"And if the truth makes everything worse?"
"Then at least you know," Nick says. "And you can finally stop carrying her around like unfinished business."
He stands, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
"You've done a good job here though. With this studio. With Thatch and the boys. The Row is something special. You've built something real. Something that's going to outlive you. And you're sober, present, alive. Not everyone makes it that far from where you were. You're doing more than okay."
The words settle uncomfortably. I don't know how to accept praise without immediately cataloging everything I'm still getting wrong.
“Yeah but Tommy?—"
"Tommy's carrying too much," Nick interrupts gently. "You know it. And he's lucky you see it, that you're paying attention. But sometimes, Nate, you can't do it all. You can't fix people who aren't ready to be fixed. You just need to trust that they'll come around when they're ready, or they won't. Either way, it's not your failure."
He squeezes my shoulder once.
"Same goes for Nora. You can't fix whatever's broken in her life. You can only be honest about what you want and let her decide what to do with that information."
"And if Wes is what she wants?"
"Then you let her go," Nick says. "Really let her go this time. Not the half-assed version where you spend seven years wondering. The full version where you wish her well and mean it."
He pauses.
"But if she's not happy—if that ring is sitting in a drawer instead of on her finger for a reason—then maybe she deserves to know she has options. That someone still sees her."
He gives me one more look—something between encouragement and warning—then heads for the door.
Before he leaves, he turns back.
"You know what the difference is between you at twenty-two and you now?"
I shake my head.
"At twenty-two, you were drowning. You had nothing solid to offer anyone, least of all yourself. Now?" He gestures around the studio. "You've built a life. You've got something real to give. Don't discount that just because you're scared of the answer."
He pauses.
"And Nate? Whatever you decide—be brave enough to mean it. Half-measures never worked for you."
Then he's gone, leaving me alone with his words echoing in the quiet studio.
I exhale, turning back to the mixing console, pretending I have work to do when really I'm just trying not to think about Nora.
CHAPTER 16
CHAOS AND CATERING
NORA
I waketo the sound of chaos. The full-blown, pre-party pandemonium kind.
There’s voices shouting instructions. Furniture being dragged across hardwood. The sharp click of heels on the deck outside my window. A van backing up with that incessant beeping that drills into your skull.
I grab my phone from the nightstand.
6:47 AM.
Six. Forty. Seven.
