Page 102 of Let’s Be Real

“No…you’re right.” She rubbed her lips together. “It’s hard to stop being concerned for him. We were together so long, and I saw him through a lot of ups and downs. You probably remember some of it, but being inside a relationship with him is so different from seeing it from the outside.”

Boy, were my hackles raised. She wanted to remind me how long I’d been on the outside? I knew full well. She was the one on the outside now, and she didn’t know Nate anymore.

“You don’t need to be concerned for him, Rosalie. I understand you have history with him, but that’s all it is: history.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Is there anything else?”

Her brows dipped with consternation. “I’ve offended you, haven’t I? I’m so sorry, but I think, when it comes to Nate, it’s best to be frank. He’s easy to fall in love with, but loving him is a feat. I think you should be prepared for that. He’ll run if things become difficult, and you’ll be so bereft without him you’ll find yourself chasing him. It’s a cycle, and it doesn’t end until you choose to remove yourself for the final time.”

I barked a dry laugh. “It’s funny, when I first saw you walking out of the bathroom, I remembered you so differently. I’d always envied the way you’d seemed to know the right thing to say and do. But I was seeing you through a child’s eyes. Now? You’ve shown up at your ex’s mother’s memorial to trash-talk him to his girlfriend. There’s nothing appropriate about that. And I just wonder, have you ever considered you were the problem, Rosalie?”

She schooled the outrage from her features in a blink, but she couldn’t quite keep it from the rise of her voice and tautness in her shoulders.

“I’m not perfect.” She didn’t sound like she actually meant that. “I did love Nate Wells. I loved him so much; if he had asked me to marry him, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but it didn’t matter. She moved closer, raised her voice a little louder. “But if someone offered me the chance to go back and never meet him”—her eyes glimmered in the dim hallway lighting—“I would take it. ”

I pictured Nate being strong by Louise’s side. Forgiving her. Taking care of her in her final days.

He was in that room, exhausted to the bone, greeting mourners, comforting them. Thanking them for coming. Holding himself together because he had no other choice.

If he’d heard her say that…

Well…knowing Nate, he would have apologized.

And that was the moment I became sure I was in love with him. I loved Nate Wells. Big. He was something special, and what he’d overcome, the circumstances he’d endured, the battles he’d won over his own mind, weren’t anything to take lightly. Rosalie had known him once, but I knew him now, and what she was saying about him had no relevance here.

A fierce protectiveness ignited in me. I wouldn’t listen to another second of this. “You should leave, Rosalie. You being here won’t help anyone.”

She stumbled back, pressing the tips of her fingers to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t kind.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know you might not believe it, but I did love him very much.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. Please keep taking care of him, Samantha.”

I stayed in the hallway a few minutes longer after she left, giving myself time to settle down. The last thing Nate needed was for me to go back into that room angry.

But the audacity of that woman…wow. It was one thing to be bitter over a breakup. It was a whole other to come to Louise’s funeral and say those things.

I didn’t know who’d ended the relationship for the final time, and it didn’t matter. All I felt was relief that Nate was no longer in a situation like that.

By the time I’d opened the door to the memorial room, I’d buried all of it.

Nate had enough to bear. He didn’t need to carry her ghosts too.

That night, Nate held me close—as close as he could keep me without sharing skin. I touched his scruffy jaw, kissed the dip at the base of his throat. Something was vibrating beneath his surface, and it worried me.

For him, certainly. But for me too. Especially now that I’d discovered how far gone for him I was.

I was always alert, waiting for the end to come. On the edge of my seat for the words, “It’s over, Sammie.” Rationally, I knew that wasn’t where this was going. Not tonight.

But the side of me that had been braced for rejection since my formative years dug my fingers into the metaphorical arms of my chair, waiting.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll get there sooner or later.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”