Chapter 17
Rory
My breath catches when he says those words. My heart pounds in my chest so loud I’m sure he can hear it from where he sits across the table from me.
Tell me the truth. All of it.
I knew this moment would come, didn’t I? The second I decided to come up here, to see Nate again, it was obvious that we’d have to revisit all of those painful memories.
I know he deserves an explanation, but I’m not sure he’ll really understand. I had my reasons. Even though it hurt at the time, it was the best thing for both of us.
But then, why does it hurt so much to think about it?
I lift a new slice of pizza to my mouth and chew slowly to give me a minute to think.
Nate crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze never leaving my face. A muscle in his jaw tics. He’s serious. There’s no dancing around this one, and I know I owe him more than an explanation.
I owe him the truth.
But I’m not sure exactly how to say it all. As I think back on the end of our relationship, a memory swims into my consciousness. The day in May, a month before our graduation, when I first realized I could be holding Nate back.
I was in the kitchen in my parents’ house—my house, too, at the time—doing dishes after dinner. My parents were watching some TV show in the living room the way they always did after dinner, but their conversation filtered from the living room to my spot in front of the sink, the words clear.
“Oh, Sixteen Candles is on cable. I love a good high school romance,” my mom says.
Molly Ringwald’s voice fills the space between the two rooms.
I smile as they start to bicker over what to watch. My mother is a die-hard romantic and only likes to watch movies where the two main characters kiss at least once. Preferably several times. And there has to be a happily ever after at the end, or why bother?
Dad, on the other hand, would rather watch movies where they shoot at one another. Or barring that option, Jeopardy, which is also my mom’s second choice, and what they inevitably settle on every single night.
Despite their differences, it just works. They’re the perfect couple. They’ve been married for twenty-six years now and are more in love than ever.
All I can hope is that I’m lucky enough to end up with the kind of relationship they have.
“High school romance is overrated,” my dad grumbles.
I can hear the eye roll from here as I slide another plate into the dishwasher.
“Of course you’d think so. You were dating that cheerleader—what was her name? If you’d been dating me back then, you’d feel differently.”
I smile at my mom’s teasing.
The laughter seems to fade from my dad’s voice as he says something I don’t quite catch.
Then he says, “Breaking up with my high school girlfriend was the best thing I ever did. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been single when I met you that first week of class. We would never have had a chance.”
I freeze as I process his words. My mother says something in reply, but I don’t hear it over the rushing sound in my ears.
I take another bite of pizza, stalling as I try to figure out how to put it into words. I chew slowly, savoring the mozzarella and the tomato sauce that’s better than any I’ve tried in Denver, but the flavor falls flat as I wonder how to say everything I need to.
Is Nate going to understand if I tell him? I thought I was making the right choice back then. I still think I did, setting him free to find the right person, to keep him from getting trapped by the small town that I wanted to return to, but it didn’t turn out the way I planned.
I figured it was just a matter of time before Nate met the love of his life once I gave him his freedom. Even if he didn’t find the right person in college, he wouldn’t feel like he had to come back to HiLo just to follow my dreams. He could follow his own dreams, find happiness.
And that’s all I wanted for him. Happiness, even if it wasn’t with me.
“What was it, Rory?” Nate asks gently.
I put the slice down on the plate in front of me and keep my gaze fixed on it. “I thought it was for the best. For both of us, but mostly for you.”
Nate waits without saying anything, his blue eyes fixed on me.
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, all the words I should have said over the years stuck there. I consider taking another bite, stalling for another few seconds, but I’m not sure I’d be able to get anything else down at this point.
Finally, I blow out a long breath. “I… It had to do with my parents,” I say, trying to figure out how to explain the way my adolescent brain worked a decade ago.
“My dad had a girlfriend back in high school. He always used to talk about how he was so glad he was single when he met my mom because he knew she was the one and all of that. And one day…”
I chew on my lip.
“One day, what?” Nate reaches one large hand out to cover mine.
And sitting here in Nate’s kitchen, two dogs resting nearby, cooling pizza on our plates with his hand covering mine…
Suddenly, this seems like the safest, warmest place I’ve ever been.
Safe enough for me to tell him the truth, even if he thinks I’m an idiot for what I did back then.
Even if it changes everything between us all over again.
“He said something to my mom. I don’t think he knew I was listening, but it wasn’t like it was a secret.
He just said that breaking up with his high school girlfriend was the best thing he ever did, that starting college single was what led him to the love of his life.
That he and my mom wouldn’t have had a chance if he’d still been dating that cheerleader. ”
I wait for Nate to laugh, to scoff at my story, to tell me how silly I was back then. But he just tilts his head to the side as though he’s thinking. His thumb rubs back and forth over my hand, sending tingles shooting up my arm.
“That makes sense,” he finally says. He picks up his pizza crust and takes a bite. “Do you want any more before I do the dishes?”
I’m thrown by the change of topic and by his lack of reaction. I can’t tell if he’s angry, if he thinks what I did was stupid, any of it.
“No thanks,” I manage.
How can I eat any more pizza right now?
Nate stands from the table and carries his plate to the sink while I chew on the last bite of mine.
I’m not sure where this leaves us. I pictured this big moment when I told him, but it’s almost anticlimactic.
It’s like he’s just taking it in stride.
Like he wanted to know, but whatever I said would have been okay. That he’d still be here regardless.
Swallowing my bite, I pick up my plate as I stand from the table. Nate is at the kitchen sink, looking sexy as hell with his broad back to me.
As I get closer, he turns to me, reaching a hand out for the plate, but I shake my head.
“I can do it.” I reach for the soap.
Nate steps to the side, just enough that I can get to the sink, but he’s still so close that to wash my plate I need to stand right next to him, our bodies almost touching. My elbow brushes against his side when I reach for the scrubber.
Nate shifts, and suddenly he’s behind me, pinning me between the counter and his hard muscles. The heat of his body covers mine. My breath catches in my throat, and I force myself to pull in a full breath.
“Thank you for telling me,” Nate says, his voice a rumble in my ear as his lips skim my temple. His five-o’clock shadow brushes against my cheek, the pinpricks of his whiskers scraping along my skin.
My heart beats faster at how close he is.
“I…um…you’re welcome,” I stammer.
I’m not sure what else to say, so I scrub at my plate, the soapsuds rising in little circles in my wake. Then I scrub more because it’s all I can do. I can’t turn around. I can’t move away.
All I can do is stand here, falling further under Nate’s spell.
I reach for the water to rinse. As my hand closes on the handle, Nate’s hand covers mine again and stays there as we turn the water on together.
“I understand why you thought you had to do that, Rory,” he says, his breath tickling my ear.
His other hand joins mine. It’s all I can do to keep from dropping the plate into the sink as his hands caress mine. It’s like the pottery scene from Ghost, both of us moving in unison, the soap making our skin slick.
My breath is shallow. My palms prickle like they’re sweating, but beneath the soapy water, it’s impossible to tell. Washing dishes isn’t something I’ve ever thought of as erotic, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wash a dish again without thinking of this moment.
“Nate, what are you—” I shift my hips backward, my words cut off with a gasp when my backside presses against his groin, and his erection digs into my flesh.
Nate gently eases the plate out of my hands and turns the water off. He steps back just enough to let me turn to face him.
His eyes are dark with lust when he searches my face, and he brings one soapy hand up to run a finger along my jawline. “I get it, Rory. I do. I wish you’d told me why all those years ago.”
My breath hitches. “Nate, I—”
He presses his thumb against my lower lip, his other fingers caressing my jaw. “I know.” He moves his hand down to grip my chin between his finger and thumb and tilts my face up toward his. “Your parents…”
My lips part slightly as I fist my wet hands in his T-shirt. The dishes are forgotten, the leftover pizza abandoned on the counter.
Nate slides his free hand to rest on the small of my back and pulls me closer to him.
“They’re not us, Rory,” he says softly, his eyes darkening as he holds my gaze. “I found what I needed back in high school. I found you.”