19. We’re Friends, Aren’t We? #3
“Jane Eyre. Hands down.” The words spill out before I can think. “She… kind of reminds me of myself. Her childhood was wretched. And then she finally falls in love, only to find out he has a wife.” An amused huff escapes me, more to myself than to him. “It… kind of mirrors my own love life.”
“Your love life?” His brows rise, curiosity mixing with concern.
Warmth blooms at the nape of my neck. “Well… lack thereof, I guess.” I twist the spoon in my hand.
“I’ve only had one boyfriend. His name was Micah.
We were at the same Academy when I was a teen.
He… he kept me close during rehearsals, but outside of that?
It was like I didn’t exist. When he left for a company in California, he didn’t even look back. I don’t think he was sad at all.”
Nik’s voice softens. “Were you… close to him?”
I bit my lip, trying to dislodge the thought. “No. Not really. Just… a placeholder, I guess. Someone to keep him occupied until his real dreams came along.”
Nik’s Adam’s apple bobs. “So he… put you off relationships?”
I scrape the last of the filling from the bowl. “I haven’t really thought about it much. He kind of… put me off love.” I force a small laugh, trying to lighten the weight of it. “Maybe I’m destined to be a crazy cat lady.”
“Ugh, cats.” Nik wrinkles his nose in exaggerated disgust, and I can’t help laughing for real this time.
“What about you?” I ask, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “After your many… girlfriends… Do you ever think about settling down?”
Nik nearly drops the dumpling in his hands, fumbling before catching it.
“They weren’t my girlfriends, I can assure you of that.
” The words came out fast, and his expression shifts like he instantly regrets saying it.
He clears his throat, softer this time. “What I mean is… I made a lot of mistakes when it comes to women. For a long time, I didn’t want a girlfriend because I wasn’t sure anyone could accept my past.” He lowers his eyes to the dumpling in his hands, thumbs pressing the edges together.
“But lately…” He pauses and exhales. “I guess you could say my mind’s been opened. ”
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” I say, feeling like a bundle of nerves. “I, on the other hand, probably won’t. Other than finding someone who actually likes me for me—” A weak laugh slips from my lips. “Well, they’ll definitely run the second they meet my family.”
Nik’s brows pull together. “What’s your family like?”
I glance up at him, allowing a sneer to curl my lip.
“My older brother, Edward, is a judge at the New York 4th district court, Bellchester branch. I never see him, never hear from him. He’s close with my older sister, though.
Scarlett. She’s a labor and delivery nurse at Lanswell Regional.
They’re both always busy, but somehow they still make time for each other. ”
I pause, swallowing. “Then there’s my mom. You might’ve heard of her—Catherine Montgomery.”
His eyes widen a fraction, but he remains quiet, listening.
“She’s a private ballet coach,” I add, sourly. “And then my dad… Well, he left right after I was born. My whole family basically blames me for him leaving.” I manage an indifferent shrug, forcing a sharp breath through my nose. “So yeah. Dysfunctional.”
Nik just watches me, a grounding presence radiating from him as he carefully considers his words.
“I actually met your mom at the gala a few months ago,” he says finally. “I can assure you that any man worth your time can handle her.”
He places the last pelmeni neatly on the cutting board, then shifts toward me, giving me his full attention.
“And not everyone has a perfect family, Eleanor. My dad, for instance—he used to be the most loving, heartfelt man. But after my mom got cancer the first time… and after Daria—” His mouth narrows.
“He changed. He became mean. Angry. He’d throw vases, glasses, lamps—anything within reach.
And on his worst days…” He pauses, his voice lowering. “I became the punching bag.”
A palpable pressure fills the space between us. He turns, picks up a pot, and begins filling it with water, like the motion grounds him.
“But here’s the thing.” He places the pot down, sparks the burner, and turns back to meet my gaze. “We aren’t our parents. Whoever wants you will love you for you. Not for your family. Not for your past. Just you.”
I hold his gaze, unable to look away. He’s so much more than I imagined, and I can’t stop wondering if my heart could ever survive being broken by the man standing in front of me?
“Now,” he says, gesturing to the pelmeni. “Grab those, and let’s start cooking them.”
Once all the pelmeni are cooked, Nik tops them with a little sour cream and dill. He wastes no time digging in, while I’m stuck in place.
I knew this moment was coming. I knew what I’d have to do.
I take a bite. The taste is exceptional. It’s rich, comforting, and unlike anything I’ve ever eaten. I’m so consumed by the flavor that I don’t even realize I finish an entire bowl. But then reality hits, like a twig snapping underfoot. The weight of what I’ve just done presses down in my stomach.
I can’t show Nik that. The day has been perfect. I loved every moment. The laughter, the cooking, even Louie’s little antics. It felt like home. Peaceful. Safe.
But dawn always brings the waking world. So when Nik drops me back home that afternoon, I head straight for the bathroom, regret already gnawing at my insides.
I grab the toothbrush from its holder and shove it to the back of my throat as far as it will go. The whispers in my mind egg me on: do it, or you’ll regret it. My eyes water as everything I’ve eaten today comes back up. I heave for long, harrowing minutes, until my stomach is empty.
When I’m done, I curl into a ball against the wall and cry. Cry for what I’ve done. Cry for who I’ve become. Cry for the girl I can no longer be.
I cry over Nik—over all the care he’s shown me—only to prove I’m exactly what I’ve always feared. A failure. I’m not worthy of his time, his kindness, his trust. I’m a lost cause, undeserving of his attention, even as my feelings for him grow into something I don’t know how to survive.
When I finally crawl into bed that night, the tears don’t stop right away. They soak into my pillow until self-hatred and exhaustion finally pull me under.