We drop the conversation there, switching the topic to Julian’s shift today, shadowing one of the neurosurgeons. He’s transitioning into more specialized surgeries around the same time I’ll need to transition to my new job—wherever that ends up being.
The block between Momo District and the hospital is short, a straight shot past a row of uneven planters. Julian’s stride is loose and swinging, and I have to walk a tad quicker to make up for his long legs, but I’m used to it. A breeze tries to lift the ends of my hair, carrying the scent of rain that hasn’t fallen yet.
The closer we get, the busier the sidewalk becomes—scrubs in every shade, badge lanyards flashing. Julian nudgesmy arm with his elbow again, the kind of companionable bump that says he’s here and he’ll support me even if he has his own feelings about it.
The moment we round the corner, he’s standing by the sliding glass doors outside the staff entrance. He’s got one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his navy chinos and the other wrapped around a coffee from the little corner shop he knows I like. His reddish-brown hair is windblown. Broad as he is, the narrow ramp leading up to the staff entrance almost shrinks around him.
There’s a traitorous jolt low in my stomach when I take him in—the purple smudges under his eyes, the overgrown beard. I know it’s Nate, but he isn’t the man I’m used to. He’s a wrung-out, exhausted version of himself. It takes effort not to dwell on what the sight of him does to my heartbeat.
He’s looking down, shoulders folding inward, mumbling to himself. The hand holding the coffee lifts, drops, makes a small circle in the air as if he’s rehearsing or psyching himself up. I’m guessing he’s determined to make me listen to whatever half-assed excuse he’s got for trying to make me feel guilty about Daniel.
He looks up and goes still. Then his gaze slides to Julian at my side. Nate’s shoulders shift slightly, straighter, and he peruses my body before giving the slightest nod.
As we come closer, Nate extends his free hand in a fist toward Julian. Julian doesn’t even pretend to be cordial, he just looks him up and down, unimpressed.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Julian says, stepping into the space between Nate and me, Nate’s fist pressing against his midsection until he drops it.
Nate angles his body to the side, seeking my eyes so he can address me directly despite Julian’s body between us. “I just need a couple minutes of her time.” His voice is low, almost hoarse.
“I’m right here.” I step around my friend, even though my chest is tight and unsteady.
This is the second time since we broke up that Nate’s turned up here. It’s like he’s refusing to follow the DNR I put on our relationship even after I called the time of death. I honestly don’t want to hash this out. I’ve told Nate over and over again I don’t have the time nor the energy. I can’t stand it. I’ve been decisive but cool, so I need him to let me be done.
I don’t need Julian to shield me from this, even if I still haven’t figured out how to stop loving Nate. There’s no alternative with a man who doesn’t own his choices or respect mine.
Julian looks back over his shoulder, searching my face for confirmation that I’ll be okay. And because he respects my choices, he simply nods before walking into the hospital.
Once it’s just us, Nate’s gaze drops to the pavement as he stretches his arm out, offering me the coffee.
I click my tongue. “Just say what you came here to say.”
He wraps both hands around the paper cup, twisting it in his hold until the logo faces him, then me again. “Robyn, I’m?—”
“Aren’t you tired of your apologies?” My words come out in an exhale of exhaustion. I don’t even bother to wait for his rehearsed little speech. “Because I’m tired of hearing them.”
His throat bobs. “I just want to say that you were very clear. You weren’t… stringing me along or anything. You were within your rights t-to be with whoever you decided to be.”
I fold my arms across my chest, and Nate’s eyes follow the movement. When he lifts them again, his copper-brown eyes are swirling with emotion. They’re not mine to care for any longer, but I can’t avoid registering them. His hurt pains me, but I can’t afford to let it change anything between us.
“I know all of that,” I say.
He wets his lips. “I don’t think less of you. I need you toknow that. For what happened. Or what might happen while we aren’t together.” There’s hope in his stare, the lines around his eyes have smoothed, as if he’s so happy he’s getting the right words out.
I kick a tiny little stone on the concrete and scoff. “That’d be pretty fucking ballsy of you.” My voice is vibrating with tension, and he flinches, his jaw flexing as he looks away. He shifts his weight, but I can’t help going for the jugular. “And at least I’m single for anything that I decide to do, hm?”
“I deserve that.” He dips his chin once, then lifts his head again, something stubborn lighting behind his eyes. “I also need you to know I’m not moving on. Not with Tessa. Not with anyone.”
The fucking nerve of him, as if that’s supposed to be some kind of absolution from the mistakes he hasn’t even admitted in the first place.
“Well, you’re within your rights to do thatnow.”
He shakes his head once, firm. His hand goes to his sternum and rubs the center. “It’s not what I want.” His next breath stutters, chin trembling. “I want you back, Robyn, and somehow, I keep messing everything up.”
Anger and grief twist inside me—two live wires that create a small explosion when their exposed ends finally meet. “Nate, we were together for two and a half years.” I wait until his eyes meet mine before I add, “It took your best girl friend being back in town for less than a month for our relationship to implode under lies. What does that tell me about how much you want me?” My fists clench. “What does it tellyou?”
He winces—shoulders tightening, fingers curling around the coffee cup until the lid buckles. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t truthful. I own that. But I also want to show you that I can do better.” He smiles, but it’s tentative, shadowed with insecurity at the corners. His eyes meet mine then slide away in the next beat. “That month doesn’t cancel out everything else, right? I was a damn near perfect boyfriend for the rest of it.” His lashes flutter, stubbornness flashing through his expression. “I cooked. I cleaned. I brought you coffee at the end of your shifts, and I want to do it all again. I even want to do more, Robyn. I want everything you wouldn’t let me do before… I want to do it now.”
A bark of humorless laughter escapes. “Do you even hear yourself?” I tilt my head, then fling a hand toward him. “Bringing me coffee and making dinner is nice, but it’s by no meansperfect. I can order my own coffee and feed myself just fine. I never loved you because of what you did. I loved you because you were mypartner. Because your eyes lit up when you talked about architecture. Because you made crappy jokes about cake even though you don’t like cooking shows.” A shaky exhale makes me pause, and I have to shut my eyes to get through my next sentence. “Because you made me feel like I could aim as high as I wanted and still come home toyou.”
