Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Fiona
“...and that’s how I ended up stranded in Budapest for twenty-four hours with two dozen first-time travellers.”
Everyone at the table laughs, making me realize Mila has finished telling her story…and that I’ve been zoned out for who knows how long. Again.
When we all returned to the table after dancing, I hoped the others would be ready to call it a night.
We’d been here for a couple of hours, and I’d enjoyed every second of our time together, but I wanted to be alone with Nathan.
Instead, Mila had suggested Van join us, which led to Liam insisting we get another round of drinks.
With everyone chatting and sipping fresh drinks, it only took a few minutes for my thoughts to wander.
Over the last few days, Mila and I have spent hours talking about business plans, making countless lists, and creating content for social media.
We’ve both tried to get in touch with Sanjay to no avail.
The higher-ups at On the Go aren’t taking our calls either, which is especially infuriating to me, considering I haven’t heard a word from anyone in the five weeks since my suspension started.
Mila thinks the next logical step is going to London and ‘getting shit done ourselves’.
That includes attempting to track down Sanjay, insisting on a meeting with our bosses at On the Go so we can quit in person, and getting our belongings from the house.
Her action plan makes sense; the sooner we quit, the sooner we can get the ball rolling on our own business, especially if we have to ride out the six-month non-compete clause.
And yet despite it making sense, I’ve been hesitating with the actual follow-through.
Mila has tossed around ideas for what to do after our business in London is finished, including returning to Honeywell to regroup.
Her other suggestion is that we take advantage of being overseas to do a bit of travelling.
The thing is, even if we do come back to Honeywell, the idea of leaving Nathan at all opens up a hollow pit in my stomach.
The more time I spend with him, the more I want to spend with him.
I crave his proximity, his scent, the secret smiles he gives me when we’re around other people, and the way he touches me when we’re alone.
And yet, my itchy feet are getting itchier by the day. I had hoped the urge would subside, but it hasn’t. As Mila and I have put together practice itineraries and lists of people to contact, I’ve been getting buzzed on fantasies of in-person research and face-to-face meetings.
“Everyone good to drive?” Liam asks.
Hope surges inside me, followed immediately by guilt. Nights like this are precious, and I shouldn’t be in a hurry for them to end.
“I live nearby, so I walked,” Van says.
“I’m good,” Nathan says. He and Liam both nursed one beer each earlier in the evening, then switched to pop when we returned after dancing.
As we all exchange goodbyes, Joss pulls Mila and me into a group hug. She lets out a giggle as she releases us and kisses each of our cheeks. The sound, paired with her grin and drooping eyelids, tells me she’s pleasantly tipsy.
“You’d make a great addition to Honeywell,” she says to Mila.
“And if you ever do decide to move here, you’ll have built-in friends.
At the very least, I hope you’ll visit often.
Both of you.” She looks at me as she says the last part.
She’s still gripping Mila and me by the shoulders, so I pull them back in for another hug.
Tears prickle my eyes, and I silently beg my body not to betray me now.
The middle of this small-town bar is not the place for a meltdown.
These warring emotions are exhausting. Wanting to go and yet wanting to stay.
Feeling eager and excited to start a new chapter of my life, and yet guilty and sad.
Meeting hundreds of new people every year has taught me not to get too attached.
It’s not always easy, especially on the longer tours when there’s more time to connect, but I’ve adopted a mentality that if someone is meant to be in my life, our paths will cross again.
I have friends and acquaintances all over the world; people I think of fondly, and would happily meet up with if the opportunity presented itself.
But here in Honeywell, I have something more, something deeper. Or at least I could.
“You okay?” Mila asks as we head out into the balmy night.
I nod, afraid to answer with words. Instead, I whisper, “Are you okay if I go home with Nathan after we drop you off?”
The only change in Mila’s expression is a slight tightening at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll be okay, but will you?”
I pull her to a stop. Nathan has already reached his truck, and is leaning against the open passenger side door, waiting for us. Our eyes meet, and a ghost of a smile flits across his face.
Mila makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. I jerk my head in her direction, catching her wry expression before she schools her face. My best friend clearly sees what I already know: I’m in too deep.
“Just…be careful.” she says with a sigh. “And I don’t only mean using a condom, although make sure you do that too.”
* * *
Nathan and I are silent as he lets us into his house.
He catches my hand after we remove our jackets and shoes, leaving the lights off as he leads me further inside.
Part of me expected him to take me straight upstairs, but I should have known that’s not Nathan’s style.
I often used to think he must consider conversation an element of foreplay.
He liked to talk first, make sure I was comfortable and at ease. Apparently, he still does.
He guides me into the living room, where he turns on a lamp, and asks if I want something to eat or drink. “I got Hawkins Cheezies,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I saw them at the store and…”
I can’t suppress the smile that tugs at my lips. “Maybe later? Could I get a glass of water for now?” I’m not thirsty, but hopefully in the time it takes him to get to the kitchen and back, I can convince my racing thoughts to shut the fuck up.
Nathan returns a minute later with two glasses of water. He hands the one with ice cubes in it to me. Of course he remembers I prefer my water ice cold.
“Enjoy it while you can,” he says as he sits on the far side of the couch, leaving a couple of feet of space between us.
I tilt my head in question, and he jerks his chin toward my glass.
“The ice. When Murph and I went to Ireland, I commented on the lack of ice, and he said you’d be hard-pressed to find ice cubes across Europe and the UK. It made me think of you.”
I laugh. “I’ve grown used to room temperature drinks over the years, but I’ll never turn down ice when it’s offered.” I raise my glass in a silent toast and take a sip.
Nathan clears his throat and shifts to face me. “I was surprised tonight when Mila said she could see herself living in Honeywell,” he says slowly. “What about you? Could you see yourself living here again?”
The question itself is casual, his tone even, and his expression neutral.
I can feel the weight of it, though. My answer is important.
I want to say yes. I wish the word would come easily, slip past my lips with confidence.
I wish I could tell him that nights like tonight make it easy to envision a life here: outings with him and our friends, family dinners at my mum’s place, meeting at Sweet Escapes for coffee and cake.
Endless hours spent together talking and laughing, hanging out in the treehouse, and driving around in his truck.
Dancing and kissing and feeling that contact high I get every time he touches me.
“Wait,” Nathan says, holding up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I know it’s not that simple for you.”
“For what it’s worth, I wish it were.”
“I do too.” With a soft sigh, he rises from the couch and crosses the room to stand in front of the fireplace.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“I don’t think you want to know.”
“I do. Always.”
There have been so many things I’ve wanted to say to him recently, especially since finding that old journal of Dad’s. It’s all a chaotic swirl, though; I can’t quite grasp it myself, so I have no idea how I’d put it into words to explain it to Nathan.
I’m afraid of making decisions from a place of fear or guilt, or based on what Dad would have done.
I can’t help feeling I should want a life like he had, should be content to settle down and let love be enough.
Let it ground me in all the best ways. I don’t want to hurt Nathan with my indecision.
He deserves someone who chooses him without question or hesitation.
He turns to face me, leaning one elbow on the mantle, and running his free hand roughly through his hair. “I’m thinking how difficult it is not to slip back into the anger and resentment I felt toward you for so long.”
I’m not exactly surprised by his admission. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. Or if you told me to get out and leave you alone until I get my shit together.”
He huffs out a mirthless laugh. “The thing is, Fi, I think you do have your shit together.” He comes back to the couch and drops down beside me.
“I’ve never known anyone else who’s as certain about what they want and has the courage and confidence to go for it.
Even when I didn’t understand it, there was always a part of me that respected it.
So many people have things they’re passionate about or want more than anything, but they let fear stop them.
I know you faced judgement and criticism from people in town, but you didn’t let any of that hinder you from pursuing your dreams. Your dad admired the hell out of you for it, and I do too. ”