Meeting Mr. Wright

by Cassie Cross

  “This is disgusting,” I say, pointing at a pair of boxers that are hanging off of a globe on his desk. I don’t even want to know about the chain of events that led to that particular item of clothing being flung there. “Is this what your bedroom looks like in your apartment?”

  Gabby throws her hairbrush in her luggage and looks up at me like I’ve grown a second head. “It’s like you don’t know me at all,” she teases. “I told him to go ahead and be as sloppy as he wanted to be this week, because once that ring is on his finger he won’t be throwing his dirty laundry everywhere.”

  “The ring is already on his finger,” I say quietly.

  Gabby looks down at her hand and grins. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “I put about a hundred condoms in your bag, so you guys are all set there.” Jasmine, the true ambassador for safe sex. “Don’t let him knock you up right away. You guys need some time to just chill and be married. And that corporate ladder is harder to climb when you’ve got an infant hanging off of your arm.”

  “Infants don’t hang,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes. “Do you even know anything about babies?”

  “No,” Jasmine replies. She looks positively disgusted. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

  “Pay attention to that sage advice,” I say, pointing at Jas as I walk over and sit on the top of the suitcase, trying to help condense its contents to the point where one of us will hopefully be able to zip the damn thing.

  “Take lots of pictures of the Seine,” Jasmine says. “An obscene amount of pictures.”

  Shelby sighs. “They’re going to have better things to do than provide artwork for your ten thousandth living room renovation.”

  “Yeah,” I say, finally able to move the zipper along the top side of the bag. “Like buying me a vintage Chanel clutch. Cream or black, please.”

  Gabby’s standing in front of the mirror that hangs over Ben’s dresser, wrapping a pretty silk scarf around her neck. She leans forward, running her finger along the bottom of her lip to clean off any stray lipstick, then puckers her lips. It takes her a few seconds to turn to us, and when she does she’s smiling. The tears shining in her eyes threaten to fall.

  “It’s the end of an era,” Jasmine says. She has a tendency to be a little dramatic, but I can’t help but agree with her.

  Gabby’s married. She’s someone’s wife. She has a husband. It’s surreal to me, even though I’ve had nearly a year to get used to the idea of it.

  Jasmine and Shelby hug her, and she turns to me last.

  “Congratulations,” I whisper as my arms slide around her. “Gabby Morgan-Wright.”

  She squeezes me as she lets out a laugh. It must be weird for her to hear her new name. The three of us follow her out the door, and she takes my hand as we walk down the stairs and into the living room where Ben is waiting for her. I hug him before I walk out the front door and past the waiting crowd of people, down the steps and to the edge of the driveway, just behind the car where Nate is standing. Jack comes out, a suitcase in either hand as he helps the driver load them into the trunk of the town car that’s waiting. The door opens and Ben and Gabby walk out to applause and well wishes, hugging people as they gradually make their way to their ride. When they reach Nate and me, we all exchange hugs one more time before they disappear into the car.

  I look around as I wait for them to drive away. Jack’s arm is wrapped around Amy’s shoulder, her head resting against his chest. Jessa’s wrapped in her husband Ryan’s arms, her back pressed against him and her sleeping daughter’s head cradled in the crook of her neck. There’s so much love in this family.

  And then there’s Nate and me.

  The two of us are standing side by side, but we’re a world apart.

  LONG AFTER all the guests have left and the house is quiet, I wander out to the porch and turn the fireplace on to its lowest setting, just to give me a little bit of warmth. I sit down on one of the wicker loveseats and watch the flames flicker and cast dancing shadows across the hearth. Confusion swirls around inside of me, making my stomach ache.

  Once again, I have no idea what I’m doing. I left that hotel room a week ago thinking I’d seen the last of Nate. I was okay with that, I honestly was. It was nice to have a few hours of perfection without having to worry about the real world, about anything that was happening outside of that room. Then Fate, cruel bastard that it is, had to bring him back into my life. And now…now I’m not sure if that night is enough for me, knowing he wants more. But the thing is, I don’t know if I’m all wrapped up in Nate or the idea of him. I’m scared of what would happen if I brought him into my very real life, which, let’s face it, doesn’t include a great track record when it comes to love. I don’t think I know how to make it work, at least…not right now. I don’t want to be hurt again, and the instinct for self-preservation overshadows my desire to just…be with him. I want him to be happy. I want him to have what his parents have, what his siblings have: real, deep, unwavering and unquestionable love. I want him to love and be loved by someone who can give him her whole heart without worrying about holding a part of it back for herself, just in case he breaks it.

  He deserves so much more than what I can give him.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of soft footfalls behind me. I know it’s Nate, even without looking. I can feel his presence; the inexplicable way the atmosphere around me changes when he’s near, the way he makes the air around me feel like it’s buzzing. I turn toward him and my eyes lock with his. We stare at each other for a long moment, and it’s like time just stops.

  It takes everything in me to turn away from him, but only seconds later I hear his footsteps drawing near, my pulse quickening with every inch of distance that he closes between us. He steps in front of me, and when I look up I see that his duffel bag is slung over his shoulder. The sight of it makes my heart drop all the way down to my toes.

  His eyes are so sad. The light that was there—the light that I loved seeing in them, the light that I sought out—is gone.

  “You’re leaving?” I ask, stating the obvious. My voice is shakier than I expected it would be.

  Nate’s eyebrows knit together, and he swallows as he nods slowly. “Yeah. My flight leaves early tomorrow, I’ll just get a hotel room near the airport.”

  This completely unexpected spark of anger rips through me when I hear his words, and I can’t control myself.

  “Maybe stop by the bar?” It’s a low blow, possibly the only thing I could say that would hurt him. I hate myself for even saying it; I’m not that petty and mean.

  His eyes widen in shock, like I’ve just slapped him.

  God, I’d give anything to take that back.

  “That is so fucking unfair, Callie,” he says, his voice gravely and low.

  I tilt my head down to look at my fingers, which are all knotted up in my lap. I can’t even look him in the eye. “I know,” I say. I think back to the first night that we met, how I thought he was just some playboy looking to score. Knowing him the way I do now, it seems especially unfair that I’ve chosen to use that night against him. “That night when we met you said that you had never done something like that before, and you were so at ease. I thought…” I shake my head, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. This isn’t going to help matters.

  “So, you think this is an act for me, but…I’m just supposed to take your actions at face value?” he asks. I can see the anger simmering in his eyes, so cloudy and blue.

  “I don’t think it’s an act. I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know why I did.”

  “I know why you did.” He’s gripping the handle of his bag so tightly that his knuckles are white. Oh, how I want to reach out and soothe them.

  “No you don’t,” I reply, even though I’m not entirely sure that he’s wrong.

  “I’m sorry Ethan cheated on you, Callie. And I’m sorry that you don’t think you can trust me.”

  I think I can trust him, and that’s precis
ely what my problem is. I’ve thought that so many times before, only to be let down. I don’t say anything, because I have nothing to say, really.

  “You want some kind of guarantee that I’m not Ethan, that I’m not an asshole. And you know what?” he says, raising his right arm in exasperation before it comes down and lands with a slap against the side of his thigh. He watches me with intent eyes, and I feel like he can see right through me, right to the heart of me. Like he can see everything that makes me who I am. If I were capable of doing such a thing, I almost think I’d shrink under his gaze. “I don’t think you’re scared of success or failure, of whether or not our relationship would work out. I think you’re scared of life. I think you’re scared of living.”

  “I’m scared of getting my heart broken again, Nate,” I say, and that is very much true. But what I don’t tell him is that I’m scared that my inability to fully commit might wind up breaking his. “You don’t need to read into it more than that.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?” he says, completely ignoring the last part of what I just told him. His voice is getting a little louder, and he drops his bag to the ground with a loud thud. “Do you want me to tell you that I’m not that guy, Callie? That I won’t do that? I could say those words a million times, but you wouldn’t believe it, because you don’t think you deserve someone who doesn’t treat you like shit. Your dad left, Ethan cheated on you.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before they focus on me, all clear and blue and full of hurt. “You think that’s what you get.”

  I stand up, pulled to my feet by the sudden rush of anger I’m feeling. I’ve known him one week and suddenly he thinks he’s my therapist? “You don’t know shit about me, Nate.” I practically spit out the words, but even though I’m angry and rightfully so, they don’t sound right when I say them. “How dare you throw that in my face.”

  For a moment that’s so fleeting I almost think I imagined it, he looks completely wrecked. But he doesn’t apologize; instead he takes a step forward, locking his eyes with mine. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “I know that you twirl your hair when you’re nervous,” he says, and all the anger I heard in his voice only seconds ago is completely gone. Everything about him now is just very soft. Gentle. Like the whole world hangs in the balance of this conversation. “I know that you hum off key, and that you don’t realize the effect that you have on people…the effect you have on me. I know that you say my name in your sleep, and I know you want to change the world. I know that you’ve got a smile that just…” he trails off, pressing his lips together as he taps his fingers on his chest, right over his heart. “I know that I’m falling in love with you. And I know, I know that you’re falling in love with me, too. And I know that we can spend the rest of our lives figuring out the rest.”

  When Nate finishes talking, he looks kind of stunned, like he just let everything spill out of him without even realizing that he did it.

  I am stunned. The rest of our lives rings in my ears, filling me with dread. Breaking up with Ethan hurt me, there’s no denying that. But Nate…it would be so much worse if I lost him. And I know that now, after only a week. How will I feel in a month? A year?

  “It’s not that simple,” I say, trying so hard not to cry. I want him so badly, I just can’t let myself have him. It’s so easy to be idealistic when we’re standing here thinking about forever. It would be different trying to make it work in the real world.

  Nate reaches forward, and I’m surprised when his warm hand wraps around mine because the distance between us feels too great to be spanned by just a simple touch. The pad of his thumb brushes across my knuckles, and my eyelids flutter at the contact. “It is that simple,” he says, looking down at our hands. “You’re just trying to complicate things so it’ll be easier for you to walk away from me. I know you’re thinking of the what ifs, wondering if I’m just like him; if I’m charming you now just to hurt you later.”

  “I’m not thinking it,” I say, my voice very quiet. “I’m scared of it.”

  “Maybe,” Nate replies, sighing. “But I think you’re really scared that I’m not like him. That I am who I say I am, that I can and will love you the way I say I will. That maybe this is it.”

  I look up at him, and the hope in his eyes nearly undoes me. “You’ve known me a week, Nate. How can you possibly know that?”

  He shrugs, squeezing my hand. “I just do. What difference does it make how long we’ve known each other?”

  Because it’s crazy, I want to say. Instead, I take the easy way out. “Can’t we just keep things the way they are?” I ask.

  I can see the disappointment in his face; it’s an immediate reaction the very second the words are out of my mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Just…” I can’t bring myself to say the words, and I can’t look him in the eye. I shrug and look down at the ground as his hand slips from mine. The air feels colder than it did just a second ago.

  “Sex,” he whispers, like it kills him to even say it. Like the word is…unfathomable.

  I nod. I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.

  “I can’t.” He offers me a sad smile, like he wishes he could do it but it’s just not in his genetic makeup. “Not with you.”

  “Not with me?”

  He shakes his head. “I need more.”

  Tears well up in my eyes and I blink past them as I cross my arms over my chest, trying to keep out the chill. Of course I would find the one guy who turns down sex for love. That’s the story of my pathetic life, and that’s what makes the cynical part of me start running her mouth.

  “What happens when it all goes to shit?” I ask.

  Nate closes his eyes for a moment before he brings his hand up and cups my cheek. I lean into it, loving the way his rough palm is so gentle against my skin. I think this is the last time I’m going to feel it.

  “Callie,” he sighs. “What happens when it doesn’t?”

  I look at him for a long while, not really able to give him an answer. Not the one he wants, anyway. He’s asking for my heart, and it’s not whole enough to give to anyone yet. Maybe it never will be, I don’t know.

  “Please stay,” I whisper. It’s pathetic that I’m begging, but I’ve never felt desperation like this. It’s my last night here and I want to be with him, even if we just stand like this all night, with his hand on my cheek as our only connection. I reach up and fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt, and my forehead comes to rest against Nate’s chest. It’s the strangest sensation, feeling his muscles both tighten and relax at the same time. He brings his other hand up and runs his fingers through my hair.

  “I can’t stay,” he says, pressing a kiss against the crown of my head, and I gather fistfuls of his shirt in my hands.

  He pulls me close, cradling me against him as he buries his head in my neck. And I don’t know when it happens, but suddenly his lips are on mine, very soft, very gentle. Very final. It’s the sweetest, slowest, most tender kiss anyone’s ever given me. It’s the kind of kiss that makes me feel like my whole world is ending and beginning at the same time. He pulls away quickly, like he has to make himself do it, and he picks up his bag. He walks off the porch, stopping once to turn and look at me. It’s then that I completely lose it, letting out some sad, strangled sound as I bring my hand up to my mouth to muffle my cries. This is it.

  This is it.

  I know Nate wants to come back and comfort me, but he can’t. He looks like I feel: like his heart is breaking.

  But he keeps walking.

  Alone, into the dark.

  Away from me.

  I WAKE up to a soft rapping against the door and sit up, having to squint my tired eyes against the too-bright sunlight that’s streaming through the windows.

  “Callie?” The muffled voice belongs to Amy. It’s soft and tentative, very motherly. Something about it makes tears well up in my eyes, and I’m surprised I have any tears left considering I cried myself to sleep l
ast night. My entire face feels swollen and hot.

  “Yeah?” I say, my voice all deep and raspy.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’m all right.” She’s going to know that’s a lie, but I guess I can’t have everything.

  “When you’re ready, come on into the kitchen and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “Okay.”

  Despite how awful I feel, I really am hungry, so I shuffle into the bathroom and turn the faucet to as hot as I’ll be able to tolerate. Steam fills the room before long, helping me clear my head. I step beneath the spray and let the water wash the past day away.

  Even though I do my best not to think about Nate, the more I try to avoid it, the more my traitor mind conjures up the look on his face when he’d smile at me. The salty sweet taste of his skin, the way his lips felt when they were pressed against mine. The water washes away more tears as they fall, and I wonder how I could’ve ever let him walk away? But…how could I have asked him to stay? Even now I can feel every broken part of me just barely hanging on, and if that’s all I have to offer him, maybe this is all for the best. I worry that I’m going to vacillate over this decision for the rest of my life, long past the time when Nate will have moved on, and long past the time when I should have.

  I don’t even bother to dry my hair; at this point I’m too exhausted to care about what I look like. I pin it up in a loose bun and slip on my most comfortable clothes, then I walk out of my bedroom and make my way into the kitchen.

  Amy’s sitting at the table, writing in a red leather-bound journal. She looks up at me with a sympathetic expression, then closes her book and walks over to the coffee maker. She pours me a cup and sets it on the table, then she walks over and wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in the kind of hug that only a mother can give. Here come the tears again, only this time I don’t try to stop them.

  Amy lets me cry, gently rubbing soothing circles along my back. I just can’t believe the kindness that seems to run in this family. I’ve hurt her son—she must know that I did—and yet here she is, comforting me.