Page 87

21

NINA

“You know I’m proud of you, right? I can't believe you're actually coming with me when you wouldn’t have left the house two years ago.” Gwen's voice cuts through the hum of Atlanta's vibrant downtown as she navigates her Audi, veering onto a quieter side street.

The quick maneuver sends me tumbling toward the door. "Can you not jerk the car so hard? I'm already regretting this whole thing. You know what? Maybe we should just head back to Nashville. I have an exam on Monday, anyway. This was a terrible idea."

“No,” she retorts without missing a beat.

Gwen’s voice is as unyielding as Atlanta’s skyscrapers. She still hasn’t taken off her powder-blue blazer from her conference call, and we’ve been sitting in the car for over four hours. But she’s wearing my thrifted Grateful Dead T-shirt underneath—that she stole.

She huffs out a breath, blowing a strand of platinum hair loose from her bun. “You’re the one who asked to come, and I have a conference tomorrow that I can’t miss. Micah said you could see them after their game. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

I've come a long way from the girl who rarely ventured out of her dorm room during freshman year. That girl who canceled on her friends at the last minute. Who holed up under the covers and made promises she knew she’d break. Who constantly spewed hatred because she hated that version of herself.

I’m not that girl, and I never want to be her again.

I retreat into my ritual of breathing techniques, inhaling deeply for a count of four, holding, and then slowly exhaling. I repeat the cycle until my frantic heartbeat slows.

If I’m going to spend three months in Argentina, I need to get used to stepping out of my comfort zone and not relying on anyone to push me.

“You’ll be fine, Nina,” she repeats.

“Okay, I know I’ll be fine. You don’t need to keep saying it. I’m just going to say ‘hi’ to them tonight since they’re flying out tomorrow, and then I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

When I mentioned to Micah that Gwen had a conference in Atlanta that coincided with their away game, he invited me to come, and because I’m the naive college student who apparently likes torturing herself with older men who are all wrong for her, here I am, driving four hours to Atlanta to see Micah in the hopes that I’ll actually see Rhode.

Maybe I can convince him to treat me like another notch on his bedpost. I’m not marriage material, and I’m well aware that a man like Rhode Tremblay would never fall for an art student. He’s not my happy ending, but we can have fun for now.

We pull up to a fancy hotel that’s all gleaming glass beneath the night sky. They must pay someone a fortune to keep those windows bug-free.

“What should I do tonight? I'm thinking of going to this new wine bar,” Gwen muses as valets flutter around the high-end sports cars. “I could use a night to myself, but I’ll leave a hotel key for you in case you want to come back.”

“Why could you use a night to yourself? Is everything okay with Isaac?”

She flicks her hand, steeling her expression. Gwen buries her emotions deep so they’re never on her face. “Yes. It’s fine. We don’t need to talk about him.”

“You sure?” I narrow my eyes. “He hasn’t been around the house as much. Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him since the kitchen thing.”

“We’ve both just been busy. How’re things with Rhode?” she deflects.

Despite the bridge we've been rebuilding, there's still this niggling twinge of doubt that refuses to go away. I know it’s ridiculous for me to think, but sometimes, Gwen gets this look in her eye when she asks about Rhode, but I’m pretty sure that’s my imagination.

“Things are amazing,” I say, too bright. “That’s why I made you drive me four hours to see him. We stayed up last night debating the greatest hockey players. He lost it when I said Orr was better than Gretzky.”

He actually called me for once, and we talked until my phone ran out of battery. That’s what gave me the delusional confidence to come see him today.

“It’s honestly so weird to hear you talk about hockey and not random artists.”

“I’ve gone over to the dark side,” I say in an ominously low voice.

The valet swings the door open, and Gwen leans over to peck me on the cheek. I cringe a little, but I don’t pull away. “Tell Rhode I say hi.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. Have fun at the bar. Bye.” I hop out of the car, grab my bag, and make my way into the glittery hotel lobby, but at the last second, I run back to Gwen.

She rolls down the window. “What did you forget?”