24. Natalie
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NATALIE
The weather app had given her an hour before afternoon storms moved in, but the cloud formations building overhead said otherwise.
Other than a short stint in Cross Country during junior high, Natalie had never been a runner.
But all the forces of nature were suddenly at play in her life, drawing her to the park track.
She tried to find a rhythm, one that matched the beat thumping in her earbuds, but a pronounced stitch in her right side downgraded her jog to a walk after less than a mile.
Her hope that some time outdoors could be a salve, a way to soothe all mental ailments and help her get out of her head, just wasn’t working.
She’d landed at O’Hare at eight-thirty, giving her plenty of time to put in at least a good half-day’s worth of work at Soiree, but her mind had become the equivalent of tangled Christmas lights.
Broken ones at that. She needed a full down day to reset before returning to the office, or to life in general.
She hadn’t talked to Kate, other than a generic text in their family group thread confirming her safe return.
Same with Noah and Otto’s assistant, except now she claimed the sudden onset of a virus—true, if you considered Dash Benning a virus, with the number one symptom being regret.
About two miles into her walk, she formed a plan.
You’ve worked your ass off for months. You need a real break.
Spend the week in pajamas, DoorDash every meal, and disappear into every season of The Traitors.
Do whatever it takes to banish Kate and Dash from your thoughts.
Easier said than done. Kate and Dash had front row seats in her mind. She’d even dreamed about them in the few hours she’d managed to sleep before slipping out of the house under the cover of darkness. The two of them, wrapped up in whispers, lingering kisses, and late-night promises.
I can't do this.
At that exact moment, the sky opened. Rain fell hard and fast, like the memories of her London tryst. Dash's mouth exploring her own.
Her hands guiding his hips. The warmth in those quiet after-moments on his sofa.
Side stitch be damned. She found her footing, determined to run the raw ache out of her body.
But the pounding in her heart overtook her and she couldn't make it another step.
She stopped in the middle of the path, soaked to the bone.
Bent over with her hands on her knees for support, she gave up and a storm of tears poured from her eyes.
Two different women stopped to offer assistance, but Natalie waved them off, claiming to be fine.
But she wasn’t fine.
And it wasn’t just Dash.
It was the fire at Terrace Oak.
The double whammy: no investor had replied to the emails she’d sent while waiting for her flight back—reassuring them that partnership with her would be lit, but not with actual flames.
So much for starting Natalie & Co in nine months. Or eighteen. Or ever.
The universe has spoken.
Time to move on from this dream.
Another one bites the dust.
Drained and drenched, she walked in defeat back to her apartment. A trail of wet clothes in her wake, she took refuge in a hot shower. As the water rolled down her bare skin, her thoughts returned to Dash and the moments they shared behind her bedroom door.
Natalie's chest heaved again, tapping the well with more tears. Her thoughts divided into opposing camps: the proverbial angel on one shoulder, devil on the other.
You can’t go on like this. You have to tell Kate the truth. No man is worth sacrificing your love and loyalty to your sister. And she’s more than a sister. Kate’s been like your mother for years. And Mom would want you to be honest with her.
And Dash agreed it was best to say nothing. Because he wants to make it work with Kate? His not wanting to mess things up couldn’t mean anything else.
She stepped from the shower and into her favorite silky robe, then twisted her hair up inside a towel.
From the kitchen, she contemplated Noah’s prescription—straight bourbon out of a coffee cup, but decided against alcohol.
Instead, she refilled her water bottle, grabbed a half-eaten pint of ice cream, and headed for the couch.
She reached for her cell phone and queued up her favorite playlist on Spotify.
In seconds, Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” echoed softly throughout her living room via a wireless speaker.
Natalie stared out at the city beyond her tiny balcony in silent contemplation.
Dash owned her thoughts, now more than ever.
The details of their secret Sunday night pow-wow played in her head like a movie.
As her head bobbed in time with the song, she quietly dissected Ms. Nicks' haunting lyrics, recalling exactly what she had … and what she’d lost.
What she had.
And what she’d lost.
Eyes closed, Natalie made a final plea for inner peace, praying the morning would bring clarity and a white flag for the internal war that raged within.
She polished off the ice cream and retreated to her bedroom.
Teeth brushed and book in hand, she read until her phone lit up with the notification of a missed call from Noah.
Aww, Noah. Natalie had lost count of the many voicemails he’d left over the last twenty-four hours.
They’d spoken only via text since her return, and her responses had been pretty cryptic: I’m home. I’m sick. We’ll talk later.
Her phone lit up again, this time with a text from him containing three words: I’m coming in. Seconds later, she heard the sound of a key in the lock.
“Are you decent?” Noah yelled.
“I’m naked and already in bed,” she called out.
“Good thing I’m a gay man and not tempted in the least,” he hollered back.
“Give me a second, please.”
Natalie fished a clean pair of leggings and a faded Hall & Oates’ t-shirt from a laundry basket beside her dresser.
She dressed quickly, taking inventory of her bedroom.
Her bed, nothing but a mass of rumpled linens dotted with books and magazines.
The floor, littered with an assortment of discarded clothing.
Her whole apartment, like her life, in total disarray.
For those who knew her well, these were giant red flags.
"That key is for emergencies only,” she announced.
"By the look of things, I think this qualifies as such," he shot back. “This kitchen is a disgrace. But you’ve been busy with the showcase and under the weather, so I won’t judge.”
Natalie tore off her head towel and raked her fingers through her damp hair. She made her way to the kitchen where she found Noah darting around like a man on a mission.
“Stop!” he warned upon sight of her. “Get back in bed before you ruin the whole surprise.”
“Noah, you shouldn’t have.”
“But I have, so indulge me, s’il vous pla?t.” He made a motion with his hand.
Natalie turned and retreated to her bedroom, scooping up enough dirty clothes to clear a path to her bed. She’d barely slipped back under the covers when he entered, tray in hand.
“Powell, table for one!” he said, beaming with pride as he placed the tray on her lap. He stood beside her bed, ready to receive her endless praise.
Natalie inspected the tray, which held her dream order from a French bistro she’d been dying to try but didn’t have the funds for.
Noah’s thoughtfulness on beautiful display, all the way down to the tiny posey perched in a silver cup.
The gesture should have made her feel better, but it only flipped the switch on her tears.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not a virus, is it?”
“No,” Natalie squeaked out. “The weekend was a total clusterfuck.”
“I seriously doubt—”
Natalie held up a hand, halting his response. Noah stopped talking and just let her cry. When she finally regained her composure, she filled him in on every warped detail in between bites of pan-seared foie gras, saving the most heart-wrenching plot twist until the end.
“Kate’s new boyfriend … is Mr. Crown.”
Saying it out loud sent her tears into turbo mode.
Loud, ugly sobs bounced off the walls of her tiny bedroom.
Noah’s hand shot to his mouth. He sat there, eyeballs wide with shock, like an emoji in human form, and shook his head in disbelief.
After a few seconds, he moved the tray and pulled her into his arms, rocking her back and forth as he whispered things like, “It’s gonna be okay” and “Let it all out” and “I’m here for you”.
Once she regained a degree of composure, Natalie filled him in on every excruciating detail of the weekend from hell.
“I could have had it all, Noah. My dream career and the man of my dreams. I thought I had to make a choice. I thought every man would do to me what Roman did. I was too afraid to take a chance on Dash and now …”
"What did he say when you told him you’ve moved on?"
“Nothing. He just nodded, wished me the best of luck, and left.”
"And how did it feel … when he said he’d never stopped thinking about you?"
Natalie struggled for a word or sentiment to convey the intensity of the moment. Did one even exist?
"It’s the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered, a tightness returning to her chest. “I’m not sure—”
Natalie’s phone lit up, stealing her attention mid-sentence. A text from Kate containing their secret sister code to call, then hang up.
“What? Who is it?” Noah asked.
“Shit, it’s Kate, with the secret code,” she said.
“Think she’s with Dash? Maybe he told her? And she needs an excuse to get out of there?”
Natalie tapped the Favorites icon on her phone screen and clicked on Kate’s number. She let the call ring twice. She started to end the call when Noah grabbed her hand and whispered, “Don’t hang up. Just talk to her. There’s no time like the present.”
Natalie shook her head.
Noah snatched her phone away. “Then I will.”
“Don’t you dare,” Natalie warned, her voice low.
After a twist of his lips, Noah conceded, tossing the phone to the other side of her bed. “Sooner or later, you have to tell her. You can't keep this a secret, no matter how much you might want to."
"And what should I say? Hey, that's a really great guy you've got there, and I should know because I slept with him last year. She's my sister, Noah. My goddamn sister! She lost her husband and now she's finally happy again after some pretty awful years."
Natalie’s emotions had gone full-on Texas weather forecast—scorching heat one minute, torrential rain the next. A tornado in human form. Noah remained silent for a moment, watching and waiting for her emotions to settle.
“Okay, let’s be rational and take a breath, please," he cautioned.
“Kate doesn’t know, and I’m not going to tell her.”
“You have to come clean with her. If Dash were to say something later—”
“He won’t. We agreed we’d keep it between us.”
“I love you, Nat, but keeping Mr. Crown a secret is the wrong play. How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”
She looked into the understanding eyes of her best friend. "I just want her to be happy."
"You wanna know something?" he asked after a long pause. “She wants the very same thing for you."
Noah stayed until she finished dinner, going so far as to tidy her kitchen and start a load of towels down in the basement laundry room.
He poked his head back in her bedroom one last time.
"Before I forget, I brought a few odds and ends from the office—vendor samples mostly. Thought you might want to play catch-up in case you were planning to be out the rest of the week. I left everything in the kitchen … except for this.”
From behind his back, he pulled a piece of printer paper into view. He smiled as he gave it a little shake.
“What’s that?”
“A copy of your report. From the opera gala. I’ve gotta say, I think it’s the best thing you’ve ever written.”
He weaved his way through the minefield of crap on her floor and placed the paper onto her lap with a great flourish. Natalie read the page in silence while Noah stood quietly beside the bed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Every line warmed her insides like a bowl of homemade chicken soup.
“Note your attention to detail and clever turn of phrase. God, you’re so talented.” He bit back a grin. “You took a ton of pics too—the printed menus, the centerpieces, those gorgeous desserts.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with emotion. “You stayed at the gala … and did all this for me?”
“I did this for us. You know, in case the showcase didn’t go over as planned. I emailed everything to Otto’s assistant. She emailed back with her standard Received! message. No word from Otto, but he’s probably waiting until you get back, so you can talk in person.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Natalie shook her head in amazement as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You can thank me by getting back to work. Natalie & Co had a small setback, but tomorrow we put our heads together, we right this ship, and we get our butts back on course.”
Natalie walked him to the door. Noah pulled her close and they held each other for a full minute. Time and again, he helped her find her smile. What a gift, his fiercely loyal friendship.
"You know, if I were a straight man, I'd fight tooth and nail to make you mine," he whispered.
"If you were a straight man, you wouldn't have to," she whispered back. "I'd be yours."
Noah opened the door and turned back to her. “If Dash and Kate were serious, he wouldn’t have come to your room. He would’ve continued the charade.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Noah reached out and touched her cheek. “You don’t have to choose, Nat. You can have it all—your dream business and your dream guy. And I say this with all the love in my heart: maybe just get out of your own way.”
The door closed behind him. Natalie stood there for a moment, digesting his parting words.
Noah’s right. Time to get out of my own way.