Chapter 25
NATE
Ilay flat on my back, staring at the ceiling like it might rearrange itself into answers if I just kept looking. My bedroom was dark except for the ambient light and the dim glow of my phone resting against my chest.
Emma’s latest email sat open on the screen. I’d read it five times already. Maybe six. At this point, I could almost recite it from memory.
I’m sorry I didn’t show up at the station. I was going to cancel too. I don’t know why this feels so hard all of a sudden, but I think we need to talk. I’m back in NYC. Not sure how long I’ll be here. Is there a way to meet up soon?
Guilt tore at me, sharp and relentless. The kind that didn’t just sit in my stomach but had worked its way into my bones, making them feel brittle and fragile.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, dragging it down slowly before lifting the phone again and rereading her words.
It kept feeling like there was something hidden between those lines.
The tone was so completely different than what I’d known from her all these years that I didn’t know what to make of it.
Eventually, I decided to just text her.
Me: I’ll be in NYC this weekend. Does Sunday work?
As I watched the message disappear into the void between us, it felt like she was farther away than ever, but her response came faster than I’d expected.
Emma: I’ll let you know.
That was it. No heart emoji, although she only used it occasionally. No teasing sign-off. Just four words that landed with a hollow thud inside my chest.
I let my arm fall to the mattress. My phone was still clutched loosely in my hand as I moved my gaze back to the ceiling again. Something about our messages these last few weeks felt thinner. More superficial. Like the thread between Emma and me had frayed while I hadn’t been looking.
And God help me, I hate how relieved that makes me feel.
I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling sharply through my nose. Five years. That was what I was so relieved to lose. Five fucking years of my life, the last few of which I’d practically been abstinent.
In the beginning of our relationship, it had just been a cyber thing. A friendship that had been growing but no more. Back then, I’d been the same as my brothers and cousins, avoiding all emotional attachment while plowing through one woman after another when the mood struck.
God, we’re assholes. All of us. Every last one.
But even so, I’d thought of it as a necessary evil. Not even Uncle Harlan had started with his ultimatums in those days, so while we’d all known what was probably coming, there had been no due date. No deadline. It had simply seemed easier just to satisfy my urges and get the hell out.
Until one day, when I’d been about to bring a woman home with me, a message had come through from Emma moments before we’d left for my place. My fleeting interest in the one-night stand had drained out of me when I’d seen Emma’s name, and ever since, I just hadn’t gone back.
My chest tightened as I remembered Kate against those couch cushions. The sound of her breathless gasp when I’d lifted her up echoed in my ears. The heat of her body still warmed me. I remembered how soft she was. How fucking wet.
I groaned and dragged my forearm over my eyes like I could physically block out the memories. Some miracle of self-preservation had slammed the brakes before Kate and I had crossed that final line and I was grateful for it. I was.
But shit.
It was like walking up to your favorite Italian restaurant, stomach roaring with hunger, and only having the bread they serve before the meal. Sure, it’s great fucking bread, worth making the trip for all on its own. But it’s not the chicken parm your heart really wants.
I stared into the darkness, my cock straining against my shorts as her moans sped through my mind.
Turning onto my side, I looked at the faint outline of the city lights bleeding through the curtains.
Chicago glittered beyond the glass, indifferent to the fact that my personal life had gone to shit.
I probably should’ve been thinking about Emma.
About finally meeting her on Sunday. About five years of history that deserved more than the fractured attention I was giving it right now, but my brain kept circling back to the way Kate’s new ring—my mother’s ring—had caught the light when she’d twisted her hand in the car.
How soft, almost shy, her voice had gotten when she’d said maybe we could try being friends.
A humorless laugh slid out of me at the thought. Approximately two minutes after she’d said it, my mouth had been on hers and we’d done things to each other friends typically didn’t.
I rolled onto my back again, pressing the heel of my palm against my hardening dick. “Get it together, Nate. Come on.”
In roughly forty-eight hours, I’d be in New York, standing in the same city as the woman I’d built half my emotional life around, and all I could think about was my fiancée. My soon-to-be wife.
The woman I was apparently becoming addicted to one heartbeat at a time, because the longer I lay there, the more I wanted her—and only her. With a need that was so overwhelming that I eventually just gave into it.
The next morning, I knocked on Kate’s door earlier than necessary, mostly because sleep had been a joke and staring at my ceiling had stopped being productive around five a.m. I shifted my weight, running a hand through my hair and debating whether I should’ve texted first when the door suddenly swung open.
Kate was already fully dressed, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and a small suitcase standing behind her like she’d been waiting for me.
“Oh,” I said.
“Good morning to you, too,” she replied, adjusting her grip on the suitcase handle. Her tone was lighter than I’d expected, but her eyes flicked over my face quickly before darting away, like she was checking for something and didn’t want to linger long enough to find it.
“You’re ready,” I finally managed.
Kate in jeans and a fitted shirt was a sight to behold, though. She arched an eyebrow at me. “You said early, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t think you’d take it as a challenge.”
The corners of her lips curved into a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it’d appeared, the silence that followed strangely foreign between us.
Kate Vanderhaul had never been quiet a day in her life, at least not around me. I reached for her overnight bag automatically and our fingers brushed during the exchange, the contact brief and accidental, but it still somehow sent a jolt straight up my arm.
She noticed it too, her shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly, but neither of us acknowledged it. I transferred her bag to my shoulder and reached for her suitcase.
I cleared my throat. “The car is waiting downstairs.”
“Okay.”
That was it, the entirety of our conversation before we headed for the elevator. I caught her glancing at my reflection in the mirrored wall once, but she immediately pretended to be fascinated by the numbers lighting up above the doors when she saw me looking at her.
By the time we stepped into the garage, my driver was waiting beside the black SUV that would take us to the airfield. I’d already brought my things down earlier.
Kate nodded at him when he opened the back door, but neither of us spoke as we slid into the car, and the actual drive passed in that same, careful quiet. Alex’s private jet was sleek and gleaming against the pale morning sky when we arrived.
I’d flown with him dozens of times, but this was the first time I was kind of pissed that we were taking his jet instead of mine.
Shit, does that mean I actually care about impressing her? I nearly scoffed out loud at the thought, but that didn’t make the sentiment any less true. Holy fuck, I do care. I want her to know I have one too. I want her to like it. To know the world will be her oyster while we’re married.
Some kind of sound must’ve escaped me because Kate turned to me as the driver opened the door for her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I looked at the hangar as I climbed out of the car and pretended I wasn’t being an idiot right now.
Alex and Jane were already boarding when we reached the steps. My brother turned, waiting for us with that usual, easy grin he wore these days. “Look who decided to finally show up. I’m glad you could join us.”
He pulled Kate into a quick, brotherly hug that earned him a mock glare from her. “You say that like I’ve ever missed anything important.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? I’m kind of looking forward to finding out, though.” He released her and motioned at the open door to the cabin. “You remember Jane?”
“Of course.” Kate smiled when Jane appeared behind him, radiant and slightly pale at the same time.
She beamed when she saw us, moving carefully down a step to hug Kate first and then me. “Hi. I’m so glad we’re all going together. Misery loves company after all.”
“Misery?” I repeated after her. “What are you miserable about?”
“Morning sickness,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It turns out it doesn’t care about time zones, private jets, or my carefully planned snack rotation. What goes down, must come up.”
Alex immediately slid an arm around her shoulders, guiding her back up the stairs like she might dissolve into mist if he didn’t maintain physical contact at all times. But he glanced back at me with worry flickering in his eyes. “She’s exaggerating. She’s only thrown up twice this morning, right?”
“Three times,” she said sweetly when he looked back at her. “But who’s counting?”
Kate laughed softly beside me, the sound warm and genuine. I caught myself watching her for a beat before forcing my attention back to Alex. He was completely caught up in Jane, though.
Not for the first time, I noticed the constant, silent communication happening between them.
When they sat down next to each other, their knees touched.
They kept glancing at each other. Just all these small, automatic gestures.
Alex passed her water before she asked. Jane adjusted his tie when it slid slightly crooked.
It was easy. Comfortable. A shared life.
Like I always thought things would be for Emma and me once we finally met in person.
Instead, it was Kate by my side when we sat down across from them. Kate buckling into the seat next to me, her gaze drifting over to mine like she was checking if I needed help.
The engines began their low, starting rumble, and the safety briefing droned through the cabin. I stared out the window, tracking the slow taxi across the runway, my stomach tightening with that familiar dread.
“Are you okay?” Kate murmured quietly, obviously clocking my discomfort at first glance.
“I hate flying,” I admitted under my breath, keeping my eyes forward. “Always have. Statistically, I know it’s irrational, but—”
Her hand slipped into mine, a subtle, careful movement hidden between the armrests and the fold of her jacket draped across her lap.
But her fingers curled around my palm and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze like it was the most natural thing in the world—and in that moment, I couldn’t deny that it felt like it really was.