“I know.”
Not wanting to sound desperate, I pretended not to notice that she hadn’t reciprocated my feeling. “Would you like me to pick you up in the morning so we could go get your car?”
“No,” she answered. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll have someone from work take care of it. It’s out of your way, and there’s another deputy who lives just down the street. It’s not a big deal.”
Using her key, she unlocked the door, pushing it open a crack.
“I know you’re working this weekend, but maybe we could get dinner tomorrow?”
She seemed to search the quiet, leafy street before coming back to me. “I don’t think I can make it. After tonight, I’ll probably just stay in.”
“All right,” I said, wanting to know the reason, but knowing enough not to ask. “No worries. We’ll try for next week, okay?”
Her hand moved to the chain around her neck, which I knew to be a nervous response. When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.
“I know you love me, Trevor, but do you care about me, too? I mean, really and truly care about me?”
“Of course I care about you.”
“Then if I asked you to do something, even if it was something that you didn’t want to do, would you do it? If it was the most important thing in the world to me?”
I could see the naked plea in her expression. “Yes.”
“Then, because you love me, and because you care for me, I want you to do something for me. I want you to promise me that you’ll do it.”
“Sure, okay,” I answered, tension rising in me like floodwaters. “Anything,” I said. “I promise.”
She smiled, sorrowful, before leaning toward me. We kissed a second time, her body tight against me. I felt her shoulders shudder and heard her fight to steady her breath before she finally pulled back. Her eyes were moist as she reached up, touching the scar on my face.
“We need to stop,” she said. “I need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“This. You and me. All of it. We need to stop.”
My stomach did a flip. “What are you saying?”
She swiped at a tear, her eyes never leaving my own. It took a long time for her to get the words out.
“Please never, ever try to contact me again.”
Shock left me unable to speak, but she seemed to have expected it. With a sad smile, she stepped through the opening, closing the door behind her, leaving me wondering how my world had just come crashing down around me.
Chapter 13
Friday was spent in a daze, the weekend much the same. Though I forced myself to work out, I couldn’t manage much more. My stomach was in knots, the idea of food nausea-inducing, and while part of me longed to drink to oblivion, I was careful not to touch so much as a single beer. I didn’t study or clean the house or do laundry; instead, I took long walks in the afternoons, rehashing every moment that Natalie and I had spent together, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Where I’d gone wrong.
All signs pointed to the Other Guy, but I still couldn’t fully accept that. Less than a week had passed since we’d spent that unforgettable day and night together; even if she’d decided to rekindle that other relationship instead of making a go of it with me, why hadn’t she said anything? Why the flat request never to contact her again? Was this some kind of game to her? While I granted that she played things close to the vest, she didn’t strike me as inherently manipulative. Part of me was certain that Natalie would come around. She’d call and blame her words on the fact that she’d been drinking; she’d admit that she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She’d apologize and we’d talk about what was really going on. We’d work things out, and sooner rather than later, everything would go back to normal.
I carried my phone with me wherever I went, but my phone remained silent. Nor did I attempt to contact her. She’d asked me not to and I honored my promise, even as it simultaneously angered and confused me, even as my heart was breaking.
Gradually, my appetite returned, but I didn’t sleep well. In my waking hours, I felt more on edge than I had in a long time, and I was thankful that I’d be speaking with Bowen on Monday. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I really needed his help.
*
“It’s clear that you’re upset,” Bowen said. “Anyone in your situation would feel the same.”
I was in the kitchen, staring at Bowen on the computer screen. I had told him briefly about my trip to Easley before plunging into the events involving Natalie and me. I spoke in circles, repeated myself more than once, continually posing the same questions without really expecting an answer. On his end, Bowen waited for me to finally talk myself out before offering any response.