He's everything I could ever want in a boyfriend, and I want him to become that, but not yet. I want to get my head in a better place before I take our relationship further. I want him to go out with the Callie I used to be, not the one I've been this past year.
That night, we have dinner in the renovated kitchen. Nash wants to get a new kitchen table, but for now, we're using the one his grandfather had.
"So you never knew your grandfather lived here until after he died?" I ask.
"Nope." He takes our plates to the sink. "For years, he was only a couple hours away and I never knew."
"I wonder why he never tried to contact you."
"He just didn't have any interest in meeting me." Nash takes a photo album from the box and sits down at the table.
"But he put you in his will. He gave you his house."
"Maybe as he got older, he felt guilty for not meeting me and decided to leave me his broken-down house. I'm sure my mom didn't want it."
"What did he give your mom?"
"I don't know. Probably the rest of his money. I wasn't there for the reading of the will. Like I said, some lawyer just called me one day and told me I owned this house. He wouldn't give me any other information about my grandfather or my mom." Nash opens one of the albums. The first page is all photos of his mom. "You think she looks like me?"
I scoot my chair closer to his so I can see. "Definitely. You have the same smile. But you and your brothers all have the same eyes so you must get that from your dad. Do you have a photo of him?"
He gets his phone out and shows me a photo. His dad has a rugged, outdoorsy look like Nash. He has dark hair with streaks of gray, and blue eyes like his sons.
"You definitely look like your dad, but you got your smile from your mom."
He sets his phone on the table and lets out a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw.
"What's wrong?" I ask, because he seems stressed.
"He's going to be so pissed."
"Who?"
"My dad." He sighs. "I've decided to try to find my mom."
"Really? When did you decide this?"
"I was thinking about it ever since you found those photos of her. I want to meet her. If she tells me she doesn't want a relationship, then fine, but I have to at least try to meet her. My dad will be pissed at me for doing this, so I don't think I'm going to tell him until after I've found her."
"How are you going to find her?"
"When I was cleaning out the drawers in the kitchen I found a business card for the place she used to work. I only know she worked there because my grandfather wrote 'Donna's work number' on the back. I called the number and they said she hadn't worked there for ten years, but they gave me the number for one of her co-workers who she used to be friends with. I called the woman but she hasn't called me back."
"Where was the place she used to work?"
"It's some manufacturing plant in Moline."
"Moline, Illinois? As in a few hours from here?"
"Yeah. So if she still lives there, I'm going to drive there and see her."
"Your dad never knew she was there?"
"No. He lost track of her years ago. And he never met her father so he didn't know he lived here." Nash flips through the photo album. "What would you do if you were me? Would you try to find her?"
"Maybe, but I think I'd be afraid of what I'd find, so maybe not." I put my hand over his on the table. "Nash, what if she rejects you? Isn't that going to be like losing her all over again?"
"Guess I'll find out if I'm able to track her down." He closes the photo album. "Do you want to go do something? I don't feel like going through these right now."
I sit back. "But that's the whole reason you invited me over."
"That was only part of the reason," he says, getting up from the table. "You want to go somewhere?"
"Not really. Could we just watch TV at my house?"
"Sure." He helps me up. "Let's go."
Back at my house, we sit on the couch and I flip through the channels. I find a movie to watch but I'm not watching it. My eyes keep going to the table that no longer holds Greg's book, and the chair without my mom's knitting basket next to it, and the empty space by the wall where Ben's toy bin used to be.
I turn away from Nash so he won't see the tears that are sliding down my cheeks. But he must sense something's wrong because I feel his hand behind me, curved around my shoulder.
"Callie," he says softly. "Come here."
I shake my head, the tears falling faster now.
The couch cushions sink as he moves over until he's right beside me. His big arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest. He kisses my head. "It's okay," he says quietly. "It's okay to be sad."
"It's been over a year," I say, my voice trembling, "and it's not getting any better. I shouldn't still feel this way."
He turns me toward him and I put my head on his chest, savoring the feel of his warmth, his strength, his comfort.