Our Way

by Swan, T L

  Recently, it’s like everything has come to a head. I keep going over and over that last week we were together, and how I reacted to Robert’s admission of love.

  I was shocked, for sure. But I constantly told Eliza it was her that I wanted.

  I exhale heavily. Did she see it differently to me? I told her that I didn’t want him. I told her I loved her. I told her how I felt.

  But she left anyway.

  I close my eyes in regret. I don’t even know who was in the wrong anymore.

  I was positive it wasn’t me, but I know Eliza, and I know that she would have called me, if only as a friend, if I were not to blame.

  I watch a seagull. It flies over the ocean and lands on the sand. Music starts up somewhere in the distance, and another wave of fresh memories roll in.

  I remember us dancing out here in the moonlight to the distant melody.

  I open a beer and take a seat in the deckchair, and I put my feet up on the ottoman as my mind repeats the mantra, Where did we go wrong?

  Five days later

  I sit on the balcony and stare at the unopened letter in my hand. I read the words on the front of it.

  My darling Nathan.

  It’s those exact words that have kept me from opening it.

  She’s going to try and soften the blow as to why she left—justify it in some way—and I don’t want to hear it. She needn’t waste her breath, because the cold, hard fact is that she just didn’t love me enough to stay. No pretty words can take that away.

  Amanda’s, my new therapist, words come back to me with her advice: If you don’t open the letter, you won’t ever move on.

  She thinks that because I don’t know all the facts, my mind is holding onto the heartache, and holding me captive along with it. She thinks there’s a reason I couldn’t have my tatoo removed.

  I throw the letter onto the table in front of me, and I sip my beer as I stare at it and then place it back down.

  This fucking letter has been taunting me for six months.

  I twist my hands together on my lap as I brace myself.

  Fuck this. I pick it up and tear open the seal.

  Nathan.

  Timing hasn’t been kind to us, my darling.

  * * *

  I walk into Majorca airport and up to the reception desk, on a mission.

  “Hello.” The receptionist smiles.

  “Hello, my name is Nathan Mercer, and I am booked on a flight to San Fran this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “I would like to cancel it, please.” Her eyes come to me in question.

  I need to see her. “I’m changing my destination. I’m going to New York.”

  26

  Eliza

  I hit apply, and I smile with a sense of accomplishment.

  I’m going home, back to San Francisco, and back to my old life.

  Sans Nathan, of course, but I’m not staying in New York and hiding from heartache like a coward anymore.

  I’m okay, and I’m strong enough to be in the same city as him now.

  I’ve rented an apartment in my old neighborhood, and I’m looking forward to catching up with my old friends. I’m going back to my beloved hospital, and I’m starting again.

  I can’t believe I let a relationship rule me for so long. Even in grief, it controlled my thought patterns.

  I mean, I know why I left.

  But, I had to clear the last ten years from my hard drive and it was successful. It has finally been erased. Took its time.

  There’s no denying that the six weeks in Nathan’s arms were beautiful and soul changing. In the end, though, it was tragic.

  But it was just six weeks, and for every week we were together, I spent a month grieving it’s loss. Six weeks in love. Six months to recover.

  I go to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I reapply my lipstick and fluff up my hair.

  Henry Morgan is in town, and tonight, we are going on a date.

  I’m not nervous. I’m excited.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m thinking about me and my needs. I’m wearing a fitted black dress that has a low neckline and long sleeves. The skirt is tight, and it falls to just below my knee. My sky-high, strappy stilettos seal the deal.

  I smile as I turn and look at myself in the full-length mirror. I rearrange my boobs in my bra and push them up.

  I look good. I look like myself. Who I really am, before all this victim of heartbreak crap. I grab my purse and my keys, and I head out.

  I’m meeting Henry at the bar of his hotel.

  I smile to myself as I ride down to the ground floor in the elevator. Here I go.

  Bring it.

  Nathan

  I get into the cab. “Where to?” the driver asks.

  “The Four Seasons, downtown, please.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He pulls out into the traffic and I look out the window. I love New York. It has a buzz that can be found nowhere else on Earth. I watch on as the cab drives through the suburbs, into the city.

  I go over what I want to say tonight. It’s all I’ve thought about for a week. I have prepared a speech in my head. She might be working, but that’s okay.

  I’m closer to her than I have been in six months, and I can wait till tomorrow if I have to.

  I click on the Find My Phone app—my constant companion over the last six months. I used to have it as a necessity as Eliza lost her phone every second day.

  But now the necessity is for a different reason. Purely indulgent. It tells me where she is, tells me when she’s working, and it calms me that she’s safe. I’ve spent more time watching Eliza’s little red dot over the last six months than I have anything else.

  The dot is closer now—so much closer—and hope fills me as I wait for it to find her. I watch it blink as it searches, and then it flashes as it locks on. There she is.

  It’s moving. She must be in a cab.

  I smile as I watch it, feeling closer to her already.

  I’ll drop my bags at the hotel and shower, and then I’m going to find her.

  My eyes roam over the passing traffic as we enter the city.

  Eliza. I’m coming, baby.

  Eliza

  I walk into the bustling bar and glance around. It’s packed with suits. There are literally men everywhere I look. I feel a buzz of excitement as I feel eyes rest on me. It’s like I finally have an open for business sign on my forehead.

  “Eliza.”

  I look over and see Henry approaching me, and I break into a broad smile. He pulls me into a hug and holds me tight.

  “It’s so good to see you.” He holds my hand as he steps back to look at me. “Dear God, woman, how have you gotten hotter?”

  I laugh.

  “Let’s go,” he says as he drains his glass and puts it down onto a nearby table.

  “You don’t want to stay and have a drink here?” I ask.

  “No, Eliza.” He replies flatly. “Every man and his dog is eyeing my date.”

  I smile bashfully. Oh shit. He thinks it’s a date, too. Now, nerves really do dance in my stomach. “Okay.”

  He leads me out of the bar and onto the busy sidewalk. “I thought we could go to a restaurant on Fifth. I’ve been before, and the food and cocktails are incredible.”

  “Okay, I’m easy.”

  He chuckles with a wink, and I roll my eyes.

  “You know what I mean.” I scoff.

  He puts his hand up and hails a cab. Moments later, we arrive at our destination. He helps me out of the cab and then we walk down eight stairs, and in through the grand, black front doors. This place looks exclusive, and the restaurant is below street level. Large windows look up at the busy surroundings. It’s dark and moody, and just… wow.

  “Hi, I had a table booked for Morgan.”

  “Yes, of course. This way, sir.” The server leads us through, and we sit at a table near the front windows. Candles flicker on the table, and she hands us our me
nus. “The house specials tonight are the seafood platter, a mushroom gnocchi with arugula and walnut pesto, and then we have a snapper in a garlic sauce with honey-roasted vegetables. Our dessert specials are a freshly made macadamia crunch ice cream with chocolate coated strawberries, and then the chocolate parfait.”

  “Thank you.” I smile. “Sounds good.”

  “What would you like to drink?” she asks.

  I frown over to Henry. “Wine?”

  “I don’t drink wine,” he says, distracted by the menu in front of him. “You get whatever you want. I’ll have a beer, thanks.” I fake a smile. I’m so used to me and Nathan having the same tastes in everything. “I’ll have a margarita, please.”

  “Okay.” She smiles and takes off toward the bar.

  Henry’s mischievous eyes come to me. He takes my hand across the table. “Have you missed me?”

  I giggle. “No.”

  That’s not a lie. I haven’t missed him at all, and to be honest, I’m beginning to wonder why I’m even here. I’m not feeling any chemistry. It’s like I’m here with my brother.

  Ugh…focus.

  “So, tell me about New York.” He smiles.

  I put my hands up. “Here we are. I love New York.”

  “You’re enjoying it?”

  “Very much. I’m coming home, though, next week.”

  “What?” He frowns.

  I laugh at his shocked face. “I’m moving back to San Fran.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “My contract was up here and… ” I pause as I think of the right wording. “It’s time.”

  “So, what does the guard dog think about that?”

  I roll my lips. Don’t go there. I rearrange the napkin on my lap. “Nathan and I broke up,” I say.

  “Yes, I know. That’s why you left.” He smiles sarcastically as he sits back. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

  “Here you are.” The waitress puts our drinks on the table in front of us.

  “Thank you.” I take a sip of my margarita and I inwardly wince. Fuck, that’s strong. It tastes like hand sanitizer. What kind of tequila is this? “Why do you say that?” I ask as I fight the urge to shiver in disgust. How the hell am I supposed to drink this rocket fuel?

  “His over the top jealousy of you.”

  I watch him and take another sip. Oh hell, this drink is bad. Real bad.

  “He was obsessed with you.”

  I smile sadly. I was obsessed with him. “Oh, well, that’s in the past.” I need to change the subject. “Tell me about you. Are you still booty-calling your ex?”

  He chuckles. “No. I found a new booty-call girl, though.”

  I laugh. Henry and his honesty. No man says that on a date. “You have? Is she hot?”

  “So hot.” He takes my hand, picks it up, and kisses my fingertips. “Not as hot as you.”

  I get an internal running commentary of what Nathan’s dry reply to that statement would be, and I smile. “Well, I’m flattered.”

  He winks, totally oblivious to his comment, and I drop my head and smile.

  Oh man, who was I kidding? I don’t like Henry Morgan.

  He’s a twit.

  Over the next four hours, I listen to Henry ramble on, and while he’s a great guy and a lovely friend, I’m feeling nothing.

  Zero connection.

  But I don’t think he’s feeling the same because he keeps kissing my hand and talking about the places he wants to take me when I get home.

  Oh jeez, how do I get myself into these situations?

  “I have to get going soon.” I smile. “I have an early shift in the morning.”

  “A nightcap at my hotel first?” He smiles hopefully.

  “Ah.” I frown. “I’m not…” I pause as I try to think of the perfect wording for my let down. “I’m not really ready for a nightcap, Henry.”

  “Oh.” His face falls. “Really? I was totally feeling it.”

  I giggle in surprise. “You were?”

  “Totally.” He smiles playfully. “Wait till you kiss me goodbye. Then you’ll change your mind.”

  “Oh, I will, will I?”

  “Yeah.” He raises his hand to the waitress for the check. “You’ll be begging to be nightcapped by me.”

  “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” I laugh as I play along.

  Ten minutes later, we walk out of the restaurant and out onto the street. There’s a cab rank just outside, and we walk to it. He takes my hand in his and turns me toward him. He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear as we stare at each other. I want to know if there is anything here. I need to know once and for all.

  “Is this where you kiss me goodbye?” I ask.

  He leans in and his lips slowly take mine. His hands rise to my face, and he kisses me deeper. A little tongue, a little angst, and a whole lot of nice.

  He kisses me again, and my eyes close.

  Okay, maybe we could work with this.

  He kisses me again. “Come back to my hotel,” he whispers against my lips.

  His words snap me out of the moment, and I come back to reality with a thud. “I can’t.”

  I step back from him. He grabs my hand so I can’t totally escape and smiles over at me. “I’ll see you when you get back then?”

  I nod.

  He steps forward and kisses me again. It’s soft and tender, and his lips linger over mine.

  “I have to go.” I turn and open the door of the closest cab, and he waves and then gets into the cab in front of me.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asks as we wait for Henry’s cab to pull out.

  “Forty-second, please.” I look out of the window, and straight into the stare of Nathan.

  He’s standing against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his oversized coat.

  He’s glaring at me. I can feel his fury as if it is a tangible force.

  Oh fuck.

  He was right behind us the whole time.

  Henry.

  Of all the times.

  I drag my eyes from his. Is it a coincidence that he was here? Anxiety takes over. “Just… just drive please,” I stammer to the driver.

  He gestures to the congested road in front. “Traffic, lady.”

  The door of the cab opens, and Nathan gets into the backseat beside me. He slams the door behind him.

  “What are you doing?” I snap.

  “Henry Morgan?” he whispers angrily. “You’re with Henry fucking Morgan?” He gasps. “I’ve been heartbroken for six months to find out that you ….” The veins are sticking out of his forehead. “To find out you’ve been with him all along.” He’s furious.

  “What? No.” My face falls. Why is, I’ve been heartbroken for six months the only thing I heard in that sentence? “Go home to Robert, Nathan.” I snap.

  “What?” He erupts.

  “You heard me.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “You’re five months too late Nathan. Go away.” I glare at him, and then I turn to the driver. “Can you kick this man out of the cab, please? He’s uninvited.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Nathan whispers angrily.

  The driver holds his hands up. “Come on, lady, what do you want from me?”

  “Right. That’s it.” I get out of the cab and begin to march up the sidewalk on a mission.

  I don’t know what I’m doing right now, but I do know that I don’t want to be sucked into Nathan’s world again. I’ve only just gotten out of it, and I can’t let myself go back there.

  He hurt me too fucking much.

  I hear the cab door slam behind me, and I know that Nathan is hot on my heels.

  He grabs my arm and spins me toward him. “Eliza. Stop.”

  “Go away.” My emotions boil over and my eyes fill with tears. “Just… just leave me alone.”

  “I read the letter.”

  “Huh?”

  “I read it this week.”

  My eyes bulge from their sockets as
I completely lose my cool. “What?” I shriek. “Are you two years old?” I turn and march off into the crowd again. I’m too angry to even talk to him. He only just read it! I can’t even deal with this man.

  He calls me from behind, “Eliza!”

  “Go home to Robert, Nathan. I don’t want to talk to you.” I march on.

  He grabs my arm and pulls me back to face him. “Jesus Christ, woman, will you listen to me for one fucking minute? I’m not with Robert. I was never with Robert.”

  “I saw the pictures of Ibiza, Nathan.”

  He frowns, as if confused.

  “At your mother’s. I saw the photos.” I splutter, “How can you still lie to me after all this time? Did our friendship mean nothing to you at all?”

  “We were on a Contiki reunion trip with twenty other people, Eliza. Separate rooms and very limited speaking. There is nothing with fucking Robert, like I told you.” His eyes search mine. “You left me for Henry Morgan?”

  “No.” I sigh. God, how this must look? “That’s the first time I have seen Henry since I left… not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You kissed him?”

  “Yes.” I throw my hands up. “I kissed him, all right.”

  “What else have you been doing?”

  I stare at him, and a pull toward him overwhelms me. He’s so familiar.

  So loved.

  “Lying on the couch crying over you, Nathan.” My eyes fill with tears at how pathetic I must sound. “So stay the fuck away from me, okay?”

  His face falls and he pulls me close. “Baby.”

  “Don’t.” I struggle to break out of his arms, and he holds me tight against my will. “Let me go.” I struggle, and finally break free. I push him hard in the chest and he stumbles back. He shakes his head, knowing that I’ve completely lost my shit.

  “I just want to talk.” He splutters.

  “You’re too late.”

  “I can’t move on until we do.”

  He wants to move on.

  My strength returns. “Fine.” I drop my shoulders as I prepare for war. “Let’s talk. You have exactly ten minutes.” I march into the closest bar and take a seat at a high table. He tentatively sits down beside me. The waitress approaches.