Page 85 of Keep My Heart
He pretends not to hear me and follows me to the door. The porch light is on and I can hear the TV on inside, which means my mom’s still up. Hopefully, she’s not looking out the window, spying on me like she did when I was a teenager.
‘Have a safe trip back,’ Nick says, awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets.
‘Yeah. You too.’
‘Maybe we can talk sometime this week.’
‘Sure. If you have time.’ I look down, my heart pounding and tears stinging my eyes. Why does this hurt so much? I only spent a few days with him. How did I get so attached to him in such a short amount of time?
‘It was really good seeing you again.’
I nod, avoiding his gaze. ‘I should get inside.’
When I turn to open the door, I feel Nick’s hand on my arm. ‘Wait.’
I turn back to him and he pulls me into his arms. I breathe in his scent one last time and tuck away the memory of how this feels, to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heart beat as my head rests on his chest.
‘I wish things could be different,’ I hear him whisper.
They could be, if he’d just tell me he wants this. But he doesn’t, and he won’t. He has a life in New York and a career that takes up all his time. He’s not looking for a girlfriend. He’s not even looking for someone to date.
We’re at different places in our lives. We want different things. So as much as it hurts, I have to accept that this is goodbye.
Chapter 19
Nick
I’ve been back in New York for four days and have never been more miserable in my entire life. I used to love this city. I loved the excitement of it, the opportunities it offered, the great museums, the great restaurants. I loved my apartment.
But when I got back here Monday, everything felt different. The city seemed crowded and loud, my apartment felt cold and dark, and when I went to bed that night, I’d never felt more lonely. I tried to ignore how I was feeling and focus on work, but that, too, felt different. I didn’t even want to be there. I had hundreds of messages to follow up on after being gone for a day, and my boss yelled at me for being late to a meeting. Then he piled more work on me, so much that I stayed in the office until midnight on Monday. I was hoping to call Lyndsay that night, but I couldn’t because of work. I tried to call her Tuesday, but she didn’t pick up. Later, she sent me a text saying she was out having drinks with Diane. Then on Wednesday I had to go to a dinner for work that went until late that night, so again, I couldn’t call Lyndsay.
If things continue like this, I can’t see Lyndsay and me stayingin touch. I told myself that wouldn’t happen, but I know it will. It’s inevitable. Life gets busy, days go by, and soon it’s been weeks since you’ve talked to the person. Even if we made a real effort to talk, our calls would end once Lyndsay finds someone else. Her new boyfriend won’t want her talking to some other guy.
Why did I start something with her, knowing it could never turn into anything? I never intended for that to happen. But from the moment I saw her, that brief encounter in the airport, all the feelings I had for her back in high school came rushing back. And they just got stronger the more time I spent with her.
Now she’s all I can think about. I can’t concentrate at work. I go home to my empty apartment and wish she was there. I go to bed at night and imagine her beside me. I even have dreams about her, about us, and our future together. But there isn’t a future for us, so why can’t I let her go?
‘You going to open the door?’ Tim asks, sounding annoyed.
I wake from my thoughts and notice I’m standing in front of our office building, not moving, a Starbucks cup in my hand. I barely remember going there. Since getting back here, I feel like I’m just going through the motions, without any joy or meaning behind my actions.
‘Sorry,’ I say, opening the door.
We go into the building with its shiny white tile floors, people racing around with phones plastered to their ears. I think back to being at the orchard last weekend, being out in the fields, the open space, the stillness, the only sounds being birds chirping overhead or the leaves rustling in the breeze. It was calm. Peaceful. I didn’t have a boss yelling at me or a client demanding my attention or a slew of emails to return.
This is the life I chose, and I accept that, but it was nice to get away. I’m realizing now that I need to do that more. Like maybe this weekend. I know it’s crazy. I was just there. But the reunion’sthis weekend and Matt ran into Diane at the store and found out Lyndsay’s planning to go. What if I showed up there and surprised her? Would she be happy to see me or angry that I didn’t tell her?
What the hell am I thinking? I can’t do that. I’d be leading her on, making her think I want something we both know we can’t have. But I’m desperate to see her. I can’t take another moment of thinking about her without being able to see her or talk to her. Maybe I need closure. Maybe our goodbye on Sunday just wasn’t enough. It was too fast, too abrupt. Maybe if we’d talked more, stayed at the restaurant longer, or played another round of mini golf, our goodbye wouldn’t have seemed so unfinished and I’d be able to move on.
‘Nick?’
I look up and see Tim outside the elevator, staring at me because I’m still standing in it, not moving. I don’t even remember getting on it or going up to our floor.
‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ he asks as we’re walking down the hall. ‘You’ve been like this all week.’
‘I don’t know. I’m just tired, I guess.’
I’m more than tired. I’m exhausted. It’s after five and I have six or seven more hours of work to do before I can leave. That’s why I went with Tim to get a coffee, but I don’t think even a double espresso will be able to keep me alert enough to get my work done.
