with my hand. “You’re my best friend.”
“I know,” she says softly. “And you’ll aways be mine, even if we aren’t together romantically.”
“No. This is not happening right now,” I start to argue. She’s scared, and I get it. But she’s making a mistake, and I won’t let her do it. I open my mouth to say more, but she beats me to it.
“We never talked about what being more to each other would mean. Or about where this will go. We didn’t think things through. We just started being more and went with it.”
She starts to pull clothes off the hangers. Did she ever mean to make it more than what we were? Hell, it was more. It is more.
“We can talk about it now.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” she says, refusing to look at me.
“Fine. Then you can listen. I don’t see an end for us. For me, the end is each night you are with me, in my arms, in my bed. You are the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see when my eyes open every morning. Tonight, tomorrow, next month, next year, twenty years from now. You’re it for me.” I toss my hands up, waiting for her to say something. All she gives me is silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t go about it the right way and that I didn’t tell you fully how I felt the moment I felt it, but I’m telling you now. Don’t go. Please.”
The suitcase drops, and she starts to cry. I reach for her, feeling as if someone had just shoved a knife into my heart. She doesn't back up or try to step away; she just lets me hold her.
“Don’t go,” I repeat, kissing the top of her head as her tears soak my shirt.
“I’m scared you’ll get bored of me.” Her words are muffled into my shirt, but I hear them clearly.
Fuck.
Why didn’t I talk to her about this sooner?
I pull back, crouching to eye level with her. I cup her face, kiss her, and then make sure she’s focused only on me. “That will never happen.”
“What if it does?”
“It won’t.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes. Trust me, okay?”
She thinks about my words for a moment, then nods. We get ready for bed in silence, which I hate, but I let her take the lead on the night. When we climb into bed, she snuggles to me, so I assume the night has taken a toll on her, and she just needed a moment to let it all out. She falls asleep before me, but I stay awake for another hour.
Our first fight and we made it.
We made it.
Or so I thought.
By the time the sun rises in the morning, she’s gone.