He’s getting closer to the answers I wanted, but now I don’t know if I want to hear them anymore.
“Nate—” I try to stop him, but he keeps talking.
“You were still texting and calling every day. You’d record those ridiculous three-minute voicemails you used to leave all the time.” He rolls his eyes and I decide this isn’t the time to inform him that I still leave those voicemails. Ruby’s voicemail box is always full because of them. “You’d tell me about what shows you were watching and about the book you were reading. Those were fine, but then you’d complain about how your parents were driving you crazy. Or you’d talk about how you ran into someone from school that you hated and how you couldn’t wait to move to LA.”
“Oh fuck.” Realization finally dawns on me. Guilt that I didn’t expect to feel hits me like a freaking dump truck, which is fitting because boy oh boy do I feel like trash. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I—”
He cuts me off again.
“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know, and even if you did, you were allowed to complain about your parents. I’m pretty sure that’s your job as a teenager,” he says. “And looking back, I don’t think you could’ve done anything right. I was so embarrassed, my ego wouldn’t have let me tell you anyways. But also, everything my mom said penetrated deep. I knew you wanted to move to LA and I figured it was only a matter of time before you left me just like she did.”
And I did.
I close my eyes and fight back tears on the verge of falling. Not only did we lose out on so many years together, but in trying to protect ourselves, we confirmed everything we already feared. That we weren’t good enough or deserving . . . when in actuality, we were both.
I understand why he stopped talking to me, but I still have a couple of questions that I need answered.
“Why were you all of a sudden best friends with the football jocks? And why, out of all the people in our school, did you have to date Rachel?” The football guys I kind of understood. They were assholes, but they were funny. Plus, the quarterback’s parents were loaded and they were always taking him and his friends on vacations. But Rachel? She was a bitch and Nate hated her. She made my life a living hell in middle school and even as an adult, I can’t think of one redeeming quality about her.
When I saw them holding hands in school together for the first time, I almost threw up.
“Because I knew you hated them. I knew if you saw me with them, you wouldn’t ask questions I didn’t want to answer. You’d think I changed and you’d be pissed, but you’d stop trying to figure out what happened.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus, they were safe. They were too into themselves to notice if something was wrong with me, and I knew they weren’t going to up and leave me. They were happy living in Ohio and you resented it. If it makes you feel better, though, Rachel never stopped being awful and I was miserable when we dated.”
“That does make me feel a little better.” I try to smile, but I don’t do a great job.
Neither one of us says anything and a heavy silence settles around us.
Years of questions, years of anger, and after one conversation, it’s all gone. I’ve walked with this lingering fear not only that I could lose anyone at any time, but that it was only a matter of time before I pushed them away. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how heavily this has weighed on me. I see him with a new set of eyes and appreciate the man he’s become more than I could’ve ever imagined. All the feelings I’ve been suppressing for so long flood to the surface. I want to pull him into my arms and make up for all the years we lost . . . all night long.
After what feels like an eternity but is probably only a minute or two, I slice my fork through the piece of cake sitting next to a melted puddle of ice cream, and take a bite.
“It’s pretty good.” The tart lemon and cream cheese frosting is the perfect combination. “Try it.”
Instead of cutting his piece, he reaches across and cuts into mine. His eyes light up when he chews.
“I was afraid you were messing with me,” he says. “This is great. I’ll have to swing by and thank your mom. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
I put the fork down and twist my body so I’m facing him on the stool. I rest one hand on top of his leg and the other on his shoulder, unable to hold back from touching him any longer.
“That’s more than okay with me,” I say with total sincerity. “Maybe you could come over for dinner tomorrow? I think they’d really like it. I know I would.”
His shoulders fall, and when he smiles, I can feel it between my thighs. “You would?”
This time, I decide not to answer.
Not with words at least. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his mouth to mine. And with his lips pressed against mine, I realize that I don’t hate Ohio at all.
In fact, I think I like it here . . .
Maybe even love it.
Chapter 24
To say my mom was happy to have Nate sitting at her dining room table again is perhaps the understatement of the century.
For her, it was like the president （a good one）， the pope, and Oprah came to dinner.
Except better.
Because the president is married, the pope can’t marry, and Oprah won’t marry. With Nate, however? There’s a chance. And that small sliver of hope is all my mom needed to go from one dinner to whispering in my ear every chance she got about what a nice boy Nate is and how cute we look together. Something, it’s important to note, she did not do once when I was dating Peter.
But while I might give her a hard time about her constant meddling and her overboard love of Nate, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t loving being around him too. After we laid everything out in the open, it was like we were right back to being young again. Except this time Nate has his own house and we kiss.
Oh yeah . . .
And there’s also the sex. So. Much. Sex.
Let’s just say the first night was not a fluke. In fact, I’d venture to say it keeps getting better. If that’s even possible. I feel like I’ve been walking on sunshine for the last two weeks. Which is much better than what I’m doing right now, which feels like I’m literally walking on the surface of the sun.
“I don’t understand why you’re still running,” Ruby complains beneath the brim of the giant hat protecting her skin from the sun as we canvass the neighborhood. “Weren’t you only doing it to spite Nate? What’s the point now that you don’t hate each other?”
I can’t lie. After Nate and I made up, I did consider dropping out of the HOA race for a second. But then I started thinking about how fun it would be to force him to call me president and it reinvigorated me all over again. Plus—and I will deny this if asked—I’ve really enjoyed getting to know my neighbors and feeling like an important part of the community.
Ohio is doing weird things to me.
“You know how competitive I am. You don’t think I’m going to tap out because I let Nate tap in, do you? I’m not quitting this thing no matter what happens.” I take one of the flyers we made from Ashleigh. “Also, how are you still here? Don’t you have to go back to LA soon?”