I forced myself to crack a smile. “Spoiled rodents…”
Reaching into my pocket, I took out the letter. “I wrote you something while you were sleeping last night. I was wired because of all of the thoughts in my head. Read it after I leave, sometime tonight when you’re feeling lonely and sad.”
The paper crinkled as she clutched it to her chest. “Thank you. I will.”
I looked around one last time. “I’d better go. If I don’t force myself, I’ll never leave.”
Her eyes filled with tears again, but she nodded.
It killed me to see her this broken up, but she looked the way I felt inside. There was no easy way to do this.
She gripped my shirt as if to keep me from leaving. When she finally let go, I forced myself into the truck. If I waited for the moment when leaving felt right, it would never happen.
Heather hugged herself and backed up a couple of feet to watch me drive away.
I managed to start the truck but couldn’t put it into drive yet.
After I mustered the courage to shift into gear, I pressed down on the gas and started to drive away. From the rearview mirror, I could see her bury her head in her hands. That broke my heart. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t drive off and leave her crying in the driveway.
Rather than put the truck in reverse, I parked it on the side of the street and ran back toward her. She looked up in surprise as I lifted her into my arms and held her tightly.
This was what I’d been holding back in an attempt to avoid losing it. But escaping into my truck the way I had wasn’t right. I’d been trying to avoid this pain, but she needed this. I needed this. We needed to hold each other—for as long as necessary—one last time before I disappeared.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
HEATHER
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Heather,
As I write this, I’m watching you sleep. You look so peaceful, and that’s very ironic because I know there’s a lot of confusion swirling around in that beautiful head of yours—mainly confusion about us, where things stand, what the future holds.
You’re probably wondering how I could possibly let you go after last night, how I could walk away from something that feels so incredibly right.
Please don’t mistake my leaving for uncertainty about you.
When I first came out here, it was to help you in any way I could. Because of my guilt, I felt I needed to atone for my past mistakes. But you have helped me more than I could ever help you. You helped me to see the good in myself, to see myself the way YOU see me. You brought me joy I wasn’t expecting. My life is happier with you in it.
At the same time, I recognize that I’m flawed. I made a lot of mistakes when it came to my marriage, and while I feel like I learned from them, I still can’t be one-hundred percent sure I would make the best long-term partner for you, that I wouldn’t fuck up again. Despite those fears, I want to try to be the type of man you deserve.
I want to give it a year.
You know how I feel about you getting to be on your own, with nothing holding you back. It’s a rite of passage and one I think you need to experience.
One year, Heather.
Go to Vermont. Conquer the fuck out of it. Enjoy your freedom. Focus on school. If after a year’s time, you still want to be with me and still feel the way you do today, I’ll be here. We’ll figure out a way to make it work—whatever it takes—whether long-distance or otherwise.
I don’t want you to feel you have to choose between me and the freedom you’ve damn well earned. This letter is me telling you if you want me to wait for you, I will.
“What are you reading?”
I jumped.
My roommate, Ming, startled me. I hadn’t even noticed her standing in the doorway.
I carefully folded the piece of paper and placed it back in the drawer.
“Nothing.”
I’d pulled out the letter Noah had written me the night before he left New Hampshire because I was really missing him tonight. Occasionally, I liked to reread it and think back to the summer, to that time in his truck when we’d made love all night long. I would have given anything for just one night back at the lake, sitting on the porch and chatting with him under the moonlight like we used to.
I’d tried to call him tonight but got no answer. It was earlier than the time we normally spoke on the phone, so it didn’t surprise me that he hadn’t picked up. I’d had a long day and just wanted to hear his voice. His voice was everything now, since I hadn’t seen him in so long.
“What’s on that paper?” Ming asked. “You can tell me.”
“It’s personal…just something Noah wrote me a long time ago. Well, what feels like a long time ago.”
Seven months had felt like an eternity.
Ming’s friendship had made the passage of that time a little easier. I was grateful for her.
On my very first day of apartment hunting in Vermont, tired and really homesick, I’d stopped at a Chinese restaurant in the late afternoon. It was a cold, raw day. The place had been totally empty, but so warm inside, and the most enchanting Chinese meditation music had played on the overhead. It felt like I’d walked into a dream.
Ming had appeared and walked me to a table where she later waited on me. Absolutely starving, I’d ordered a huge pu pu platter. She’d gotten a kick out of the fact that I’d ordered all that food just for myself. I’d explained that I’d had a very long, stressful day and planned to eat the entire thing.
Since the place was empty, Ming had sat across from me and watched with great interest while I devoured everything in front of me. She and I got to talking, and I learned her father owned the restaurant as well as some apartments upstairs in the building. It happened to be just around the corner from campus. Ming lived in one of the apartments and was also a student at the university. When I’d told her I’d been searching for apartments all day, she mentioned she had an extra bedroom. The rest was history. I’d snagged a place to live on day one, along with an instant friend—one with quite the sense of humor.
It was no surprise that my fortune cookie that afternoon had read: You just ate cat. Ming was in charge of ordering the fortune cookies and made it her mission to put the funniest stuff inside.
She sat on the edge of my bed. “How is Mountain Man doing?”
I’d shown her a photo of Noah—unshaven and wearing one of his flannel shirts while working outside the lakehouse—and she’d instantly given him a nickname.
“I haven’t spoken to him today. I think he might have a late shoot.” I sighed. “It always gives me anxiety when I can’t reach him. I really needed to hear his voice. Today sucked.”
“Nothing tea and dumplings won’t solve.” She winked. “My dad just made some fresh ones.”
“That sounds awesome.”
Ming and I retreated to the kitchen and devoured the dumplings she’d brought upstairs. I’d probably gained five pounds since moving in with her.
Ming blew on her hot green tea. “So, what happened today that was so bad?”
“I think I screwed up my microbiology exam—like really badly. Then at work, I spilled an entire tray of food on a customer.”
“Ouch.”
I’d taken a job at a restaurant right off campus that was always crowded with college students. It was far more hectic than my old gig at Jack Foley’s.
I sighed. “How was your day?”
“I think I stooped to my lowest point today. I sniffed a baby diaper while babysitting.”
I bent my head back in laughter. “Oh man. I think you did.”