Part 23 (1/2)

I opened the front door of my building and led him down the stairs to my apartment. I felt a flash of embarra.s.sment just before I opened the door, but I tamped it down. He had never cared too much about money before. It was silly for me to worry about him judging me now.

”So,” I said awkwardly as we stood in the tiny entryway. ”Uh, this is my apartment. Why don't you sit down and I'll get us something to drink? I have tea and some really horrible cheap wine.”

”I'll take the wine,” he said, sitting down on the couch. I winced as he sank low into the broken springs.

I hurried into the kitchen, eager to get a second to clear my head. Seeing him again had shocked me. I felt off-balance and awkward. As I found two plastic gla.s.ses and poured out the wine, I realized my hands were shaking.

”Here you go,” I told him, rejoining him in the living room and handing him his cup. ”Sorry, I don't have many proper dishes. This place is just supposed to be temporary and...” I realized I was rambling and forced myself to knock it off. I contemplated sitting on the couch next to him, but the sagging cus.h.i.+on would only end up making me fall into his lap. I could definitely do without the physical contact at this point.

”So,” I said, sitting on the cheap folding chair opposite him. ”What brings you out this way?”

”Work stuff,” he said. ”There's a conference in Chicago this weekend that they sent me to. I figured since I was out here I may as well give you a call.”

”I'm glad you did,” I said quietly, staring down at my wine.

”Annie,” he said. Nothing else. Just my name. He sounded so tired, so weary, like I was exhausting him already. The thought made my heart clench.

”I've missed you,” I said, figuring I had nothing to lose. ”I've really, really missed you.”

”Why?” he asked. ”Have you been lonely?” There was an edge to his voice that made me look up. He was staring at me with a hard look on his face. Like he was angry, or impatient.

”No,” I said. ”I don't miss you because I'm lonely. I miss you because you're you. And it sucks not having you around.”

He didn't reply, just looked at me evenly. Like he didn't believe me.

”I missed you too,” he said at last. The use of the past tense was not lost on me, and it made my heart drop. That was it then. He was over me.

I gazed at his face, this boy who had been so nice to me, who had seen through all of my pretensions. The first boy who had ever tried to break down my walls, had ever been interested in what was going on inside my heart. This boy that I threw away because I was too scared to accept the fact that he might actually be good to me.

The least I could do is tell him the truth.

”Remember that day in Vegas, when we had first met and we were talking about our families?” I asked quietly.

”Yeah,” he said, sounding surprised. ”That was our first date. I remember all of it.”

I nodded. ”You...you told me about your dad and I told you about my parents.”

”You were so uncomfortable,” he said, shaking his head. ”G.o.d, I remember looking at you and thinking that it seemed like you thought I was about to arrest you or something. Like you wanted to crawl out of your skin.”

I laughed, a short humorless laugh. ”Yeah. That's usually how I get when people want to talk about my dad. I try to pretend like it never happened, you know? Because then it can't hurt me.”

”You try to pretend like he never left?” he asked, sounding confused.

”No,” I said, looking down at my gla.s.s again. I didn't want to have to look at his face when I admitted how weak I was. ”The leaving was the good part. I try to forget all the stuff that happened before he left.”

”Like what?” he asked quietly.

”He...he cheated on my mom,” I said slowly. ”For years. And she knew it. She kept taking him back...or rather, she kept begging him to come back. It was always the same, he would screw around, move in with his girlfriend, and she and I would wait. When she helped me say my prayers at night she would always remind me to ask G.o.d to bring my daddy back. I never understood where he was, or why. Not until I got older.”

I took a deep breath, determined to keep my voice steady. I never talked about this, not ever. Besides Ginny and Jen, I had never told a soul.

”When I was older, I realized what *affair' meant. And *mistress'. I started to get mad at him, so f.u.c.king mad. Why the h.e.l.l was he leaving us that way? Why was he choosing those other women over us? I told my mom I hated him once, and she slapped me. She actually slapped me across the face. It was the only time she had ever hit me. And she did it in defense of the man that was cheating on her.”

I shook my head, disgust for her threatening to overwhelm me. ”Once she calmed down, she told me that I shouldn't blame him. It was just how men were. That's what she told me. *All men are like that, Annie.'”

”Ann,” he said, his voice tight, but I held up my hand.

”It's not like I believed her,” I said quickly. ”I know that there are plenty of men who don't cheat. And I didn't expect you to, like, fool around on me or anything like that. I just...”

I paused, at a loss for words. I could feel the tears coming and I was so desperate to hold them off.

”I just didn't want to end up like her,” I finally said. ”I promised myself that I would never, never end up like her. Wouldn't let my happiness depend on any man, no matter what. She still misses him, can you believe that?” My voice was closing up now, the tears imminent, and I gulped several times. ”The last time he left, it was for good. He got remarried, has new kids. And she still wishes, to this day, that he would come back. The day that I...that we...that day in my bedroom I had just gotten off the phone with her. He took her to lunch and she was so excited to tell me about it.”

I shook my head as images of my mother's face leapt up in front of my eyes. My poor, stupid mother. Who had loved me and taken wonderful care of me my entire life, even on her own, even under terrible circ.u.mstances. She had always wanted only the best for me-and I couldn't even respect her.

”s.h.i.+t,” I whispered, as the tears started to pool. I didn't want him to see me like this, so I stood up quickly.

”I'll be right back,” I said, my voice shaking under the strain of my breaking control. ”Just need...bathroom-”

Before I could take more than a step, Nate was there, pulling me into his arms. The relief I felt, the happiness at his touch, was so overwhelming I felt my breath catch. But I didn't want him to see me like this. I pulled away.

”Stop,” he said, his voice strained. ”Annie, please just stop running away from me. Please.”

There was so much sadness in his voice. As if my pulling away had literally hurt him.

”Please,” he said again, and I finally gave in. I relaxed into his arms, resting my head against his warm chest. And I cried.

I cried for my father, who I had lost so long ago. And I cried for my mom, whose life was so sad. But mostly I cried for me. Because I had let all of these things affect me so much, had let them change me and control me until I could only let my two oldest friends in, no one else.

And I cried because I knew I was in love with this man. And I was scared that he would love me too. Scared of what that would mean and how I would handle it if he did, in fact, love me.

But much more than that, I was scared that he wouldn't.

”I'm sorry,” I finally said when my tears had subsided. ”I'm sorry I treated you that way.”

”It's okay,” he said.

”No, Nate, it's not. No one should be treated like that, especially not you. You're too good, way too good to be messed around that way.”

”I'm not all that good,” he said. ”I knew you were hurting but I pushed anyway. I forced you into that decision when I knew you needed more time.”

”Please,” I said, laughing and pulling away. ”Don't try to make me feel better. I'm the bad guy here, okay? Just let me be the bad guy.”

”Okay,” he said, smiling for the first time since I had laid eyes on him on the street downstairs. The sight of that smile sent my heart lurching somewhere in the vicinity of my ankles. ”You're the bad guy.”

I laughed-then started crying all over again. ”Annie!” he said, looking distraught. ”I'm sorry, I was just-”

”Teasing me,” I said, smiling through my tears. ”I know. I just missed you teasing me, that's all.”

”Let me get you a tissue,” he said, walking into the bathroom.