CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO #2
“Business planning? Does he offer that service too? I have been using him to fix my stove, pasta machines, and dishwashers. The whole restaurant is running more smoothly since he came to town. Didn’t charge me a dime, so when he ran this idea by me, I was thrilled to have a way to pay him back.
” She bends down and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You kids enjoy, just leave your plates when you’re done, ill grab them when we close up tonight. ”
“You’re the best, Louisa.” Nick gives her his real smile as she heads back to the restaurant.
It’s just us, soaking in the serene feeling emanating from the twinkling lights at dusk, and the slow flowing river beside us.
“Nick?” He looks up to me expectantly, “How many more townspeople have you coerced in order to pull off this elaborate date?”
“There’s just one more, but that one was simple, he just gave me a key.”
“If it is Carlos from the Cupcake shop, then you have seriously outdone yourself.”
“That is for me to know, and for you to find out.”
“When do you have time for all these projects?” Seriously, the man must not sleep.
“It turns out that I have a lot of free time on my hands when I am not pursuing more personal endeavors. I really wanted to know this town better, and the people here opened up about their needs pretty easily. It’s been fun to imagine settling in a place like this one day and being a part of a community. ”
“So this isn’t just how you get women to sleep with you? The elaborate dates?”
“Are you asking if I regularly befriend all the shop owners in the towns that I am assigned in, get to know them so I can help solve their problems, then use those favors to assist in planning dates for women that I want to sleep with?” He leans toward me and squints like he is searching for something in my face.
“Yes.” Ok, that would be a little unhinged.
“No, this is a first. Don’t get me wrong, I like dating, I like dating a lot.
But this is the first time that I have made an effort to impress someone like this, or to connect with a community like this.
I couldn’t stand the idea of our first real date being forgettable.
” He sips his wine casually and never stops watching me.
“It’s working, I will never forget this.
” We catch eyes and share a moment of understanding.
My nerves react to the tenderness of the moment.
“What do you do then? What is the move to get women to sleep with you?” He nearly chokes on his pasta but laughs and recovers.
Why do I ask these questions when I am uncomfortable?
“Um… you really want to know?” Do I?
“Yes, I really want to know.”
“I just ask them.”
“You just ask them? And they say yes?”
“I mean, look at me.” He replies with a devilish grin while I give him a serious eye roll.
“But seriously, I would take women to dinner or drinks or some type of date, but I am a straightforward person. I knew I just wanted something fleeting, and could only offer that. I was honest, I don’t have interest in games or hurting someone else.
I made sure that I was clear about my intentions.
Kept it transparent, as you should realize I prefer.
” He looks at me like he’s waiting for the judgment, for disappointment, but those feelings don’t come.
“You like that word, transparent. That seems healthy.” I say instead, and I mean it. “I think if relationships, no matter how short, are honest, then who is to judge how they play out?” He seems to lose some tension in his shoulders at my response. I guess it was his turn to feel a little nervous.
“I hope knowing that about me gives you confidence that I won’t be hiding my feelings for you either.”
“It does, I think.”
“Can I ask you a question now?” I get tense. I’m sure he senses it, but I can make an educated guess on where the direction of the conversation is going, and I am desperately out of practice when it comes to sharing my relationship history with another man.
“Yes. Only fair.”
“How often do you go on dates?” He asks between bites. Yeah, that’s where I thought it was going.
“I…don’t.” He slowly puts down his fork and looks at me. My heart racing with the vulnerability I will inevitability now face with this admission.
“You don’t? Explain please.”
“I don’t. It’s difficult in a small town when you know everyone already, either through work or some circumstance growing up, so I just don’t.” His blue eyes are trained on mine, like he can read my inner monologue.
“People in small towns find love Marcy, or at least a date. Want to tell me the real reason?” He waits for me to respond again. He’s always patient, never rushing me to find my voice or settle my nerves.
“The real reason.” I try and buy time, but he has been honest with me, and I know it’s only fair that I do the same.
I take a deep breath. “The real reason is that I am terrified, which probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to someone who has dated a lot.
I have had one boyfriend, in graduate school, who I thought was the love of my life.
I wanted a future with him, I wanted him to be my person.
I gave him my whole heart. My mom had just died, and I was still dealing with the grief, as well as the complications from that relationship to begin with.
” He doesn’t interrupt, he watches me start to twirl my rings and takes my hand in his.
“We talked about getting married, talked about family, all the things that I never had and wanted so desperately.”
I keep looking out at the river while I explain, but Nick keeps his eyes on me and hand with mine. His other hand is turning white from the grip on the table, however.
“What did he do, Marcy?” His tone low and sweet.
“Well after a year and a half of dating, I walked in on him fucking my roommate on our kitchen table. They had been having an affair for months, and I had no clue. Even looking back now, I can’t identify any signs.
” He looks at me like he can feel my heartbreak, as I’m sure it’s still written all over my face.
All these years later, and the humiliation of explaining this situation is almost too much to bear.
The pity is irritating. “That’s the last and only chance I took at finding love.
He is the only person I ever had sex with, the only proper dates I ever went on, my only experience with what I thought was love, and I was obliterated after. Completely.”
“What happened?” I hear him ask quietly.
“They dated for two years, got engaged, and got married.” He looks at me like I just made that part up.
“And I moved back home to fall to pieces. Stan, Gary, and Annie picked me back up and put me together. I didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, barely finished school.
” I let silence dangle between us, knowing that this could be the point he decides I am too much.
He doesn’t flinch though, doesn’t let go, he just is.
Present with me in my discomfort, without judgment.
“It was bad, and I couldn’t bring myself to risk that level of hurt again.
” I pause to take some deep breaths, afraid to lay out the rest of my truth that I worry will change the way he sees me, the way he interacts with me, the trust he has in my capabilities.
If I don’t share more though, then I will have never given us a real chance.
As always, Nick just watches me think, not pushing, just allowing me time, drawing small circles in my palm with his fingers and playing with my rings. “I’m sorry for the silence, I want to share more with you, but it is something I have never really had to explain…well except to my therapist.”
“Marcy, if you want to share something with me, I want to hear it. I want to know everything about you, but I don’t need to know everything tonight.”
“I know, but I will never be more ready to tell you than I am now.” The ambience of the crisp air, the sweet music, the twinkling lights, and the tranquil lapping of the river flowing a few feet from us, are all contributing to my ability to still and express myself.
“Okay, take your time.” His energy so calm and open.
“When I say that I was falling apart, I need you to know that it isn’t an exaggeration.
I had anxiety from the years of uncertainty living with my mother.
The neglect and the emotional toll of never knowing if she would survive a nap really did a number on me.
So, when that break-up happened in that manner, I wasn’t at all prepared, and I broke.
We are talking panic attacks, insomnia, zero appetite, constant racing thoughts, you name the manifestation of anxiety, and I had it.
Not to mention, the depression that then followed because of how much I was struggling to participate in society.
” Nick stays focused on my face, his features soft.
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to live after that break-up, let alone try to plan for a future with someone else.
The fear of ever returning to the depths of that darkness is more than I want to put on your shoulders, but it is the reality of my baggage.
You should know that’s how dark things have been for me before. ”
He says nothing, he just looks at me and contemplates.
He doesn’t run, so that seems like a positive.
He doesn’t even drop my hand. “I’m sorry if this changes things, if this scares you away from getting to know me, but I would understand it.
I can safely say you are the only person I have been this vulnerable with, outside of Annie, Gary and Stan. ”
“So, these rings?” The ones he is still spinning. “They help you relax or focus or something?”
“Yes.”
“Are there other things that help you stay stable?” He asks without judgment in his tone, just curiosity.
“Yes, I go to therapy on and off as I need to. I take medications, I do online support groups when I need those too. I exercise, I sleep more when I am able, and I know to pay attention to the cues my body gives me. My apartment is my safe space for this reason, it’s a space that helps me feel grounded.
” His blue eyes haven’t left mine, but I am dying for him to give me any indication of how he is feeling about the dump of information I have just bestowed up on him.
Finally, he asks, “What changed?” Tenderness in his voice helping me push through my nerves.
“Which part?”
“What changed to make you feel like you could take a chance on some romance in your life?” Well shit, and I thought I wouldn’t have to get more vulnerable. Why stop now?
“Transparency?” Stealing his word from him.
“Please, don’t stop now.”
“Okay, well…” Why does it feel like a bigger risk to tell someone you like them than it does to tell them you weren’t sure you wanted to be alive?
“…For the first time in six years, someone came into my life who seemed worth risking my sanity for again. Your encouragement of me, understanding of my work and passions, the way you look at me, how easy it is to talk to you.” Everything about him continues to soften, his touches and glances so warm that I could melt right here and be thankful for it.
“You didn’t mention seeing me shirtless.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, which makes me laugh.
“Oh yes, sorry, I saw you shirtless.” I say through my giggle.
“Phew, okay, go on.” He encourages while he keeps drawing little circles on my palm with his thumb.
“I am stronger now, I grew up a lot, attended a lot of therapy, learned to care for myself so that I never find my way to that place again. The way I feel when I am around you, I realize that the reward of being with you is worth the risk. The risk is also not as steep as it once was.” He has that smile on that goes from ear to ear.
“I’m honored you will take a chance with me. You won’t regret it, Marcy.”
“I know. And I’m sorry if I just made things too serious or too heavy.” Unsure of how to proceed and nerves firing, I start to speak again but he interrupts.
“No, don’t do that. You never need to apologize to me for what makes you, you. You are exquisite, and assuming you will let me keep spending time with you, I want to be included in that inner circle of yours. Those few that get the real you.”
I smile at him, the relief of sharing this part of myself with someone after years of limitations is an unfathomable release. I suddenly feel a buoyancy that I have ever felt before.
“Seems like we are both trying something new with each other,” he acknowledges, still holding my hand. “Then he pauses and looks up abruptly. “Did you say six years?”
I flush, “Yes.”
“So yesterday, in my office, that was the first time in six years…” he trails off.
“Yes, that was the first time in six years that I kissed someone else. The first time someone has made me…well, ya know, in that long.” I’m heating in both embarrassment and the memories of yesterday afternoon flooding back.
Secretly, I am relieved at the change in subject, but this is a whole other minefield.
“You were so…ready.” Now I can tell he’s reliving it too, his dirty thoughts practically a holograph on our table.
I am suddenly hyper aware of my nipples as I watch his stare darken and his jaw clench ever so subtly.
I am so sick of my own nerves, so sick of the “what ifs” that have plagued me, and it feels like my brain, heart, and body are finally in alignment when it comes to the temptation that has been Nick Anderson.
“Yes, I was.” My eyes locked on his.
“We should get dessert…now.” I don’t argue, even if I have only eaten a few bites of dinner. I have an entirely different type of appetite now.