Page 6 of The Story of Us
“Everyone ready?” Michael held up a small wicker basket full of torches.
“Another time, perhaps,” Nate said, holding the fire extinguisher up like a shield.
“Come on, Bee,” Sera called.
Bianca trudged after the rest of the group, her spiky heels sinking into the soft ground.
“You didn’t have to stay,” Eloise said.
Nate put the fire extinguisher down and breathed deeply. “I needed a break.”
Eloise snorted. “What you need is a bodyguard.” Beams of light from the torches bounced across the big field behind her parents’ home. Michael’s workshop was a shadowy giant in the distance.
“I don’t need a bodyguard; I need a date for this wedding who hasn’t had two hip replacements.” He’d promised to keep an eye on Joanie at the wedding.
Their eyes met across the table. If things were different, Nate wouldn’t have hesitated to ask her. Say the words: ‘How about it, Eloise? You want to come with me?’
But what could he offer her? Or any woman?
He’d never be enough for so many different reasons.
Eloise lifted one of her mother’s charred serving bowls. “Can’t imagine finding a date’s a big problem for you.”
It was when there was only one woman he wanted.
And she was the only one he’d never ever be good enough for.
3
When his phone rang, Nate woke with a start. He blinked until the blurry numbers on the screen made sense and then he groaned. This was what happened when he dodged his literary agent Garrett’s calls for a week. “It’s not even five am here.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. Now put some clothes on. I want to see your face when I tell you the best news ever.”
Nate pushed his hand through his hair and sat up, his curiosity piqued. “I’m wearing clothes.”
“Clothes you’d be happy my interns saw if they wander into my office?”
Nate looked down at his faded Utah Mountain University T-shirt and forest green flannel pyjama pants. “I’ll get a jumper,” he grumbled.
“Oh, ajumper. I love it when you speak all Aussie to me.” Garrett’s New York accent came through the line clearly. Even without seeing him right now, Nate could picture him in a funky yet professional suit, no tie, and a watch so ugly it was kind of cool. Garrett’s vintage Air Jordans would be hanging off the edge of his glass-topped desk, a Bluetooth headset in his ear. “I’m switching to video now.”
Nate snatched his Wattle Junction Wallabies jumper off the chair next to his bed, pulled it over his head and stuffed his feet into his Ugg boots. He picked up his glasses before he shuffled down the hall, stopping to pat his golden retriever, Echo, when she glared at him. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Nate James, I don’t believe it. Do you have company?”
The surprise in Garrett’s tone was almost offensive. Like Nate would answer a call if he had a woman over. Not that he ever brought anyone home. The list of people who had ever been to his house was basically Charlie, Sera and his family. No one else. The screen changed, his agent’s dark hair and deep charcoal eyes filling the frame.
“Just my number one girl.” Nate aimed his phone towards the corner of the room where Echo was stretched out on her bed, her head already buried under one of her many blankets again. He kept walking towards the kitchen.
“That makes more sense. I know you’re weird about sharing your space,” Garrett said.
Nate preferred to think of it as having solid boundaries around his home, which was one of the few places he could be himself. When the old log cabin set on two hundred acres next to his parents’ property had become available six years ago, he’d snapped it up immediately. He loved the way the home was nestled into nature and how Wattle Creek ran through his land. It was close enough that he could walk or run into Wattle Junction if he really wanted to but far enough that he couldn’t see his neighbours. It was the perfect balance of being close to his family after living away for so long while still having his own space.
“Alright, you ready?” Garrett asked.
Nate flicked his coffee machine on and checked his loaves of sourdough had risen overnight before sliding them into the oven and setting the timer. He sank onto one of the stools at his kitchen island and positioned the phone against the potted peace lily Eloise had given him for his birthday. “Let’s hear it.”
“So, I’m at a dinner. Industry thing. You know how it is. Anyway, you’ll never guess who I ran into.”
