“Apparently you. Why are you calling me this late? Is it an emergency?”
“I had to wait until…” She trails off.
“Until Morgan fell asleep?” Who am I kidding? Of course they’re living together. Nora can’t stand the idea of living alone. “If he doesn’t want you calling me, then you shouldn’t be calling me. I have to go—”
“Wait. Finn, please. I’m just calling to apologize. I know he called you. If he was an ass, I’m sorry…he’s so…so…controlling. He shouldn’t have called.”
I press the speaker button and toss my phone on the bed. It sinks into the down comforter about a quarter inch. This duvet is overly fluffy and not my taste. Nora picked it out. I need to get rid of this thing.
“You shouldn’t be apologizing for him. And it’s not a big deal. I cleared it up, but just so you know, he thinks you’re cheating on him—”
“I’m not.”
“I didn’t ask if you were. I simply said he thinks you are. Whatever you two are going through, leave me out of it this time.”
I hear a door creak open and click closed on her end. I imagine her tiptoeing out of her apartment, well out of earshot. She’s silent except for the sound of her shoes clicking against iron stairs. When she’s finally reached her destination, she says in a huff, “I’m trying, but I…I just don’t love him, Finn. I’ve been trying really hard to move on, but I miss you.”
“Nora, stop—”
“No, please,” she pleads. “Finn, I swear I can do better. I’ve been working on myself. All the things you said, all the awful things you called me out for…you were right. You are right. I’ve been reading some books about anxiety and how sometimes people who come from bad childhoods can kind of project their insecurities—”
“Nora.” One word silences her. It’s my tone. Flat. Unconvinced.
“Please? Can we just meet? For coffee? It’s been a long time. People can change and grow up… I want to show you that I can be a different person for you.”
Nora’s easier to deal with when she’s being unreasonable and cruel. It makes sense to walk away. But every time she’s about to cry, my natural instincts kick in. My primal urge to fix it and make it better gets the best of me. So instead of hanging up, like I should, I do what I’ve been trying and failing at for years—I try to explain.
“It never bothered me that you had anxiety or insecurities. What bothered me is how you treated me. What bothered me is how I was paying for mistakes I never made. I treated you with respect, love, and patience from the very beginning and for some reason you punished me for it. Maybe if I’d been an outright dick to you, you would’ve respected me back.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I wasn’t in control of—”
“Nora.”
“Finn,” she says through a sniffle. “I’m not happy. You’re the only one who makes me happy and I will do better. I will treat you better. I promise. We don’t have to rush. Can we just meet up and talk?”
For once when it comes to Nora, my head and my heart are in the same place. “No. Listen to me. If you don’t love Morgan, leave him. But if the reason you’re unhappy is because you’re holding onto the idea of us…don’t. We’re not going back to our awful relationship. I’m sorry. It’s time to move forward, and us together is not the future.”
I blow out a big breath and rub my hands over my face. Thank you, Avery. I needed to know that talking to a woman doesn’t have to be painful, full of miscommunications and misunderstandings. I should look forward to a call, not dread it. I should be laughing more often than trying to hold back my anger.
The line is silent for a while before she speaks again. I can feel the atmosphere shift. I can picture her eyes narrow and her hand on her hip as her tone turns frigid. “You’re seeing someone.” She says it like an accusation.
I’m silent. Just hang up, Finn. This is a textbook trap.
“Did you hear me?” she asks, her tone still icy.
“I did.”
“Well, are you?”
I carefully compose my words. “Whether I am or not doesn’t change anything I just said.”
“Who?” Nora asks in what can only be described as a hiss.
“Why? So you can put a target on her back?”
“No. I just want to know who is so damn great that they’d make you close the door on us. How could you just move on like—”
I howl in irritation. “Are you fucking kidding me with this hypocrisy? You’re living with Morgan. You’re on his cell phone plan. Of all the dudes you could pull—Morgan? After what we went through?”
“It’s not like—”
“Stop. We’ve been broken up for almost a year now. Yes, I’m seeing someone. Yes, I’m really into her. No, I won’t tell you who. There’s nothing left to accuse me of.”
“I’ve been trying to call you for months, Finn. It takes a new number for you to even answer your phone? You left me and broke me. You didn’t keep any of the fucking promises you made. I actually thought you loved me.”
I ignore the tug in my chest. “The gaslighting is old, Nora. You say you’ve changed, but this is exactly the shit I left behind. We’re not together. I care about you. I want good things for you. But I don’t love you anymore.” I blow out another breath, trying to calm my rising blood pressure. When the heat of my frustration subsides a little, I add, “Look, we’re better apart. End of story. I’m happier now.”
“You’re a goddamn liar. You’re never going to stop thinking about me. Just like I’m never going to stop thinking about you. You can act like you don’t care, but you are never going to love someone the way you loved me.”
“Yeah, I hope not. That love almost destroyed me.”
“Fuck you, Finn. I hate you,” she says through sobs before she abruptly hangs up.
They aren’t crocodile tears. They’re legitimate. Nora’s furious enough to cry when she doesn’t get her way and she loses control of a situation. It used to work on me. I’d see her wet eyes and the tear-stained cheeks on her pretty face and I’d completely forget I wasn’t the one in the wrong. That kind of love is dangerous. Blinding. Manipulative. It will steal a man’s soul. I barely escaped with mine…I’m not risking it again.
One thirty-two a.m. Dammit. I’m up now.
I pull off the covers and swing my legs around, my feet hitting the wood floor with a soft thud. This house always sounds so hollow at night. Every step I take toward the kitchen echoes loudly off the walls.
Opening the fridge, I decide on an Alaskan Amber. I grab the magnetic bottle opener from the fridge door and I’ve barely popped the top on my beer when I hear the faintest knock at the front door. It’s past one in the morning. Either this is Avery or the politest burglar in the world.
Pausing by the security alarm, I disarm the front door and open it to see Avery, her hair in its usual disarray. She’s wearing pajama shorts and a tight tank top that’s so long it hugs the outward curve of her womanly hips. I never thought I had a type before but fuck, do I like her full hourglass figure. I love how she feels in my hands, like her body was made as my personal playground. Why is she so confused about how enticing she is?