Not unless he could tell me where the hell Nate was.
“No, thank you.” I tipped him, and then I was alone with my jet lag and worried heart. I sat on the king-size bed, the one that Nate was supposed to be in with me, and took out my phone, cursing that I hadn’t paid for international service because I’d wanted to be left completely alone with Nate.
But I had Wi-Fi. I checked my email, then my social media accounts, but there was nothing from Nate.
Then I checked his. The last post had been from five weeks ago, when he, Torres, and Rowell went fishing. They both had J first names, but I couldn’t remember which one was Justin and which was Julian since Nate mostly referred to them by last name. I’d never met the man with the smiling brown eyes, or the tall smirking blond, and their pages were private, just like Nate’s. They’d both entered Special Forces with Nate, but the fourth friend he’d mentioned was never pictured anymore. Nate had called me after he’d gotten back from that fishing trip, then disappeared yet again.
I looked around the sumptuous bungalow. Even leaving my feelings out of the equation, this place must have cost him a fortune. There was no way he wasn’t coming. Nate had always shown up for me. Always.
But doubt crept in. We hadn’t been speaking as frequently these last eight months. I’d been consumed with the hours a new associate had to put in, and he’d been off doing whatever it was he did.
Lying back on the bed, I fought off exhaustion with every blink of my eyes, scared I’d miss the moment he burst through the door and kissed me.
When I opened my eyes, it was light out, but the sun shone from a different direction.
I scrambled from the bed, my body stiff from sleeping in my clothes for what had obviously been about eleven hours. “Nate?” I called out, searching the bathroom first.
If he’d gotten in and found me sleeping, he wouldn’t have woken me. He was annoyingly selfless that way.
The bathroom was empty, so I unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. “Nate?” My voice was swallowed by the sound of wind and waves.
Wait. The door was locked. He hadn’t unlocked it. Dread skittered like ice along my spine, and I went back into the room, picked up the phone on my nightstand, and dialed for the front desk. “Hi, can you please tell me if Nathaniel Phelan checked in?” I asked.
“One moment.” I heard the sound of clicking keys. “No, I’m sorry, ma’am.”
My stomach hit the floor.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then put the phone back on the receiver.
Nate wasn’t here.
I swiped open my phone and texted the required phrases to accept the fees for international service, but the only text was from Serena, wishing me a happy trip.
This was . . . impossible. I hit Nate’s button in my contacts, and it rang twice again. Yesterday—or had it been the day before—I’d been certain that meant it was off, but what if he sent me to voice mail?
“This is Nate. Leave a message.” So curt and to the point, just like he was.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said after the beep. “I’m here, but you aren’t. You haven’t texted, or called, and I’m starting to freak out that maybe something has happened to you, because I know you wouldn’t stand me up like this. Just . . .” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Just call me, Nate. Even if something has come up, please tell me you’re okay.”
I ended the call.
I ate alone that night, holding out hope that he’d been held up and would walk in at any second.
The next morning, I sat on the sun-warmed deck, my feet dangling over the edge as I clutched my phone like the lifeline it was.
Pain filled the space between heartbeats. I knew this feeling. It had consumed me every time I looked for my parents in the stands at swim meets, only to find empty seats. It had eviscerated me when Jeremy chose to wife-shop at Yale over moving to Georgetown with me after I’d changed everything about my life for him. It had raced through my veins like ice, numbing me when Mom and Dad chose to keep cruising instead of coming home after the plane crash. I’d been in this position too many times to count—left waiting for someone I loved, only to realize I was never their priority.
I fought it, my aching heart promising my cynical head that Nate wouldn’t do this, but as the hours passed, the truth sank in.
He wasn’t coming.
I bit the bullet and called Serena.
“What are you doing calling me on your lovey-dovey vacation?” she asked. “Tybee says hello, by the way.”
“He’s not here.” My voice came out just as flat as I felt.
“Nate?”
“He’s not here,” I repeated, forcing myself through the words. “Has anyone come by? Anyone . . . in uniform?” My tongue tripped over the words. It was the only other explanation I could think of.
“No, Izzy. No one’s been here,” she said, her voice softening. “Are you okay?”
“No.” My eyes watered and my nose stung as I blinked back the torrent of tears. “Maybe he’s deployed? But I mean, he’s always slipped me some coded warning in a text or a call. And I don’t know any of his friends. I can’t think of a single person I could call and ask.” I knew so little about his actual life that it was embarrassing. Serena was right. He could have an entire family that I knew nothing about. He’d kept me on the fringes of his life, never letting me in.
But no one had batted an eye when I’d stood at his side at the funeral.
A new girlfriend maybe? A new . . . wife?
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“What am I supposed to do? Staying makes me foolish, and leaving means . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
“Come home or stay and soak up what sunshine you can.” So sensible. So Serena.
“I don’t want to be here without him.”
“Then you have your answer.”
I started crying and didn’t stop. I worried the resort staff as I checked out, and then frightened the attendants when the tears kept coming on the flights I’d changed. The tears came and came and came as I crossed time zones, date lines, and what felt like years. People stared and offered tissues, which only made me cry harder.
My eyes were nearly swollen shut, hot and scratchy, by the time I walked into my apartment, and when I saw Serena, the waterworks started again. It was like I had an unending supply of tears.
She held me tight and rocked me like we were little again. “It’s okay,” she whispered as I sobbed on her shoulder.
“I have to let him go, don’t I?” The words were stuttered and broken. “It doesn’t matter if he did it on accident or on purpose—I can’t keep living like this, Serena. I have to let him go.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her arms tightened around me.
Nate and I had waited so long to take our shot that we’d missed it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IZZY
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 2021
How dare he.
He didn’t see the allure of marrying someone who was at least present?