Page 100 of Trust Again
“No, thank you.”
He looked different. More grown up. He was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt, the top button left open. He’d cut his longish blonde hair—more suitable for an office, I guessed.
“I want to talk to you about your phone call, Nate,” I began.
He winced slightly and looked down at his hands, which he’d folded on the table.
“It took me a long time to get over what you did to me. You can’t just call me and say things like that. We’re finished, we’ve been finished for a long time.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Judging by the furniture and pictures on the wall, you’re living with Rebecca. If that’s the case, it makes your call even worse. You can’t just get drunk and call me and tell me you still love me, for God’s sake,” I said. “Haven’t you learned anything from what happened?”
“That’s not what I said,” he countered.
I raised my eyebrows, stunned. “Maybe you were too shit-faced drunk and can’t remember, but your words are still ringing very clearly in my ear.”
He shook his head and not a single strand of hair moved. It was gelled. He’d never done that before. He looked kind of strange, like a statue. “What I said was that I miss you, Dawn. That we haven’t talked for a year and that I would always love you, but-”
The muscles in my jaw were twitching from clenching my teeth so hard, and Nate saw it.
“I made a mistake, maybe the biggest mistake of my life, screwing up our relationship. But I’ve changed. From now on, I’m taking responsibility for my mistakes.” He leaned back and rubbed his neck. “I called you because I wanted you to hear it from me and not through the grapevine. I…” He cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed.
“What is it?” I asked, frowning. Even though there was a huge gulf between us, I still knew Nate well enough to recognize that he had something serious to tell me.
He looked at me with an expression of deep regret in his eyes. “Rebecca and I are getting married.”
I waited.
And waited.
But I didn’t feel any pain.
“Well say something,” murmured Nate. He reached across the table for my hand and I wasn’t fast enough to pull back. He covered my fingers with his. And I didn’t feel any tingling. I felt… absolutely nothing. No resentment, no grief, and none of the fireworks that used to explode around us.
“Congratulations, Nate,” I answered softly and stared at my hand, which was almost completely covered by his. I’d always found his hands unbelievably attractive and beautiful. Now they were just… hands. Big, bulky mitts that were surprisingly motionless. Totally unlike the hands I now missed so much. Hands that could never hold still and were often decorated with splashes of paint or bits of glue.
“Is that all you have to say?” he asked, disbelieving.
“What were you expecting from me?”
His eyes grew wider. “I thought… after everything in our past, that you’d…” His words echoed in the huge living room.
“I’d do what? Throw myself onto the floor and scream?”
“You can scream at me, Dawny. You can do anything you like, if it means you’ll be a part of my life again,” Nate said, heatedly. As if for emphasis, he squeezed my hand.
“But I don’t want to be part of your life.”
“Dawny, please…” he begged.
“I came here today to tell you that I’m cutting you off for good. You can’t call me anymore, Nate, understand? I’ve built a life in Woodshill and I don’t want it to be spoiled by painful memories.”
A flicker of pain flashed in his eyes. “I just can’t imagine a life without you. We grew up together, Dawny. I don’t want to lose you forever. You’ll always have a place in my heart. That’s why I called you. Because I wanted… I thought maybe we could…”
“Be friends?” I asked and smiled sadly. “We’ll never be friends again.”
“You cut me out of your life, no hesitation!” It sounded like an accusation.