Chapter 6 #2
“Good. Yeah.” She breathes, all laughter fading. But I think I’ve done a good job at saving the sound because I can still hear echoes of it in my head, my heart beating to the sound like it is its favorite song.
“So, why make up a fake boyfriend?” I ask gently.
Conveniently, her mouth remains full—spoonful after spoonful, until the bowl is empty and her shoulders sag, realizing it’s all gone. “It’s easier this way.”
“Why—What do you mean?”
Natalia shrugs. “I just came to say thank you,” she says, changing the topic of conversation again.
“Tell me where your parents have been,” I say.
“Everywhere?” She huffs a quiet laugh. “Something tells me that in their next life they’ll come back as hippie nomads.”
“World-traveling hippies?”
“Hitch-hiking, backpacking hippies, yes.” Natalia smiles, the freckles across her nose and cheeks bunching together as her lips stretch. “They’ll be happy with that.”
“Do you miss them?” I ask carefully.
“Sometimes,” she mutters. “Do you miss your family?”
I cross my arms again—maybe to hold back emotion or maybe to feel like an embrace, I’m not entirely sure. “I miss my mom every day,” I say. “That will never change, and it will never get easier.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathes.
“Thank you, but she was happy,” I tell her, my lips flinching at the memory.
“Even when she was hooked up on chemo, and even when she asked me and my brother to shave her head, she was so fucking happy.” I chuckle.
“We all shaved our heads with her, but Andrew, being the idiot that he is, shaved his eyebrows too.”
“I remember that.” Natalia laughs—the sound raspy just like her voice, and beautiful. My favorite song. It always sounds like what a hug feels like on a bad day. “Andrew was always an idiot.”
I laugh with her. “Well, I miss him sometimes,” I say. “He goes to Penn now, and my dad is down there with him.”
Her eyes soften and she watches me for a quiet moment, the grief coming out of me and her own sadness pouring out of her. Quietly, she says, “You miss them a lot.”
I lower my chin. “I get it though. For them, our hometown was like…a haunting memory of her. Everywhere they went, her ghost was there.”
“And you don’t see her ghost?”
“I do.” I smile, emotion prickling my eyes. “But she doesn’t haunt me.”
“She visits.”
“She visits,” I echo.
“That’s…really beautiful, Rowan,” she says. “I never thought you’d be this…enlightened.”
I guffaw and go to retrieve her empty bowl. “Thanks.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “For dinner.”
“That was your dinner?”
She laughs, sad and mostly to herself. “And breakfast and lunch,” she mutters. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She shrugs. “I just forgot to eat today.”
I blink and tense. I guessed as much but it’s still upsetting. “This was the only thing you’ve had to eat today?”
Natalia nods and gathers her things, hopping off the stool. “Yeah. Anyway, thank you. For the food and my dads. I owe you croissants and lattes.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I say quickly.
“You’re right.” She smirks. “You did it to yourself.”
“I never mind my business,” I muse.
“Never,” she agrees, amusement dancing on her plump lips.
“Do you know where they are now?”
Natalia pushes a rogue curl behind her gold-bedecked ear, intricate piercings filling her lobes.
If I hadn’t done my research, I wouldn’t know that she has one in each tragus, a hoop in her rook, a double stack in her lobe after the first hole, and a hoop in her conch.
Her other ear has a rose gold hoop in its daith, which she got when we were eighteen, three in her lobe, a stud in her forward helix, and three gold hoops stacked on each other in her helix.
I also know she has a semi-colon tattooed behind her right ear.
“I got a postcard yesterday,” Natalia says quietly, drawing my attention away from her piercings and back to her eyes. “Toronto.”
I snort. “So they really went to Canada.”
She nods. Silent. Damn it.
Some days, I can’t tell if she’s happy they’re gone or not. This is one of those moments when I’m not sure because even though her eyes and reactions tell me she’s heartbroken, dinner with her parents told me otherwise. Like she’d rather not have them come visit at all.
“Natalia—”
“They’re enjoying their retirement,” she says, an empty smile encompassing her lips—not once touching her eyes. “I’m really happy for them.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “You don’t have to be, though.”
Natalia chuckles, a dry sound I wish she’d never make again. “Why wouldn’t I be? They’ve worked hard. They’re been through a lot. They deserve this.”
“You deserve the same thing.”
“Ahh. Pfft.” She waves me off, her eyes avoiding mine. “I don’t…I couldn’t…”
“You deserve the same thing,” I say again, stepping closer until her bent knees are brushing my thighs. I press my palms into the steel until the point of pain so my arms don’t wrap around her.
Natalia shrugs with her mouth and shoulders, trying to appear unconvinced and indifferent. “One day. I have my bakery.”
“Natalia, the bakery doesn’t mean…” I shake my head.
The Black Cat doesn’t mean she’s happy, and she thinks that by telling me that she “has her bakery” I’ll ease off.
I know when Natalia isn’t happy; I know her better than she thinks I do.
But for the sake of saving tonight, and not wanting to ruin this camaraderie, I digress. “I’m glad you have your bakery.”
“That isn’t what you were going to say,” she murmurs, her eyes narrowing up at me.
I sigh and step back, tucking my hands into my pockets. It’s a terrible habit around her, always having to sit on my hands or restrain them so I don’t reach out to touch her.
I wonder if she’s actually clueless, and other times I wonder how could she be so clueless? How much louder can I show her?
“What I was going to say doesn’t matter,” I rasp and lean my hip against the table. “You say you’re happy.”
She squints with suspicion. “You don’t believe me.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “You say you’re happy.”
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Why should I?” I ask too quickly. “Never mind. Let’s see the cupcakes.”
“No.” Natalia pulls the paper box to her chest. “Don’t do that.”
I arch a brow and my hands twitch in my pockets. “Why not? You do it all the time.”
“But that’s not you,” Natalia says quietly. “That’s my thing.”
“Nat…”
She clears her throat quietly and hops off the steel stool. “Here.” She pushes the paper box to me again. “Six flavors. Just tell me your favorites…whenever.”
“Natalia, don’t do that.” I sigh, following her toward the door. “I didn’t—”
She swings around, her eyes red as she peers up at me with flecks of pain around her dark pupils. “Why not? I always do.”
This is one of those moments I wish I had some sort of super power so I could know what’s going on in her head—to know where she’s at. Every time I think I’ve found a cleared path, a safe way to her, I only encounter another road block—a giant detour sign, or a dead end.
I slap my hand over her head on the door, holding it shut should she try to get away before I can ask, “Are you happy, Natalia?”
Her mouth opens to speak.
“Don’t tell me you have your bakery,” I say. “Don’t list off things that you think should make someone happy. Are. You. Happy.”
Her long, dark, fanned out lashes bat in a slow blink. When her lids slide back up, the gaze is softer, warmer. “I’m…Yes.”
“You’re happy?”
“Y-Yes.” Lie. “Are you?”
“Yes,” I say and mean it. “I’m very happy, Natalia.”
“You are?”
I nod. “Sometimes there’s something missing. Someone.”
“Your mom?”
You. “Yeah.” I breathe. “Her too.”
“Oh, um…” She swallows audibly, her lashes batting again. “I’m sorry. Your mom…”
I don’t know how I’ve survived this long, really. It’s like tiny little deaths every time I want to tell her but she ends up walking away. It hurts worse when we have moments like these. It would be so easy to say it out loud right now.
She’s staring up at me with rounded eyes and those lips, parted, full, and pouty.
There are so many things written in the shades of hazel; I wish I could translate them to understand what they mean.
They confuse me. They let me think that maybe, just maybe, I could be lucky enough for her to want the same things. To want me.
“Will you let me know?” Natalia asks, soft and quiet. Her eyes drop quickly to my lips then back up to my eyes and damn it. “About the cupcakes.”
The muscles of my abdomen go taut as though she’s laid her fingers on my skin. “Of course,” I rasp. “Thank you for them.”
“Of course.”
Her eyes flick to my lips again, so I mimic the action. I feel myself inch my face closer to hers. My forehead is so close to hers, I can feel the breath coming from her parted lips on my own, smelling of sweets and sugar.
“I should go,” Natalia whispers shakily.
“Right.” My voice is hoarse and low. Letting her go, I pull myself back and drop my hand from the door. “Will you let me know when you get home?”
She nods. “I’ll think about it.”
I huff a quiet laugh and undo the lock and latch of the door. “I’m walking you to your car then.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m walking you to your car,” I say, walking out first to make sure it’s safe. “Come on.”
“Rowan.” She sighs. “It’s fine—”
“Your car is right there, come on.” I wave my hand for her to come along and she finally does.
From her pocket, she pulls out her keys and I walk beside her with my hands in my pockets. I wonder what it’d be like to hold her hand when we walk together. How comforting and safe it would feel for me.
“This is me,” she says, and I pull open her door, letting her in first. “You left your restaurant unattended.”
I shrug. “It’s Willow Springs. It’s harmless.”
“Yet you are always worried about my saftey.”
“What can I say?” I smirk and hitch a shoulder. “My mother raised a gentleman.”
Natalia huffs, half smiling as she fastens her seatbelt. “I’m in my car now, you can go.”
I stand at her open door, wondering what kissing her goodnight would be like too. I spend too much time wondering. “Goodnight, Natalia.”
“Goodnight, Rowan,” she says, and I close her door just before I watch her drive away.