12. Natalie #2
“It's not pressure. It's purpose.” His eyes meet mine across the counter. “My family is everything to me. I'd do anything for them. Anything.”
I take a bite of pancake, and it's surprisingly good. Fluffy and slightly sweet with a hint of vanilla. “These are delicious.”
“Don't sound so surprised.” He leans against the counter across from me, taking the weight off his bad leg. “Your turn. Tell me about Charlotte. About your life before you moved here.”
“There's not much to tell. I worked at Premier Medical Center, had a nice apartment in a good neighborhood, dated a man I thought I was going to marry.” I stab at my pancake with my fork. “Then I found out he was cheating on me and everything fell apart.”
Ethan goes completely still. “You were going to marry him?”
“We were engaged. Had a date set, a venue booked, a dress hanging in my closet.” I glance up, and his expression has changed. Hardened into something cold and sharp. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That's definitely not a nothing face.”
He sets down his coffee mug and crosses his arms over his bare chest. “I knew you had a boyfriend back in Charlotte. I didn't know you were engaged. That you were planning to spend your life with someone else.”
The jealousy in his voice is raw and unmistakable. Part of me wants to reassure him, but a bigger part is oddly pleased by his reaction. That he cares enough to be jealous.
“Does that bother you?”
“Yes.” He doesn't hesitate. “It bothers me that some asshole had you and threw it away. It bothers me that you loved him enough to say yes when he proposed. It bothers me that he got to touch you and hold you and wake up next to you for years while I didn't even know you existed.”
“Ethan.”
“I know I have no right to be jealous. We've been doing whatever this is for about twelve hours. But yeah, it fucking bothers me.”
I set down my plate and slide off the stool, walking around the counter to where he's standing. I wrap my arms around his waist and look up at his face.
“He didn't deserve me,” I say quietly. “I know that now. He was charming and successful and came from the right kind of family. My mother adored him. I thought that was enough. I thought what we had was love.”
“Did you love him?”
“I loved the idea of him. The future I thought we were building together. The life that looked perfect from the outside.” I press my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
“But when I walked in on him with another woman, the first thing I felt wasn't heartbreak.
It was relief. Like I'd been holding my breath for three years and could finally exhale.”
His arms come around me, holding me tight. “What happened? How did you catch him?”
“I came home early from work. I was sick, some kind of stomach bug, and all I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep for days.” The memory still makes my chest tight, even now.
“I walked into our apartment and heard noises from the bedroom.
I thought maybe he'd left the TV on. But when I opened the door...”
I trail off. Even months later, the image is seared into my brain. Brody on top of some blonde woman. The way they scrambled apart when they saw me standing in the doorway. The sheets tangled around their naked bodies. Her lipstick smeared across his neck.
“What did he say?”
“He said it didn't mean anything. That she was nobody, just a coworker who didn't matter. That I was the one he wanted to marry.” I laugh bitterly at the memory.
“Like that was supposed to make it better. Like I should be grateful he still wanted to go through with the wedding after fucking someone else in our bed.”
Ethan's arms tighten around me. “He's lucky I don't know where he lives.”
“The worst part was that he wasn't even remorseful. He was annoyed. Annoyed that I came home early and interrupted him. Annoyed that I was making a big deal out of nothing. He kept saying I was overreacting, that it was just sex, that men have needs, and it would never happen again.” I shake my head.
“I took off my engagement ring and threw it at his head. Then I packed a bag and walked out.”
“Good.”
“My mother didn't think so. She called me the next day, after Brody ran to her crying about how I'd abandoned him.
She wanted me to forgive him. Work things out.
Go to couples counseling. She said men stray sometimes, and that's just the reality of marriage.” I pull back so I can see Ethan's face.
“That's when I knew I had to leave Charlotte.
I couldn't stay in a city where everyone expected me to smile and pretend my fiancé hadn't humiliated me.”
“Your mom sounds like a piece of work.”
“She means well. She just has very specific ideas about how life should look, and a broken engagement doesn't fit the picture.” I move back to the counter and pick up my plate again.
“My dad was different. He never liked Brody, though he kept it to himself while we were together. When I told him I was moving to New York, he helped me research apartments and told me he was proud of me for choosing myself. We talk every Sunday.”
“He sounds like a good man.”
“The best.” I smile, thinking of our weekly calls.
“And then there's Eve. My best friend since we were six years old.
Our parents are friends, so we grew up together, did everything together.
She's the one who told me I wasn't crazy for leaving Brody.
She's also the one who told him to fuck off when he showed up at her bank demanding to know where I was.”
Ethan's eyebrows rise. “He went to her workplace?”
“She's a teller at First National. He walked right up to her window like he was making a deposit and started interrogating her about my location.” I can't help but smile at the memory of Eve recounting the story.
“She told him she had no idea where I was and even if she did, she wouldn't tell him. Then she asked if he wanted to open a savings account or if he was done wasting her time.”
“I like her already.”
“You'd love her. She's fierce and loyal, and she doesn't take shit from anyone.” I sigh. “She thinks if I ignore Brody long enough, he'll get bored and move on to someone else. I hope she's right.”
As if on cue, my phone rings.
I glance at the screen on the counter, and my stomach drops.
Unknown number.
Ethan sees it too. His jaw tightens. “Don't answer it.”
But some masochistic part of me wants to hear what Brody has to say. I pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Nat.” His voice slides through the speaker like oil. “Don't hang up. Please. I just want to talk. Five minutes, that's all I'm asking. You owe me that much.”
“I don't owe you anything.”
“Baby, please. I made a mistake. One mistake. We can work through this if you just give me a chance to explain.”
“Don't call me baby.” I grip the phone tighter. “And stop calling me. We're done, Brody. We've been done for months.”
“You don't mean that. You're just angry, and you have every right to be, but we can fix this. Come back to Charlotte and we can—”
I disconnect the call and toss the phone onto the counter like it's contaminated.
Ethan is rigid beside me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “That was him?”
“Yes.”
“Give me his number. I'll make sure he never calls you again.”
“No.” I put my hand on his arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “I can handle this. He's pathetic and desperate, but he's not dangerous. If I keep ignoring him, he'll eventually give up and find someone else to harass.”
“And if he doesn't?”
“Then I'll deal with it. Get a restraining order if I have to.” I meet his eyes. “But this is my fight, Ethan. Not yours.”
He looks like he wants to argue. His jaw is tight, and his body is vibrating with barely contained anger. I can practically see him imagining all the ways he'd like to hurt Brody. But after a long moment, he forces himself to relax.
“If he shows up here,” he says slowly, “you tell me. Immediately. You don't try to handle it yourself.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, Natalie.”
“I promise.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard, like he's trying to erase every memory of Brody from my mind and body. By the time he lets me go, I'm breathless and dizzy, and wondering how I’ve gone so long without mornings like this.
“Come on,” he says, pulling me around the other side of the counter. “Let’s get some food in you.”
We reheat the pancakes and eat them standing at the counter, trading lazy kisses between bites.
“So,” he says finally, setting down his empty plate. “What are we doing here, Natalie? What is this?”
I know what he's asking. This isn't just sex. “I don't know. But I don’t want it to end.”
He smiles, and it transforms his whole face. Hard to believe that he’s the same grumpy and moody man I first met. “Me neither. So we’ll figure it out.”
Still, worry fills my head. Nothing comes without a cost, and I’m scared of what the cost will be.