She smiled. “We ate cheesesteaks. Saw a Phillies game. Ran the art museum steps.” She fell silent. They did other things too, that he saw in full, brilliant detail in his mind. Was she remembering too?
“Good times.” He gave a little laugh. “Every single Sunday you’d cry when I left.”
“Well, I’m a crier.” She looked up at him, quietly assessing him. He had no idea what she was thinking. “And…I didn’t want you to leave.” She cleared her throat. “We were in love.”
Yes. Madly, wildly in love. “I never wanted to leave,” he said quietly.
They hadn’t been the best at communicating when they were married. He’d been the one to shut down, mostly, not exactly being a star at conversation. He knew now that they would never be able to chip at the surface of their iceberg of problems unless he made an effort.
And for some reason, it felt really important to try.
“You’re leaving,” he said, their gazes still locked.
“Yeess.” She said it like, What didn’t he understand about that?
“But this is the first I’ve heard of it.” He knew he was hurt, but he realized then that he was angry too. Couldn’t help it.
“Yes again,” she said. She didn’t sound mad. She sounded evasive.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Okay, not even five minutes and the frustration was seeping out. Not good.
She looked away, over his head. “I didn’t think it was important.”
“You didn’t think it was important?” Okay, he had to do better than repeating what she’d said in an octave higher than usual. And also, what he really meant was, You didn’t think I was important?
“There was hardly time, and let’s be honest, we don’t…we don’t communicate about things like that.” Now she was looking at the floor.
Let’s be honest. Something they hadn’t been for a long time.
“Yeah, but…” He was trying not to react but…California. He raked his fingers through his hair.
“Nick, we text about the house. But we don’t talk.”
Her words poked at him like tiny daggers. Did she think so little of him that she wouldn’t tell him she was moving across the fricking country?
“It’s—it’s not like that at all,” she said.
Oh no, he’d said that out loud, hadn’t he?
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity at a prestigious university, and I—couldn’t pass it up.” She was looking just past him. At his shoulder. Or at the wall, maybe.
She’d always done that when she wasn’t quite telling the truth.
“But you moved home for family. You bought your house with the intention of staying.” He paused before plunging into deep waters. “Is there—is there a guy? Maybe what’s his name? The superfan.”
She folded her arms, giving him a don’t-go-there look. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“He knew every last detail about your books.”
“His name is Sam,” she said in defense. “He loved and appreciated them.”
Nick gave an ironic chuckle. “I’ve never seen such an enthusiastic fan. He struck me as being a little odd.”
Nick knew he’d gone too far even before Darla’s brows knit down in a frown. “You know what strikes me as being a little odd? The fact that you’ve dated more women than…” Her voice trailed off and she took a deep breath. “You know what? I’m not going to discuss this. Anyway, there is no guy.” She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “It’s just time for me to move on and take an opportunity I can’t get here.”
Besides being angry, she sounded melancholy. But it wasn’t his business to pry. It wasn’t his right. So he backed down. “I’m sorry to mention the guy.” He couldn’t bring himself to say his name. “I’m happy for you, Dar. Look at all you’ve accomplished. I always knew you’d go places.”
“Apology accepted.”
Nick tapped his fingers together. Okay, maybe that was it. He should let this go.
Or maybe not. “You’re…you’re important to me. You always will be. Your news blindsided me. I—I don’t want to be shut out of your life.” There, he’d finally said what he felt.
Her eyes widened. Maybe in shock. It had been a long time since he’d spoken his mind like that.
“This is what you want, right?” He pressed her one last time. Because he wanted to hear it from her. Direct.
“Yes,” she said so quietly that he almost didn’t hear. “It’s what I want.” He could sense turmoil. Sometimes when she looked at him, her eyes got soft with what looked like tenderness. Like maybe she wished things between them were different.
But these were only flickers when she was caught off guard, like now. Then she shut down so fast that it left him wondering if he’d seen it at all.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said. “To be honest, I didn’t know how to tell you. Like it or not, we’ve been here in this town together since the beginning.”
“Yes, we have.” A sudden vivid image entered his mind of getting on the school bus in third grade, where he saw a pretty girl in pigtails crying because she’d forgotten her lunch. He’d sat down next to her and given her his entire lunch, including his Power Rangers lunchbox, because he just couldn’t stand to see her cry.
“Do me a favor,” he said softly.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice hoarse and raspy and clogged with emotion.
His gaze never wavered. “Give me the benefit of the doubt sometimes, okay?”
She nodded.
“Don’t always think the worst of me.”
Her brows shot up. She looked startled. “I don’t think the worst of you,” she hedged.
Now that she was leaving, he had nothing to lose. He got up close and circled his finger in front of her face. “I can see it in your eyes. Maybe I disappointed you years ago, but not all flaws are permanent and lethal, Darla. We were young. I didn’t make the best choices. But I’m different now.” He paused long enough to debate his word choice. But then he let loose with it anyway. “I’m a grown-assed man.”
She blushed, and he got a strange satisfaction in thinking that it might just be because she was remembering that he was, indeed, a man.
“I respect that you’re a grown, successful person,” she said. “But people don’t really change. The things that made us not work…they’re still there.”
Her words were harsh, but a flicker of doubt seemed to pass in her eyes. And another look entirely. Wanting. It caught him off guard. But he knew her too well not to know what it was.
It made him push even further. “What about the things that did make us work? Are they still there too?”
Her gaze locked with his and held. Something crackled and buzzed between them, and it wasn’t anger.
She shook her head, as if she were trying to shake him out of it. “Anyway, these few weeks aren’t about us. They’re about our friends. I’ll do everything I can to make this the best wedding ever. Even…”