by Claire Raye
“Guess so. Not that I don’t still feel fucking awful. He’s going to hate me,” I say, running my free hand over my face.
“That’s something you’ll have to deal with and trust me, you’ll get over it,” Alice states unsympathetically.
“Alice, that’s really cold,” I answer, yet still knowing how right she is.
“It is what it is.”
It takes me at least an hour to work up the courage to haul my ass to Ryan’s house and tell him I can’t continue seeing him. I know he said to give it the weekend, but I don’t want to drag this out anymore.
I’m suddenly overcome with anxiety as I push my finger to the bell at his garden level apartment. I’ve always loved Ryan’s apartment and at times even pictured myself living there with him. The quiet garden out back, the scraped and worn wide-plank wood floors, there was something soothing about it.
There were a lot of things about Ryan I loved, but in the end, I’m not in love with him and I probably never will be.
“Nora?” he questions as he opens the door and takes me in with his eyes. “What are you doing here?” His tone is formal and judging by the way he’s looking at me, my decision isn’t going to come as a shock to him. He’s made the call in his mind already.
“Can I come in?” I ask as he leaves me standing outside his door.
Stepping aside, I brush past him and into the small entryway of his apartment. Something about it immediately feels less welcoming than it has in the past. It feels darker, unnaturally quiet, lonely even.
Without stopping to choose my words carefully, I just simply state the reason why I’m here. “This isn’t going to work, Ryan.”
He nods his head but says nothing. His posture is stiff and his face impassible as he waits for me to speak again.
“I’m not sure what to say at this point, but I think we both knew this was coming. All I can say is I’m sorry.”
He chuckles a little to himself and it makes me self-conscious. I never intended for things to turn out this way and I don’t want him to remember me as the bitch who led him on.
“Honestly, Nora, it’s okay. I came to terms with it a while ago. I’ll never have your heart and I just can’t deal with that.” He shrugs his shoulders, as if he’s dismissing me, like this is my easy out. I can walk away without feeling guilty because it’s a mutual decision.
It doesn’t work that way. While the decision might be mutual, it was ultimately me who led us to this point.
“Take care,” he says as he turns back toward the door, opening it and giving me a curt tip of his head as if to say it’s time for me to leave. “Sometimes this is just the way things end. Don’t overthink it,” he adds when I stall a bit before walking out the door.
“Bye, Ryan,” I say as he’s closing the door.
It’s a moment like this when I feel like I should be crying, but it’s almost as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
That probably makes me a terrible person.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Elliot
I spend the next couple of days sitting on the beach alone doing absolutely nothing. It’s quiet and peaceful and the more I’m here the more I wonder why I ever left. I left because I thought I was better than just a lifeguard, that I needed to find a life where I could start over. Now that I have it, I hate it. I hate my job, the money, the business of my life. I’d trade it all just to come back here and there are times I’d trade it all just to have one more day with Nora.
I think about my choices and how they may ultimately have made it impossible for Nora to find me. Had I just stayed in San Diego, working at my guard tower, the one I took Nora to, maybe she would have found me. Maybe we would be together now, living happily. I can’t continue to rehash all the mistakes I’ve made. I just need to move forward.
I was able to adjust my flight to leave from San Diego, but the soonest I can get into New York City will be around seven o’clock on Sunday night. Nora’s book signing is at seven and I’m afraid I might miss it should I get delayed at all. Regardless of what happens I’m not backing out this time.
My flight leaves in an hour and I’m sitting at the airport now. I replied to the email from Nora’s publishing company letting her know I’m planning to come to the signing. I’m not sure why I replied, guess I was hoping she would tell Nora since I still have no way of contacting her directly. I would doubt her publisher even mentioned my email since she said there have been other guys claiming to be me.
I land at JFK without incident and hail a cab to the bookstore. I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot as I wait for a taxi to pull up. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous, but I keep repeating my father’s words in my head…what’s the worst that can happen?
Right before I left, Maggie told me she was happy with my decision and while she’s friends with Bridgitte and had hoped things would work out for us, it wasn’t meant to be.
As the cab sits in a flurry of traffic I check my watch at least one hundred times hoping things get moving. It’s now a quarter after nine and I’m still miles from the bookstore.
“Don’t take 278,” I tell the cab driver. “It’s under construction.” I let out an annoyed huff as he fails to acknowledge my suggestion and heads that direction anyway. “Seriously, man, I’m in a hurry and this traffic is fucking ridiculous.”
He ignores my pleas as the traffic once again comes to a screeching halt.
“Come the fuck on,” I mutter, checking my watch as the minutes tick by and each minute that passes makes me think I will once again miss her, just like I have for the last thirteen years.
“You can get out here,” the cab driver replies pointing out his window, bothered by my orders and my ramblings as traffic begins to move slowly, inching closer to my destination.
By the time we finally reach the bookstore it’s nine-thirty and due to the bookstore being on a one-way street, the cab driver attempts to circle the block, but I stop him. Shoving a couple of twenties at him, I bail out of the cab and practically sprint around the block to the bookstore.
Completely unaware of the people around me, I practically knock down a woman leaving a nearby store as she tries to exit.
“Sorry,” I call, but the look on her face says I’m anything but forgiven. I normally wouldn’t behave like this, but I feel like I’m about to miss my opportunity.
My heart is racing, pounding angrily against my ribs and my breathing is labored and not just from the short jog around the block. This is it. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long and nothing is going to fuck it up.
I grab for the door to the bookstore and it’s locked. There it is, right in front of me, the store closes at nine-thirty and when I look down at my watch it’s nine thirty-five.
“Motherfucker,” I shout, pulling my hands through my hair. I don’t know whether to scream out loud, cry or laugh. It’s all too fucking much. There has to be a point when I give up for good.
The book, the dedication, the email, the hotel; it all felt like I was being led directly to Nora, but now, I feel like I just used those things as excuses for my stupidity. The store is closed. If that’s not a sign for go-the-fuck-home, I don’t know what is.
I scrub my hands over my face and turn to leave the store and as I do, I see her.
Nora
She’s standing on the corner of the street a few feet from the bookstore. I’m certain it’s her and she looks fucking stunning. She’s as beautiful as the day I met her at that party, if not more so now.
I watch her for what feels like forever. Her eyes are closed as she lifts her head toward the sky and holds it there for a moment. She’s smiling and her dark brown hair is blowing in the wind. It’s like it’s happening in slow motion. She steps over to the curb and I know she’s going to hail a cab. I’ll miss her again if I don’t get moving. It’s what makes me realize I have to say something. I have to stop her from hailing a cab.
I call her name, but it gets lost in the crowd an
d the city noise, yet it appears as if she hears me. She looks around for a split second so I yell her name and begin to push my way through the few people still left gathering on the sidewalk out front of the bookstore. And again she stops, looking around, but she doesn’t see me. She laughs a little and her face lights up, stopping me in my tracks. Seeing her in person cannot compare to my memories.
Her hand is in the air and a cab comes to stop in front of her and I know I need to start moving again.
I have no idea what I’m going to say when I reach her. At this moment I can’t even think straight, but all I know is I’ve found her. It doesn’t matter what happens after.
Her hand is on the door of the cab when I finally make my way to her. I reach out to grasp her elbow and as I do the wind blows, slowly filling the air with the scent of coconuts. It’s a smell that I know well. It reminds me of my job in San Diego, of the beach and of a time when I fell in love with Nora.
She smells like I did the day we met, like sunscreen and the beach, the salty sea air and summer. I want to take her in my arms and hold her. I want to tell her how much I’ve missed her and that I never stopped looking for her, but it’s all too fucking overwhelming.
My hand is still wrapped around her elbow and I don’t want to let go. I’m afraid I might lose her again if I let go, like she’ll just vanish like she did thirteen years ago. I can feel the warmth of her skin through her shirt and it radiates through my fingers making this moment feel entirely surreal.
She turns to look at me, her beautiful brown eyes shining in the dim light of the street. Her face is a mixture of shock and confusion and relief as she looks at me. I don’t know what else to say so I say her name, “Nora.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Nora
The next day goes by in a blurry, hazy mess of wondering if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life. My life is in a constant state of unrest and worry, with thoughts of fate and reasons why things occur the way they do and if I’ve just repeated the past.
I left Ryan’s feeling relieved, but guilty and I woke this morning with a heavy feeling in my chest and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. I’ve tried to ignore it all, knowing I have my book signing coming up and chalking the whole thing up to nervousness.
Yet, my every thought comes back to what-ifs, far too many to even understand. Was my relationship with Ryan destined to fail? Was it meant to end this way? Or was it something that I had to work at to make it work?
Every choice we make in life has its consequences and life isn’t fair. It never has been and sometimes it shows what you think belongs to you, only to take it away. Elliot.
In this case, I ended what I hope will one day not be a huge mistake. But given my past, it’s hard not to think I could have possibly gone wrong.
My book signing is tonight and Alice was planning to come with me, but I told her I’ll go it alone. I have no idea what to expect although my publicist has assured me there will be a decent turn out.
I meet up with my publicist and my agent a few hours before the signing to get everything ready. The place is already busy with a small line forming in the store. It’s a tiny place, not much larger than my apartment, but it’s a good place to start. I don’t want to be too overwhelmed by the situation.
It’s been strange for me to put my story out there. Something I kept to myself all these years and while the response to my book has been great, there have been the occasional comments that I’m crazy, that there is no way a guy I met at eighteen would still be looking for me. But then there’s the other side that sees the romantic side of it, the side that gives people hope that there is fate and people do fall in love at first sight.
The book signing is a whirlwind of questions and comments and pictures, and the two hours go by in a blink. I enjoyed it far more than I expected and half an hour after it ends, I’m finally making my way out of the store. The crowd has died down, but I’m still smiling like crazy when I step outside.
I walk to the corner of the street and stop, my smile still lingering as I take a deep breath, finally feeling like my life is coming together, and that’s when I hear it.
I hear a voice call my name. It’s muffled over the noise of the passing cars and I look around wondering if I’ve actually just imagined it. A horn blows loudly and in that instant I hear my name again. This time it’s a near shout, an almost desperate plea.
I turn, standing on the street corner just steps from the bookstore, I still see no one, but the few people who are gathered on the sidewalk waiting for cabs or heading home for the night. None of them look like they’re trying to get my attention. Waiting for a moment, I begin to laugh at myself, knowing how ridiculous it is that someone would be calling my name on the streets of New York City at this time of the night.
I toss my hand in the air, hailing a cab to take to James’ so I can tell Alice about my night and as I do, I shake my head at my own stupidity. It’s been a while since I’ve thought of Elliot, but in that second when I thought I heard someone call my name, his face was the first thing that I saw.
The cab comes to a screeching halt at the curb and I reach for the door, opening it and just as I’m about to climb in, I feel a hand clutch my elbow.
I turn and find myself staring into the eyes of someone I never thought I’d see again.
“Nora,” he says and it’s like my name was meant to be said by him and only him. The way it falls from his lips, so simple and pure.
I take note of his hand still wrapped tightly around my arm and the warmth it brings spreads throughout my body.
The world suddenly comes to a standstill. The streets of New York fall silent around me as I stare at him without fully knowing what exactly is happening.
There was a time in my life, many actually, where I thought I would die if I didn’t find him, and now that he’s standing in front of me, I think I might crumble to pieces.
“Elliot,” I whisper, but the sudden rush of city noise that floods my ears swallows my words. They’re lost so I say it again, testing his name and making sure what I’m seeing is real. “Elliot,” I repeat, the words strangled on a ragged breath.
The cab driver blasts his horn, startling me, and Elliot’s hand drops from where it had been holding onto my arm. The loss of his touch sends a chill throughout my body as a deep seeded longing to have him hold me in his arms takes over.
“Hey, lady,” the cab driver screams and I instinctively turn to look at him, but panic that in that second I’ll look back and Elliot will disappear.
I slam the cab door closed and step away from the curb, my eyes trained on Elliot, still trying to grasp if what I’m seeing is really happening.
We haven’t spoken and I’m not certain what I should even say. I’ve longed for this moment for thirteen years, but never fully expected it to ever come to be. I have nothing but jumbled thoughts of excitement and desire, mixed with anger and fear, but most of all an overwhelming sense of nervousness.
My hands are shaking and my mouth is completely dry. I’m not certain I could speak right now if I had to. Yet I know I have to say something, someone has to.
The silence between us lingers, Elliot staring at me as he runs his hand through his hair and glances down at my trembling hands.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” he eventually says and I burst into tears.
I expect him to be alarmed by my reaction but he isn’t. He’s far more composed, his eyes sympathetic and he reaches out to me, but pulls his hand back as if he’s questioning whether he should touch me or not. Part of me wants to scream out for him to take me in his arms, but another part is conflicted. This isn’t my life and Elliot isn’t mine. I’m not his.
“Is there some place we can go and talk?” he asks, his voice steady and controlled.
I look around at all the people moving on the sidewalk unaware of what is happening here. But to me, to Elliot, this is a defining moment. It could change our lives just like our meeting did thirteen years
ago.
“My apartment is just up the street,” I say, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. Should I be inviting him to my home? The sensible adult in me is screaming no. But the wild and reckless child in me remembers what it felt like to throw it all away and run off with him. The lust and the rebellion and the need all pooling and making me want to be irresponsible. Which all led to feelings I’ve been trying to recreate for over a decade.
“Okay,” he says and I begin walking. Within seconds he falls in line next to me, his hand slipping into mine like it belongs there. He strokes the top of my hand with his thumb and with each pass of his finger, I begin to relax. There’s nothing awkward or uncomfortable about it. It’s like he knows it’s a source of comfort for me, as is the silence between us.
I can’t believe how easily we’ve fallen back into the pattern of when we first met. The companionable silence, the handholding, the feeling of butterflies filling my stomach and floating into my chest. It’s all very surreal.
I’m still sniffling when we approach my building and neither of us has said a word. Elliot is okay with my tears, never questioning me or making me feel uncomfortable.
“Are you sure it’s okay if I come up?” he asks as I stop out front of the building. When I take in his face it nearly breaks my heart. Sadness fills his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, while his once vibrant smile is now turned down as if he’d be crushed if I said it wasn’t okay. And quite honestly it would crush me to watch him walk away, to turn him away after all this time.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I answer back, but again my voice is hushed, a nervous quality to it. I feel like I should be more welcoming, but I’m still struggling to figure out exactly what is happening here.
By the time we reach my apartment, the silence has overcome us once again. The elevator ride is slow and silent and as we enter, we say nothing, but Elliot’s hand brushes the small of my back and I swear my legs feel like they might give out.
