Chapter Sixteen
23. He doesn’t think things through.
Can we meet for dinner?
I want to talk.
Please, Kate. Just hear me out.
I slid my cell phone back and forth in my palm and looked at my last hour class. I had the strongest desire to ask their opinion on Nick’s out of the blue invitation. Sure, they were freshman… young… immature… pimpled. But maybe if I explained the situation to them they would have some kind of genius insight and give me the advice I had been searching for.
Or maybe I had accidentally started taking LSD and I could no longer separate my hallucinations from reality.
Was that possible?
I looked down at my pink thermos.
Maybe these little bastards were slipping it to me when I wasn’t looking.
“Mrs. Carter!” a gangly kid named Gabe shouted from the back of the classroom. I was so startled by his outburst that all I could do was look at him. He took that as permission to continue. “Do you want us to answer all of these questions? Or just the ones we know?”
I blinked at him. “This is a test.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know if you wanted us to guess or not.” He rubbed his nose with his palm and I could hear the slick slurping of snot from here.
“You’re not supposed to have to guess, Gabe. You were supposed to study last night so that you would know all of the answers today.” And honestly, had he never taken a test before? Did he really not understand the concept?
He canted his head to the side and looked as confused as ever. “So you do want us to guess?”
Some of his classmates snickered at his bewilderment and I shushed them. “Yes, Gabe. Answer all of them. You might even get some right.”
“I’m not going to get them right,” he mumbled.
I pressed my lips together to keep from commenting further. I squeezed my phone between my hands and decided it would be a very, very bad idea to ask these kids.
They couldn’t possibly understand Nick’s intentions any more than they could the Canterbury Tales. And that wasn’t saying very much.
I held my phone under my desk and discreetly typed, Where?
If he said Starla’s I would use this in court against him.
His response was immediate. The Purple Pig.
Ooh, fancy. I taunted.
My treat.
I hesitated for another minute. I lifted my eyes and watched the class for a few minutes, making sure they knew I would catch them if they tried to cheat.
Finally, when I was sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to, I turned back to my phone and typed, I’ll have to go home and change first.
Two minutes ticked by before he responded. My heartbeat tripled in my chest and I wasn’t sure of what to make of my nerves. I didn’t know why my palms were suddenly sweaty or my legs so restless.
When his next text came, it was completely unexpected. I could pick you up. Followed by another one directly after it, If you wanted.
When I took a breath, it trembled in my lungs. I can drive, I told him quickly. What time?
7.
I stared at his simple reply and worried that I let him down. Then I worried about why I was so worried I let him down. Then I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide for the rest of the night.
The bell rang, followed by a collective groan from the struggling freshman still working on their test. I tried not to smile wickedly. If they had trouble with this one, just wait until I gave them the final.
Muahahaha.
Although, maybe I should incorporate some more in class review before I let them crash and burn in a couple weeks. Clearly they weren’t going to take the lead and study on their own.
God, forbid they show a little initiative.
I collected their papers as they left the room and listened to their excuses and complaints with the patience of Gandhi.
I glanced at the clock in the room and calculated traffic, a shower and some time to down a bottle of wine. Maybe two. I needed to get moving if I was going to be on time for Nick.
Did I care if I was on time?
I decided not to answer that question.
I closed up my classroom in record time, threw the tests in my bag as I locked the door and skipped checking my mailbox. Whatever was in there could wait until tomorrow.
I passed Kara in the hall, but she was already involved in a conversation with our principal, Mr. Kellar, a balding middle-age man that was so tall, he made Kara look like a dwarf. But like a hot dwarf.
I waved to both of them, ignored Kara’s penetrating curiosity and dove into the freezing December afternoon.
Scraping my windshield and waiting for my dated car to heat up had never been more irritating. But finally, I was on the road to my house.
By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was a jittery bundle of nerves and it had nothing to do with the fact that my heater hadn’t gotten remotely warm on the commute.
I kept replaying our text conversation in my head and checking my phone every two minutes. Why had I agreed to dinner with Nick? I wanted to punch him in the face for what happened during mediation.
Or at least run him over with my car.
Wait, was that better or worse than punching him?
He had been so rude to me, so hurtful.
But maybe part of me thought if we could have a civil conversation, I could talk him out of wanting the house. I could reassure him that I wasn’t pregnant and maybe that would ease his mind a little bit.
Maybe his unrealistic demands stemmed from a fear of losing a child?
His child.
Our child…
He had nothing to worry about, though. I was definitely not pregnant. And when my period had come four days after our failed mediation, I had hated him all over again.
As impossible as I knew it was, Nick’s small flicker of concern about a potential child had ignited hope in me.
For those few days, I had wondered if maybe it was a possibility… if maybe my womb wasn’t shriveled or wilted.
If maybe motherhood wasn’t an unreachable pipe dream.
But then my period had come… stronger and more uncomfortable than ever- like it was on a rampage of righteous vengeance- and it was like fate was playing some kind of sick joke on me.
See? my mind whispered. You’ll never be pregnant. You’ll never have a baby of your own.
You’ll never be a mother.
I had been furious with Nick all over again. I had written him a dozen hateful texts that never got sent. I’d even composed an email that vomited every vile thought I could think of.
But in the end I hadn’t sent it. Not because I’d changed my mind, but because I didn’t want him to feel as awful as I did. Even after everything we’d been through, even after his behavior during mediation, I couldn’t deliver that news again.
I couldn’t disappoint him again.
I assumed he’d figured it out by now.
I showered and dressed in a simple black wrap dress. It wasn’t the nicest thing I owned, but it gave me the illusion of curves and I knew he liked it.
I would be freezing in this weather and I would hate myself for wearing heels when I would have to walk at least a block from the parking garage to the restaurant. But I couldn’t not look nice tonight.
I didn’t know if it was to impress him or punish him.
And I didn’t examine my feelings long enough to figure it out.
When I walked into the trendy wine bar, the crush of people surprised me. I wasn’t expecting this kind of crowd for a Wednesday night.
I pushed through bodies to find the hostess stand, but Nick caught my attention before I could ask her if he had arrived yet. He sat at the bar in stylish gray jeans and a black sweater that fit him well. His jaw had been trimmed and he’d recently had a haircut. His chestnut hair lay over his forehead just right, a little mussed and perfectly sun-kissed, even though it was the dead of winter.
He was gorgeous.
He was too gorgeous.
The corners of his mouth lifted when our gazes collided and he raised his hand in a small hello. I didn’t smile back. Or wave.
I spent every ounce of energy composing myself before I had to speak to him.
When would it stop being such a lightning strike when I saw him? When would it stop feeling like the earth had come to a screeching halt and I had been pushed forward from momentum and propulsion and impetus and all other scientific terms until he became my entire world? Until he became everything I saw and heard and smelled and breathed?
When would this attraction to him die?
God, I was a mess.
He leaned in when I placed my hands on the high-backed bar chair. “Hey,” he murmured. “Was parking a pain?”
I licked dry lips. “Parking is always a pain down here.”
He shifted nervously and tugged on his damn earlobe. “Do you, uh, want to take a seat? I made a reservation earlier today, but they said it would be a while yet. I can ask them again if you’d rather-”
“This is fine,” I interrupted. This was actually better. Sitting at the bar would feel infinitely less intimate than a table against the wall.
I hung my purse on a hook under the bar and slipped my coat off, hanging it on the back of my chair. After I’d climbed up and situated myself, Nick slid me a drink menu.
“What are you drinking?” I asked him while I studied wines.
“Manhattan.”
I wrinkled my nose and saw him smile in my peripheral vision. “They have a cab franc,” he murmured.
Instantly I perked up. My favorite.
I told that to the bartender who deadpanned, “We only sell that one in the bottle.”
“Oh.” My eyes fell back to the menu, perusing it for something different.
“We’ll take the bottle,” Nick announced.
The bartender immediately gave us his back and I swung my head to face my ex-husband.
Soon to be ex-husband.
“Are you trying to get me drunk? Do you think that I’ll be easier to deal with after I’m three sheets to the wind?”
He chuckled lightly, “I know you won’t be easier to deal with. I’ve seen you drunk.” I glared at him because I didn’t want to laugh. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get a reaction out of me, he explained, “It’s your favorite. Besides, they can cork it for you at the end of dinner and you can take it home with you. It’s not a big deal.”
Buying the wife you were separated from a bottle of her favorite wine just because it was her favorite wine was, in fact, a very big deal. But I decided not to point that out.
Instead, I nodded once and said, “Thank you.”
He leaned in and I caught the tantalizing scent of his cologne and skin. “You’re welcome.”
The bartender reappeared with my wine. It took him a few minutes to uncork it in front of us and go through the tedious process of letting me taste it before pouring my full glass.
As if I was going to turn it down.
Clearly, he did not know me.
After he finally disappeared again, I examined the food menu.
“You can’t stare at your menu the entire night,” Nick teased. “This isn’t just a free meal. You have to work for your dinner.”
He was being nice to me and I had no idea what to do with it. Was he just trying to soften me up so he could get what he wanted? Or was he being genuine?
I set my menu down. “I didn’t think it was a free meal.”
“I was just teasing you, Kate.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know what you want?” His tone was less playful.
I hated that I’d chased it away. “I think so.”
“Me too.”
“Okay, good.”
He fidgeted with the corners of his menu for a minute and I suddenly had a hard time swallowing. I could feel him building up to something, feel the energy inside him expand and contract until it pushed at mine… until it invaded every ounce of my space, every inch of my body.
The bartender came back before either of us could speak again and we put in our food order. He had a ridiculous amount of questions for us and by the time he turned around again I had decided that I should voice a formal complaint.
Except he wasn’t doing anything more than what he was supposed to. My nerves had put me obnoxiously on edge. I took a shaky sip of my wine and savored the flavor, hoping to find center.
Hoping to find solid ground.
“I’m sorry for what happened during mediation. I didn’t… I didn’t expect you to take it so hard.”
I stared at him, unable to form words for a full minute. Finally, I whispered, “Which part?”
“You have to know that if we had a baby… if you became pregnant, that I would do everything in my power to give that child the very best life.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I told him quickly. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
He flinched. I watched pain fill his blue eyes and his shoulders tense with disappointment.
The wine churned in my stomach and I wanted to sob. Didn’t he know what his disappointment with me did to me? Didn’t he understand how much my inability to do this one thing right tore at me, shredded my soul to pieces… poisoned my thoughts of the future and turned all of my hopes and dreams to ash?
“I thought you’d be relieved.” My voice was such a harsh rasp that I wasn’t sure he could even hear it over the din of the restaurant.
He leaned in again, ignoring my comment completely. “I didn’t realize how deeply affected you were until mediation. I should have. God, I should have known that it would kill you to even talk about it. But… before we separated you had seemed, I don’t know… it was like you’d shut off all of your emotions about a baby. I thought you were... I thought maybe you were…”
“Callous? Heartless?” I lifted an eyebrow. “You thought I didn’t care?”
“Yeah,” he admitted sadly. “Yeah, I thought you didn’t care.”
“It started to hurt too much,” I admitted. “I didn’t… I couldn’t keep hoping each month that that would be the one that was different. I couldn’t keep waiting for each month to prove me wrong. It would have killed me.”
He shook his head, struggling to swallow. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry I was too blind to see how much you were hurting.”
My chest felt pinched, my heart thumped painfully. “It’s not something you have to worry about anymore, Nick. Like I said, I’m not pregnant. It’s done. You can take it out of your demands.”
His fingertips lifted my chin, “Hey, look at me.” I obeyed, but he didn’t give me much of a choice. His deep blue eyes pierced me, body and soul. I felt captivated… transfixed… imprisoned by the intensity of his expression. “I can’t change the past, but I want you to know that I think you’ll be a lovely mother. I think you’ll be perfect. The very best.” His voice roughened, deepened. “And one day, I know you’ll get to be one. I know it will happen for you.”
Tears welled in my eyes and I wanted to run from the room, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything but let him look at me and hold me in place with his sincerity. “You can’t know that,” I whispered.
“I can,” he swore. “You’re too beautiful a person not to have a child, not to be a mother. It will happen, Kate. I know it will.”
A lone tear slipped beyond my control and slid down my cheek. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it away.
The bartender reappeared with our meals and I finally tore my eyes from his. I stared down at my elegantly prepared Osso Buco and wondered how I could possibly eat it. No matter how good it was, it would still taste like dust in my mouth. I would still have to fight to keep it down.
“Why did you really ask me here, Nick? Was it really just to apologize for that?”
He pushed his fork around his plate, stabbing his pork shoulder with a savage frustration.
When he looked back at me the tenderness in his expression was gone, replaced by something fierce and primal.
“I’m not going to stop, Kate. I need you to know that.”
“Stop what?”
He didn’t answer specifically. Instead, his voice pitched low and his hand landed on my knee, his fingertips sliding beneath the hem of my dress. “I’m not going to back down.”
“About the divorce?” I guessed. “You can’t have the house. You can’t have Annie.”
“I want more than the house and Annie.”
His words sent a shiver of fear slithering down my spine. “Why are you doing this?”
His eyes flashed with something dark and familiar. Lust, I thought at first. But then… but then maybe something more too.
“Because I can’t stop.” He sounded as pained and desperate as I felt. “I can’t let this go.”
I didn’t know if he was talking about me or the divorce. I didn’t know if he meant us or our things. But I couldn’t speculate.
I couldn’t ask him.
I jumped to my feet and he caught the bar stool before I could topple it.
“We shouldn’t have done this.”
“Don’t be a coward now, Kate,” he challenged. “Don’t back down now.”
I glared at him, even while my heart felt like it was splitting in two. “I’m leaving.”
“Leave.” His chin jerked toward the door. “Run if you have to. But this isn’t over. I’m not going to stop just because you won’t face me.”
I shook my head, unable to come up with anything to say. I grabbed my purse and my coat and stumbled through the restaurant, pushing my way to the door.
The icy wind slapped me in the face as soon as I stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to shake off Nick’s threats… or the electric heat that still sparked between us.
It was like I was addicted to him. Why couldn’t I just move on? Get over him?
Why did I get sucked back into his gravity every single time?
It was finally obvious. This divorce was going to kill me.
I would die before I ever finalized the end of my marriage.
Chapter Seventeen
24. It’s me. I’m beyond damaged.
Every Wrong Reason Page 18
