Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Bagels? Muffins? Doughnuts?”
“Whatever.” Even doughnuts held little appeal.
“I’ll pick up Maren and doughnuts and coffee. We should be there in about an hour.”
“Okay.” I hung up, and a few minutes later dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower. I turned the water on and while I waited for it to heat up, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. My eyes, ringed beneath with dark circles, were bloodshot and dull. My eyelids puffy. My complexion sallow. I looked at my naked body and remembered how beautiful I’d felt in his arms, and wanted to cry all over again. Once I was in the shower, I let myself have one more good cry, and then I vowed to shed no more tears over Nate Pearson.
Afterward, I felt slightly more human, but I didn’t have the energy to blow-dry my hair, so when I answered my sisters’ knock, I was dressed in leggings and a sweater, but with my hair still damp. They each gave me a hug.
We sat down in the living room, Stella and I on the couch and Maren cross-legged on the floor.
“Stella told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Maren asked. “You look so sad.”
“I am sad.” Even a cruller wasn’t making me feel better, although I was eating it, anyway.
“So he asked for space out of the blue?” Stella questioned. “That really surprises me, after seeing you two together Friday night.”
“You and me both,” I said. “But he told me that was an act. That he was just saying the things he thought I wanted to hear. And I was the one who asked for total honesty at the start, so…” I shrugged.
“But do you think he was being honest?” Stella asked, setting her coffee cup on the table. “Or was he panicking and thinking, Whoa, I better take a step back.”
“That’s a good point.” Maren nodded. “Maybe he wasn’t acting Friday night. Maybe he was acting last night.”
I shook my head. “Stop. I can’t even wrap my head around that. I didn’t want any games this time around, you know? And what would he have to panic about? I wasn’t pushing him. I wasn’t asking for anything. And I sure as hell wasn’t crowding him—if anything, he was the one taking us to the next level each time.”
“That’s what I mean,” Stella said thoughtfully. “Maybe he scared himself.”
“And then took it out on her?” Maren asked.
Stella nodded. “Right. Broke it off so he wouldn’t have to deal with true feelings of intimacy, which he’s admitted being uncomfortable with.”
“But he didn’t break it off,” I said, reaching for another cruller, feeling like a broken heart justified two of them. “He was all, Emme, this doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other, and I was like, Uh, yeah, Nate, it does. You just told me you lied to me.”
“Oh my God. He probably thought you’d still come over and have sex.” Maren rolled her eyes.
“Or,” said Stella, “He was forcing you to do the leaving, so that he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it. He could even blame you for the breakup.”
“That’s kind of messed up,” Maren said.
“You know what? He is kind of messed up right now.” I took a bite of my cruller and thought for a moment. “The whole fatherhood thing forced him to reevaluate his life. He’s dealing with huge changes, in himself and in his future. Plus we went to his mom’s house yesterday, and—” I shook my head—“it was emotional for him, because he lost his little brother to cancer when he was twelve. The house holds a lot of painful memories.”
“That’s sad, but it doesn’t give him an excuse to be a jerk.” Maren reached for her cup.
“No, but it might help explain it,” said Stella. “All those changes might have snowballed in a way that made him feel really threatened all at once. And the house is a reminder of someone he loved and lost.”
“Still,” I said, “he was a total dick and he knows it.” I told them about how I’d ended up going over to his apartment in the middle of the night. “And before I left, he asked me if I hated him, and I think he expected me to say yes.”
“What did you say?” Maren asked.
“I told him the truth. That I don’t hate him, I hate what he did. And I hate myself for falling for his act.” My throat went dangerously tight, and I had to take a few deep breaths to prevent a meltdown.
Stella reached over and patted my leg. “Don’t blame yourself, Emme. This is not your fault.”
But I couldn’t help feeling like it was.
We were silent a moment before Maren started giggling. “I’m sorry, but I keep imagining Nate’s face when you handed him that rectal thermometer.”