“You okay?” Ryker stares at me from the other side of his kitchen island.
“Uh . . . yeah. I just . . . when are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I whisper as tears sting my eyes and nose.
“What?” He looks away unapologetically, and I know now that he wasn’t planning on telling me.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Were you, um, going to call me, or something?”
“Natalie,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair as if I’ve been pestering him somehow.
Feeling a wave of tears coming on, I set my glass down. “Just . . . call me when you’re back, okay?” Turning on my heels, I make as quick of a break for the door as I can without it looking like running.
“Natalie, wait!” Ryker meets me at the door, spinning me around by the shoulders. He can easily see the tears overflowing, causing his face to melt from indifference to concern. “Why are you crying?” He shakes his head and pulls his brows in.
“Nothing, I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have just shown up.” Wiping my nose with the sleeve of my coat, I continue, “Have a good time . . .”
Ryker’s thumbs rub against my shoulders as he stares at me without saying a word for a few seconds.
“I know,” he says as if I’ve stated something, “I haven’t called you, either.” My chin quivers as he continues, “I’ve wanted to spend more time with you, Natalie, I really have, but . . . some days it just feels like so much, you know?”
“I do.”
“Man. You were so great when I was at your place a few months ago, and you seem to be doing really well and . . . I didn’t want to screw anything up for you.” Ryker releases my shoulders and backs up, sitting on the arm of the couch.
“Are we really here again?” I take a step forward. “Are we really here, acting based on how we think the other person feels?”
I watch him swallow before he looks up.
“Ryker,” I start again, grabbing his hand, “I never asked you about Lucas because I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t call me for ten years because you knew I hated you, and I didn’t call you because I knew I’d ruined your life.” I nudge him over with my hips and sit next to him. “We didn’t know shit.”
His laugh is as uncomfortable as mine.
“I just need a little space, Nat.”
Defensively, I stand. “From what? We haven’t seen each other in like four months.”
“No . . . no, that’s not it.” Ryker follows me as I pace to the front door.
“Then what is it?”
I realize a second after I ask that this may have nothing to do with me at all. He does go there every year, after all. Sometimes, the things people don’t say speak louder than the things they do, though. Ryker’s at a loss. All I can see in his eyes is a struggle as he grasps for something to say.
I put him out of his stumbling misery. “Just . . . promise me you’ll call me when you get home.”
A defeated sigh comes from his perfect lips. He brushes a strand of hair away from my face, looking me right in the eyes. “I promise.”
My drive home is filled with tears of uncertainty, until Marion’s words filter their way through my brain.
. . . I was never uncertain about our hearts.
Chapter 44
Due to our helpful—and very expensive—lawyers, Eric was able to close on his house at the beginning of December, and is moving in today, two weeks ahead of Christmas. I took the boys on my off-weekend so he could move without them in his hair. It would be too difficult communicating with Ollie with an armful of boxes, anyway.
Pulling into his driveway, I work to push my feelings out of the way. A mix of jealousy, envy, and a twinge of sadness have forced me to really pull on some positive thinking to get through the day with the boys in one piece. Eric’s father greets us at the door and quickly takes the boys to scope out their bedroom, without looking me in the eye.
“The place looks great, Eric.” Standing awkwardly in the doorway, I tuck my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and look around.
“You can come in and look around, Natalie. I want you to feel at home here.”
A quick glance at his face shows me he’s serious. “What? Why?” I don’t need to feel comfortable in my soon to be ex-husband’s house.
Eric reaches for my hand. “We can start over. Here. Me, you, and the boys. Just . . . come home.” His soft candor churns my stomach for a second.
“Come home?” Pulling my hand away, I exhale in anger. I knew he stopped dating whoever it was a couple of weeks ago, but, honestly? Come home?
“Ye—”
“I didn’t leave you to go out on some quest, Eric . . . I left you.” It’s fairly easy for me to say since it’s the reality I’ve been operating in for the last six months. It’s clear by the pained look in his eyes, however, that Eric had a different ending mapped out here.
“Natalie . . .” He reaches for me again.
I back up reflexively. “Listen, I’ve gotta go—I’m running late for my visit at the Soldiers’ Home.”