“I was just trying to be helpful, that’s all.”
"Do you still love her?"
He says it gently, without heat.
"Jesus, going straight for the jugular.”
"Well, there's no point beating around the bush when you're a no bullshit kind of guy." He smirks. "So, are you?"
I run my hand through my hair, buying time I don't have. My jaw tightens.
"She's engaged. I'm—I'm not the person she knew before either.”
"True, but that's not what I asked." His voice is steady, patient. The same tone he used when I was fresh out of rehab and couldn't string two honest sentences together. "I asked if you still love her. Not if it's complicated. Not if it makes sense. Just—are you?"
The words stick in my throat.
Admitting it feels like opening a door I've kept locked for good reason.
But Nick's looking at me with those eyes that have seen me at my worst and stayed anyway, and lying feels more exhausting than the truth.
"Does it matter?" I say finally.
"Kind of, yeah."
"There will always be a part of me that loves her. But how are you supposed to know the difference between loving someone and loving who they were to you?"
Nick nods slowly, like he's been waiting for exactly that admission.
“And besides, what am I supposed to do?" I ask, and I hate how lost I sound. “When she's engaged to someone else. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"
"You're supposed to be honest," Nick says simply. "With yourself first, then with her if it comes to that."
He leans forward, elbows on his knees.
"Listen, I'm not saying declare your undying love and expect her to run away with you. But Nate—you've spent years being the guy who faces shit head-on instead of running from it. Don't start running now just because it scares you."
"It doesn't scare me," I lie.
"Bullshit. It terrifies you," he corrects.
I hate that he's right.
The thought of Nora leaving again, of watching her choose someone else with full knowledge of how I feel, is worse than wondering. At least wondering leaves room for possibility.
My chest tightens. I look away.
“You know, Alfie used to always say," Nick continues, voice softer now. "'Never live half a life. Half-hearted, half-wanted, half-committed—it leaves you hollow even if you think you're okay.'"
He pauses.
"He said it to me when Kat and I were dancing around each other for months, both too scared to admit what we wanted. You know what happened when I finally told her the truth?"
"She said yes."
"She said yes," Nick confirms. "But that's not the point. The point is I stopped living in the maybe. I stopped torturing myself with what-ifs. Whether she'd said yes or no, at least I'd have known. At least I'd have been honest about what I wanted instead of pretending I didn't want it."
The weight of it settles in my chest.
