36. Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-six
Nate
Samantha’s skirt whirled around her legs as her head tipped back, releasing her laughter to the star-filled sky.
The band rolled into the next song without pause, fiddle and guitar chasing each other across the fairgrounds.
Her boots trampled the dirt and flattened grass, and I did my best to keep up with her.
That was all I’d been doing the past couple weeks—keeping up. When I stopped, when it was quiet, I had time to think. To remember what it felt like standing at the end of the hallway, overhearing the worst parts of Samantha and Rosalie’s conversation.
At least I hoped to god it had been the worst. I couldn’t imagine anything more gutting than my ex telling the woman I had fallen in love with she wished she’d never met me.
A couple barreled toward us, too caught up in each other to notice where they were going. I caught Samantha around the waist and pivoted us out of their path, earning another surprised laugh.
“My hero!”
“I’m trying.”
She pressed a kiss to my jaw. “You’re doing incredible.”
Were Rosalie’s words rattling around in her brain too? Was she wondering when she’d start wishing the same?
I kept us moving so the doubts couldn’t settle, finding the beat as I tugged her into another spin. The hem of her yellow sundress floated around her thighs, and her cowboy boots kicked up little clouds of dust every time she landed.
She was beautiful like this, pink-cheeked and happy. If I could have bottled this version of her, it would have been the best medicine I’d ever taken. Maybe a cure.
I was determined to keep her laughing, spinning, moving.
Tonight, we were dancing at the fairgrounds. Yesterday, we’d gone to a cat café. Two days before, I’d taken her to the symphony. Last weekend, we’d revisited the alpine slide, and I’d gone fast enough the dread had nearly been left behind.
But it had caught up with me.
Its claws were dug in too deep for me to shrug it off. I should’ve known better by now.
She was never going to see it, though. I couldn’t let her. As long as we kept busy, it’d stay where it was. In the background. At a low level. That meant pushing past the anvil on my chest and getting out of bed each day. I had no choice. If I didn’t, she’d know. She’d see. I couldn’t have that.
Eventually, she needed to rest, and I knew better than to try to cajole her into another dance. We lay down on the blanket I’d spread out for us, our heads together, fingers tangled.
“I don’t think I ever pictured you as a dancer,” she said.
“What I did out there hardly qualified as dancing.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You have moves.” She raised one of her legs, pointing her toe toward the sky. “Did you know I took ballet lessons when I was a kid?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. All the way up until I was twelve.” She pointed and flexed her foot a few times before letting it fall back to the blanket.
“My favorite teacher thought I had a lot of potential and talked to my mom about auditioning for a performing arts camp. I guess she thought my mom would be all for it, so she’d had the conversation with her while I’d been standing there. ”
I turned toward her, studying her profile. “It didn’t go well?”
“No.” Her mouth tugged into a bitter smile. “My mother asked if Kelly could audition too. When she didn’t get the answer she wanted, she pulled us both out. That was the last time I danced.”
“Holy hell, Sam. I don’t know what to say.”
Why didn’t I know what to say?
She turned to her side, propping herself up on her elbow.
“Why would you? It’s such a wild thing for a mom to do.
There’s not really anything anyone could say.
” Her fingers idly danced over the buttons on my shirt.
“At the time, it’d wrecked me, but I’m pretty much over it now.
It wasn’t like I was going to become a professional dancer or anything. ”
“But you loved it.”
“I did. You know, at the time, the most upsetting part was thinking about my teacher and how guilty she must have felt when I didn’t come back. I really hope she was okay, and she doesn’t still carry that with her.”
“Samantha…” I slipped my fingers through her silky hair, cupping the back of her head. My heart climbed into my throat, lodging itself there.
She smiled down at me, tapping her fingers to the beat of the music the band played. “Don’t yell at me for being so pitiful.”
“Yelling at you is the last thing on my mind.”
“Adrian would.” She chuffed, but it was with affection. “He’s always telling me to stop putting other people’s feelings first.”
“He has a point, but that wasn’t what I was thinking.”
Her eyes met mine, glimmering and curious. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about your heart. How big it is. How big it’s always been. Wondering how I’d managed to miss that until recently.”
“Too big, maybe.”
I shook my head. “To me, it seems just the right size. It’s astonishingly beautiful.”
“Well…” She blinked, her nose crinkling. “You’ve filled it up pretty completely, Nate.”
“I filled your heart?”
She nodded, rolling her lips over her teeth.
I took her hand, laying it flat over my pounding heart. “You’re in there, Samantha. Deep.”
Her mouth fell open with a light gust of breath. “Are you saying you’re falling for me?”
“Come on.” I huffed a laugh. “The falling has already happened.”
“Oh.” A few more blinks, a nose crinkle, then a small smile. “So you’re saying…”
“I’m saying I just realized I’m in love with you, but I think I have been for a while now.”
Another “Oh,” but this one was higher, squeakier, and her smile grew. “You’re…I…” She licked her lips, then rubbed them together and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I love you too, Nate.”
“Yeah?” I tilted my head, trying to get a clear picture of this moment for my memories. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“It’s the best one I’ve had in a while.”
I hoped so. I never wanted her to look back on this and wish she could take it back.
I’d just have to try harder to keep her happy and fight the dread looming like an oncoming storm.
My thoughts were sticky. The inside of my skull was one of those plasma globes I’d had as a kid. I paced my bathroom, the lights off, staying on the rugs so my footsteps were silent. Sweat beaded my brow and dripped down my back even though my skin was clammy and too cold.
This was the second night. No, third. Maybe fourth.
What day was it?
The rope in my hands was frayed, and it was all I could do to hold on. If I let go, everything would unravel.
I could not let go.
There was too much to do. Roman and I were closing a deal in the upcoming weeks. We had an investor meeting next week, plans for more acquisitions. It didn’t stop. Couldn’t. And he had his kids, his wife—too much for me to let go of my end. I had to keep moving. Keep carrying my load.
I paced, rubbing my head to find some relief. Painkillers didn’t touch it. I’d taken…far too many, and my skull was still acting as a conductor to high-voltage electrical currents. How had I ever thought those plasma balls were cool as a child? What kind of toy was that?
Samantha was sleeping. At least she was sleeping. Peaceful. And she was in my bed, where I needed her. As long as she was there, I could work through this. Battle it back until it was quiet enough to get some rest.
That was how it had been working, but the last four nights, though…
or was it five? There’d been no stopping the onslaught of sticky thoughts.
They were putty, attaching to every surface they touched and stretching to impossible lengths.
One thought tumbled into another until the whole night was gone and I had to sneak back into bed so Samantha wouldn’t know I’d spent the night in the bathroom getting my ten thousand steps.
It was starting to scare me, but every time I thought about reaching out—to my doctor, to Roman, to Ade or Ben—heavy, cloying dread kept me from lifting a finger. What if this was the normal result of losing a mother and I had to work through it?
This wasn’t how I’d felt when it had gotten bad before, so maybe that wasn’t what this was.
I could function. It was getting trickier, but I could get out of bed and go to work.
My feelings were switched on. If anything, they were stronger than ever.
I was in love, and I made love to my beautiful girlfriend every night.
I held her tight in my arms and felt her deep in my heart, surrounding my organs, under my skin.
If it were bad, I wouldn’t feel those things.
This had to be grief. And if it was grief, it wouldn’t last forever. It would play out then eventually end. If I made a call, they’d think it was more than that.
And then what?
No, no, no. This was better. These walls were mine. The rugs under my feet were soft, and so what if they got a little worn from all my pacing?
I had my Sammie. I had my girl. We loved each other.
I wasn’t going to carry this forever.
It would play out. It would end.
Just wait it out…
I’d be okay.