Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Fiona
I’m so caught up in pacing around the treehouse, I don’t hear Nathan approaching until the door swings open. I nearly trip over my own feet at the sight of him filling the doorway. He lingers there for a moment, giving me the impression he’s debating whether to come inside or leave without a word.
Finally, he steps over the threshold and closes the door.
I can see him more clearly now; he looks as tired as he did yesterday when I ran into him at the café.
His hair is dishevelled, and his golden brown stubble is thicker.
There are wood shavings and sawdust on his jeans and plaid shirt, which tells me he’s been in his woodshop.
He told me once that woodworking is his form of meditation; when he’s working with his hands, the whole world quiets and narrows down to whatever he’s creating.
I want to eradicate the distance between us, to dive into his arms and breathe in his cedar and peppermint scent.
I want to fuse my mouth to his and kiss him as if my life depends on it.
But his closed-off vibes—hands jammed in his pockets, the way he’s shifting from foot to foot but not moving any closer to me—has me staying where I am.
“Thanks for coming,” I say.
“Sure. Sorry I’ve been…” He pulls one hand from his pocket and waves it around in front of him, then runs it roughly through his hair.
“Avoiding me?”
He stares steadily at me for a long moment before giving a jerky nod. “Guess there’s no use denying it. I thought putting some space between us before you leave would make things easier. Then I realized I need to be an adult about it and talk to you.”
I latch onto one main part of what he said. “Before I leave?”
He’s talked about me leaving before, even asked when I was going, but something about the way he said it just now hits differently.
His sigh sounds as weary as he looks. “It’s okay, Fiona. I heard you on the phone with Mila the night we…the other night.”
“Oh. Right.” I want to ask why he didn’t say anything that night, but then I remember him asking me to stay with him for a bit longer, and feeling certain the words had a deeper meaning.
“It’s not what you think, though. I’m not taking off for the hell of it or because I’m tired of being here.
Mila and I have been dealing with some stuff at On the Go, and we’re going to London to resign and pack up our stuff.
Dad left us both money, and we’re planning to start our own travel business. ”
A myriad of emotions race over Nathan’s face. The shock and disappointment aren’t exactly a surprise, but the pride that settles on his face is. “Wow, Fi, that’s incredible. Good for you.”
I smile and try to thank him, but the words stick in my throat. My mind keeps going back to that flash of disappointment.
We both speak at the same time:
“I guess it’s time for us to end this—”
“I think we should stick with the pause—wait, what?” I ask, realizing what Nathan said.
“We need to end whatever this is between us,” he says.
“It’s been…fun…” It seems like a struggle for him to get the word out, as if he’s saying it under duress.
“But we need to hit the stop button permanently. No more pauses. We always knew your time here was temporary. This isn’t your real life, Fiona. It was a layover.”
The travel-related joke would be funny under different circumstances. Instead, it feels like a punch to the gut, especially when paired with the sad tilt to Nathan’s lips.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say. “Temporary, I mean. When I come back to Honeywell, we could see where this could go. I could create a base here and still travel, just like my dad did.”
The skin around Nathan’s eyes tightens. “Would you be content with that? Are you ready to stop travelling full-time?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but I can’t. I silently curse myself as tears of frustration prickle my eyes.
“Okay, let me ask you something else,” Nathan says.
My mind goes to my dream from last night, of me telling him to ask me to stay. “Of course. Anything.”
“If Murph had left you the cottage, would you have lived there?”
My eyebrows spring up. That wasn’t at all what I expected him to ask. “Uhh, maybe? Part-time at least. For years, it’s been…comforting, I guess, knowing it’s there anytime I wanted it, whether Dad was there or not. If he’d given it to me, that’s probably where I’d head once I leave London.”
I’ve tried not to let thoughts of the cottage creep in too much.
Thinking about it creates a deep, hollow ache inside.
Every once in a while, though, usually when I’m tired and my guard is down, visions of a life there fill my mind.
Tending Dad’s flower gardens and planting the vegetable garden he always wanted but never planted since he wasn’t there enough.
Making a habit of slow Sundays where I visit the farmers market, followed by a long walk and lunch in my favourite pub.
Expanding my cooking and baking repertoire in the cottage’s sweet little kitchen with its ancient appliances.
And in those fantasies, I’m not alone. Nathan is there, always. Hands dirty from gardening, carefully inspecting produce at the farmers market, sipping Guinness at the pub, clothes and hair dusted with flour. Using any excuse to touch me. Love shining from his eyes as he smiles at me.
“Then you should have it,” Nathan says. “It always should have been yours. I don’t know what Murph was thinking.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No, Nathan. No. Dad had his reasons for leaving it to you, and we need to trust that. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t hurt and confused, but Dad never did anything without a good reason.”
His expression reveals the secret thoughts that feel like a betrayal to say aloud: there is no good reason.
Dad loved Nathan like a son, I get that, but the cottage should have been mine, or at least Mum’s.
We’re the ones who considered it a second home, who visited regularly, who would have actually used it. It’s going to sit mostly empty now.
“I’m planning to come back to Honeywell in a few weeks,” I repeat. “It’s going to take Mila and me some time to get a business plan together and get things up and running. We’ll need to hire people, including a business manager.”
Nathan bobs his head. “You said yourself you have contacts all over the world, right? I’m sure you’ll find the perfect person.”
“I think I already know the perfect person.”
He cocks his head to the side, a question in his eyes.
It takes him several seconds to clue in, and then he points to himself, laughing mirthlessly.
“Me? I’m not exactly in the market for a new job, Fiona.
I already run my own business, in case you forgot.
Plus, I know nothing about the travel industry. ”
“I know, I just thought…forget it, it was stupid.”
I see the contrition in his eyes a second before he ducks his head. He glances over his shoulder at the door, as if he’s considering bolting.
When he turns back, he looks resolved. “When are you leaving?”
“We fly out on the fourth.”
“I know avoiding you the last few days was shitty of me, but I think it might be best if we keep our distance until you go. I’ve enjoyed our time together, and I think we can eventually be in each other’s lives again, but for now…
” The sigh he releases is so heavy it makes his shoulders slump.
“For now, everything is so jumbled. Murph’s death, you being home, business stuff… I just need some time.”
I press my trembling lips together, begging my body to cooperate and not have a meltdown. That can come later, away from Nathan. The last thing I want to do is make him feel guilty. He hasn’t done anything wrong. “We’ll be friends again eventually, right?”
He lets out another mirthless laugh. “You and I were never meant to be friends, Fi.”
I swallow a gasp. The words feel like a physical blow.
Nathan and I were always friends…until we weren’t.
Even when we fell in love and became a couple, Nathan was still my best friend.
He was the person I shared everything with, the first one I wanted to tell when something happened, the one I turned to.
To hear him say we’re not meant to be friends…
He groans and takes a step forward, reaching out as if to touch me, but stopping before he makes contact.
“That came out wrong. Saying we’re just friends is a massive oversimplification.
When you left, it was torture not having you in my life.
After my mom died, there was a part of me that wanted to leave Honeywell.
I thought it would be easier. My whole blood family was gone, and as much as I love your parents and Liam and Thea, I wasn’t sure they were enough reason to stay, especially when I felt like I was being haunted by memories of everything I’d lost.
“Then Rex was born, and suddenly I had a good reason to stay. Those roots I’d been considering unearthing buried themselves deeper instead.
I never thought about leaving again, never regretted my decision to stay.
I built a life here that I’m content with and proud of.
Having you back in my life these last few weeks has shown me what I’ve been missing, but…
we're so much more than just friends. We always have been. My soul knows your soul, Fiona. We’re linked by our past and the people we both love. ”
I stifle the sob that attempts to rip itself from my throat. Nathan takes another step forward at the same moment I move toward him. There’s only a foot or so of space between us now.
“If that’s the case, doesn’t that mean we should be together?
” I ask. “I love you, Nathan, and I know you love me too. Can’t that be enough for now, and we’ll work out everything else as we go?
I understand why we couldn’t do that when I first left—we were so young and had so many things to figure out—but we’re adults now.
We have years of experience and wisdom under our belts, and the things we still need to figure out, we can figure out together.
I’ll come back or you could come with me. In fact, why don’t you come with me?”
He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat.
“I wish I could throw caution to the wind and say yes, Fiona, I really do. But it’s not that simple.
You say we can figure things out together, but I think you need to figure some things out on your own first. I don’t want to hold onto the hope that we can build a life together only for you to leave again.
I never want you to feel tied down, or to stay with me out of some misguided sense of obligation. ”
I want to argue that it wouldn’t be like that, but I don’t think anything I say right now would change his mind.
I broke Nathan’s heart when I left all those years ago.
Even though I experienced his animosity firsthand over the years when I came home to visit, I wasn’t here to witness him putting his life back together.
I missed him fiercely, but I had university to focus on, and my travels around Scotland and beyond.
I was living the life I’d always dreamed of, minus being with Nathan, while he would have encountered a lifetime of memories and reminders around every corner here in Honeywell.
I imagine the anguish painted across his face mirrors my own.
My tone is defeated when I say, “Okay.” My body is suddenly heavy with exhaustion.
I wish I could collapse in the beanbag chair and sleep until it’s time for Mila and me to leave.
“I’ll make myself scarce over the next few days so we don’t have to see each other, and so you won’t have to avoid seeing Mum. ”
He looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his lip and nods. There are likely a million things he wants to say but can’t find the words for. That’s how I feel, anyway.
I expect him to turn and leave, but instead, he wordlessly holds out his arms. Without hesitation, I step into them and wrap my arms around him.
We cling to each other, my hands fisting in his shirt while his press into my back, holding me tightly against his body.
His racing heart knocks against mine. Something in the back of my mind whispers that our hearts are communicating, telling each other everything we can’t say out loud.
We part in increments, our grips loosening, then our hands sliding so we’re holding each other’s arms. Nathan’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, while my own tears fall freely.
He cups my face with one hand, swiping his thumbs gently over my cheeks.
His gaze dips to my mouth, and his lips lift in the barest hint of a smile.
“One more for the road?” he whispers, echoing my words from the night of his birthday. They feel so different now. They feel like a goodbye.
I grip his shoulders and lift up on my toes to press my mouth to his.
I wish I had the restraint to keep the kiss short and sweet, but if this really is goodbye, I want to make it count.
Nathan must have the same idea because his tongue sweeps over my lips, and I part them to let our tongues tangle in a slow, familiar dance.
I try to commit this moment to memory: the feel of Nathan’s soft hair as I weave my fingers into the tresses; the scent of cedar lingering on his clothes; the hint of peppermint on his tongue.
I can taste salt from our tears, but I’ll try not to remember that when I conjure up this memory in the weeks and months to come.
Nathan pulls away first, releasing his grip on me immediately and taking a few steps back.
I watch dazedly as he turns and strides toward the door.
He pauses briefly, meeting my eyes just long enough to give me a single nod.
I return the gesture, and then he’s gone, his hurried footsteps echoing in my ears as he departs.
That empty feeling that’s grown familiar since Dad’s death opens wider, threatening to swallow me whole. I’m about to make one of my dreams come true, but it feels like a hollow victory without the man I love by my side.