Coffee spills over the top of the paper cup when Nate flinches, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t know what happened, Nate, but you got lost.” My voice is hushed, barely a breath of air that the wind threatens to steal. “You got impatient, lonely, or just in your head. But you couldn’t see the forest for the trees… and that’s what killed us. It wasn’t Tessa. This was never about her, not really. It wasyou.”
Two long strides and he’s in my space. He’s so close his nose almost brushes mine, and he leans down until his breath fans over my lips. “Just tell me what to do. I’ve given you space, I’ve tried… but I can’t prove I only seeyouwhen I’m never around you.”
“You’re missing the point,” I say, my voice breaking. All I can see is the familiar shape of his eyes and the fan of his lashes. The bump along the bridge of his nose, and the way his hair curls just so on his forehead. All I can see ishim, knowing thathe’s not mine anymore and I’m not his. He may seem as distraught by it as I feel, but it’s not enough. “You’re not asking yourself the right questions. And I don’t have the energy to teach you how to love me.” I close my eyes, blocking him out. “No, that’s not right. It’s not my job to teach you how to love me, Nate. That’s not—It’s not a relationship I want.”
“But Robyn, I?—”
“No.” My ribcage feels too small, my lungs too tight. “If you wanted a partner… if you wantedme? The chance to figure it out was before that kiss. Especially before it went fucking public everywhere.” My voice trembles. “You’re on your own now, Nate. Those nights you felt lonely? Those Saturdays when I was working? You weren’t on your own. But you are now.” I scoff. “Or I guess you’re not, I guess you have Tessa to fill your time with.”
“Robyn, I told you—I’m not with Tessa.”
“And I’m telling you,” I whisper, “I’m not convinced you know a thing about yourself.”
He swallows hard and his breathing stutters. “You said you loved me. Past tense. Do you… not love me anymore?”
My mouth goes dry. “That’s a hard question. I love the person you were when we built a life around supporting each other’s ambitions.” I close my eyes, holding my love for what we used to be near to my heart, so much it’s hard to breathe with all the space it takes in my chest. Meeting his gaze, I add, “This version of yourself that just shut down? The version of you who couldn’t stand how my career leaves me little time for you? This version of you has dulled the love I feel. And, honestly, it’s the version I see when you stand in front of me.”
His eyes widen—barely but enough that I feel the crack it makes.
“And it’s not even about Tessa,” I say, quieter now. “It’s—It’s that, at some point, you stopped believing in what we were building and you didn’t even notice.”
The coffee cup crumples in his clenched fist, the lukewarm liquid splashing onto his sleeve. And for one fragile moment, it looks like he might break right there on the hospital ramp.
“Hey, Robyn!” Someone claps me on the shoulder. I turn and see Dr. Howards, the head of general surgery.
“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to wish you luck on your upcoming interview. I’m sure you’re going to knock their socks off.”
He pats my shoulder again, then heads inside, the doors sliding behind him.
Nate clears his throat. “You have an interview? Are you excited for the position?”
I notice the way his eyes catch the light, that spark of pride and excitement meant for me, and it’s maybe the most heartbreaking thing in the entire conversation. Becausethisis the Nate who wanted for me exactly what I wanted for myself—the one I miss when I ache for what we had—and I allow myself a beat to savor it, to drink it in despite the sharp twist in my chest.
“Yes,” I manage, voice tight. “It’s a really great facility, and I’d work with both patients and clinical trials.”
“That’s amazing, Robyn.” He swallows thickly, jaw tight. “I hope you get it.”
Our eyes lock for a fraction longer than necessary. And I know every single thing he’s feeling, because I’ve memorized him by heart over the last two and a half years. There’s pride for my accomplishment shining in his irises, loss in the slump of his shoulders, and unspoken longing in the tightness of his fist around the coffee cup.
All I have left to give is a small nod. “I hope I do too.”
He tosses the destroyed coffee into the bin without another word, hands lingering on the edge of the trash likehe’s letting go of more than just a cup. Then he turns and walks away.
He doesn’t know it, but he’s just wished me luck for an interview that will take me half a continent away, and as I watch him walk away, there’s a quiet, twisting emptiness in the pit of my stomach at knowing there’s no coming back this time.
CHAPTER 20
The Collapse
Nate
I skipped meetingAndrzej for our Saturday bike ride and have done nothing but lie on this couch even though it’s almost one. An annoying ray of sun filters through the half-tilted blinds, hitting me right in the eye. There’s beer funk and burned, reheated tea clouding the air in my apartment. It’s oppressive, but it won’t clear unless Robyn walks in smelling of orange blossom and wholeness. Both drinks sit on the table within reach, right next to one another, because I can’t decide which one belongs to this version of myself.
This version of myself that Robyn doesn’t love.
Shape of Needlies open, spine angled, the feel of rugged thick paper under my fingertips. I flip through without much rhyme or reason. Occasionally, quotes catch my eyes, so I underline them, but nothing’s been noteworthy yet. That’s why the notebook next to the book is blank and I’m tapping it with the back of the pen.
