Chapter 23 #4
I draw in a ragged breath, fighting the urge to stay silent.
At last, the words tear free. “When it gets hard, you pull away. It’s the one thing I can’t bear.
You shut me out, or you take yourself away before I even understand what’s wrong.
It makes me afraid to put things on the table, because I don’t know if the price will be you leaving. ”
I exhale, pressing my forehead to hers, the admission raw.
“That’s why I act before you can decide for me.
I tell myself that the things I do are for your own good—that I’m just taking care of you, loving you—but if I strip it down, it’s also fear.
Fear that if I asked, you’d say no. Fear that if I waited, you’d run. So I make the choice for you. For us.”
Her hand stills on my chest. “Nate…”
“I know it isn’t fair,” I confess. “I know it costs you something every time. But in the moment, I can’t stomach the risk of losing you. That’s the truth of it.”
Silence settles between us again. It feels like my chest might split from waiting, but I force myself to be patient, to do as she asked of me—to trust her—even as every instinct claws for reassurance.
At long last, she lifts her gaze to meet mine.
Her expression is a little stricken but tender.
“I know I do that. It’s not because I want to…
” She shifts slightly, fingers tightening in the fabric of my shirt as if bracing herself.
“It’s just—the only way I’ve ever known to cope. To retreat until I feel safe again.”
Relief breaks through me like light through water. I cradle her face in my palm, stroking gently along her jaw. “I don’t want you to cope alone. I need to know you’ll stay, especially when it gets hard. And that you’ll let me stay in it with you.”
Her eyes soften. She presses closer, fingertips grazing along my collarbone. “I can try,” she whispers. “I want to try.”
Relief swells in my chest, sharp and almost dizzying.
I can’t resist her then. I never can. The pull toward her is constant and inexorable. I lean in, the space between us narrowing, her breath warm against my mouth. But just before our lips meet, a vibration thrums from the nightstand, rattling against the wood.
My phone.
We both still, foreheads pressed together, our breaths caught between us. I glance sideways, and she follows.
The screen glows with a single word: Mother. I already know what Olivia’s going to say before the words leave her mouth.
“You should answer it.”
I huff, exasperated. “I’m only doing this for you.”
Then, with a sigh, I reach for the phone, my thumb sliding across the screen.
Of late, my mother has certainly made a habit of interrupting my time with Olivia—ever poised to wedge herself into the fragile seams of my peace.
“Nathaniel, darling,” her voice trills through the line, bright and chipper as ever.
I steel myself. “Mother.”
“I’ve arranged for the jet to collect you on Saturday morning. You’ll fly into Teterboro.”
I sit back against the headboard, my mind running a quick audit. What the hell is on Saturday? I’m silent long enough for her to supply the answer herself.
“I can’t wait to see you, especially on such an important occasion—my birthday!”
The memory clicks belatedly into place. The gala. Her fiftieth.
It had slipped my mind entirely, eclipsed by the weeks of chaos, by the unbearable thought of losing Olivia. Everything else had been background noise compared to the catastrophe of her absence.
“Of course,” I answer smoothly, my tone even, hiding the lapse. “Thank you for arranging the jet. I’ll be there.”
Beside me, Olivia’s brows lift, her expression curious, surprised. I realize in that instant she has no idea about the event.
My mother goes on, oblivious. “And you’ll be bringing Olivia, won’t you? She’s already on the list.”
A thrum of unease starts low in my chest. My gaze stays fixed on Olivia.
Too much, too soon? We’ve only just stitched ourselves back together, raw and tender.
And yet, not bringing her would be unthinkable.
My mother already expects her there—Olivia’s presence is non-negotiable.
More than that, I cannot imagine standing in that ballroom without her at my side.
If last winter proved she belongs next to me, this spring will prove she belongs everywhere with me.
“Is she with you now?” my mother presses.
“Yes.” The word leaves me before I can stop it.
“Perfect,” she says, seizing the moment. “Let me speak to her.”
There’s no way out of it. I put the phone on speaker and place it between us.
“Olivia, my dear,” my mother’s voice lilts, warm and expectant. “I hope you’ll do me the honor of joining us on Saturday. It wouldn’t be complete without you.”
I don’t take my eyes off my girl. Every flicker of her face arrests me: the initial surprise, the way her graceful composure slides into place a breath later.
“Of course. Thank you, Renée,” she answers, her tone warm, assured. “I’d be delighted.”
The pride that grips me is almost unbearable. Effortless. She adapts with the poise of someone born to this world, even though she wasn’t. That adaptability humbles me.
The call ends with my mother’s usual effusion, her bright lilt still echoing in the room. I let the phone fall back to the table, exhaling.
Truth is, I had forgotten the date. The reconciliation with Olivia, the confession of my sins, the near loss of her—everything else was swept aside by the magnitude of that fear.
But now? There is nothing left to hide. No secrets to weigh me down.
This time, New York will not be the city of fractures and lies.
It will be the place where I walk beside her openly, with nothing left to break us.
Olivia shifts, propping herself on my chest, her grin tugging at the edges of her mouth. “Perhaps we should continue where we left off?”
My lips curve, my hands sliding instinctively along her waist. The thought alone is enough to undo me.
And just like that, the night belongs to us again.