Part 99 (1/2)
Composed again, I open the door. Nate sits on the bed watching. He's pale too, face lined by tiredness.
”Don't say a word,” I warn. ”Could you let me dress please?”
”Sure, go ahead.”
”Haha.”
”Your phone rang.”
I s.n.a.t.c.h the phone from the bedside table. Marcia. Some would have Mum as the contact name, but she's a brick in my secret wall. Nine a.m. c.r.a.p. I've missed talking to Josh.
”You okay?” asks Nate.
”I will be, once I've dressed and returned this call.” Nate lies back on the bed and stretches out. ”What are you doing?”
”Going back to sleep?”
”What? No.”
”I didn't sleep very well, Riley, and I drank too much. It's not as if I need to be anywhere.”
Do I tell him to get up and leave? I'm in the weaker position here; I already had my hands on him once today and I can't have him concluding that's why I want him out of the room. Nate's sure to grab any excuse to move into innuendo and teasing, and I've given him a lot of ammunition.
”We don't share a bed again, and we do not talk about this,” I say in a low voice.
”Sure thing, Smiley.” He grins at the ceiling.
I grab my clothes from the chair I draped them over last night and walk back into the bathroom to change.
I live in the twenty-first century so why the h.e.l.l can't this situation be resolved? If I have to stay in this pub another day I might just trek to the next village and plead with somebody to take me into town.
The other people are friendly, and we've learned to respect each other's privacy but the claustrophobia stifles me. I've run out of things to say to Val and Becca, and my panic over what work I'm missing means I spend futile time trying to get back on top of things. With each e-mail I answer or problem I solve, five more appear, and my hands are tied by my location. Then there's the big event next month I really can't screw up.
Each time I attempt to let go, thoughts of work intrude.
Nate remained in bed all morning, again, and I spent the time at my usual table by the open fire with my phone and laptop.
This is b.l.o.o.d.y ridiculous. Three days. We now have a ”maybe” rather than a ”no,” but the thaw that set in yesterday froze again overnight. I'm increasingly frustrated with only managing half of my work from clients, and I've missed meetings with potential new ones.
I miss Josh and my absence intensifies the ”I'm a failure as a mother” feelings that follow me around in my life, but then I rationalise I didn't choose the situation I'm in. But if I hadn't travelled to Newcastle... If I hadn't taken a lift with Nate... My life is one long string of ifs.
I'll avoid Nate when he reappears because my emotional state destabilises more as each hour pa.s.ses, and I'm struggling to hold myself together. Nothing is in my control - my environment, my work, and my feelings for Nate.
I'm alone in the kitchen eating a sandwich for lunch when a damp-haired Nate appears. The scent of my body wash pa.s.ses with him and I sigh inwardly. He's back in his usual jeans and T-s.h.i.+rt, which is not helpful because my eyes are drawn to his a.s.s and long legs, the body I was draped over this morning. Heat stirs in my belly. Jesus, Riley.
”Are you feeling okay?” I ask him as he pulls a mug from the draining board.
”What do you mean?”
I gesture at the mug with the teabag string hanging over the side. ”Tea? Not beer?”
Confusion tugs at his brow. ”What? You want one?”
”Sure, not every day a rock star makes me a cup of tea.”
Nate shrugs and turns back to his tea making. A few silent minutes later, weak tea sloshes from a chipped mug he places in front of me.
”This is driving me f.u.c.king nuts,” he grumbles. ”How do you stand staying inside all the time?”
”I have nowhere else to go.”
Nate gulps back the hot tea and I wince. How does he not scald himself? ”Wanna go for a walk?”
”Uh. No. My shoes aren't up to more arctic expeditions.”
”Val has some wellies. I'm sure you could borrow them.”
”I'll pa.s.s, thanks.” I sip my tea.
”Riley, I'm trying here.” He slumps in his seat.
”Trying to do what exactly?”
”Have a conversation. Be nice. Can you do the same? It makes things easier.”
”I am being nice.”
The look of disbelief Nate gives me irritates me. I am. Jason and Becca's voices laugh and shriek outside as we lapse into silence.
”I wasn't teasing you before. Being with you again... takes me back and not just to the bad stuff,” Nate says finally.
I grip my mug handle. ”What are you saying?”
”We were in the wrong time, wrong place, and screwed up by misunderstandings.”
”Misunderstandings? I misunderstood that you were an arrogant jerk?”
Nate stands and shoves his chair back, hard. ”You know what, Riley? f.u.c.k it. I thought I was the one with issues but you... you take the f.u.c.king biscuit.”
I stand too. ”You made me look like an idiot in Paris. The desperate PR girl chasing the rock star who screwed her and walked away.”
”We never did, and I never told anybody we had!”
”But you let them think it. ”
”You wanted to though, whatever you say now.”
My mouth falls open. ”That's exactly what I'm talking about! There's self-a.s.sured and there's... you.”