Page 131 of Ten Years and Then…
Nora didn’t know how she made it through dinner. She was barely holding her emotions in; from minute to minute, she didn’t know if she wanted to scream, or cry or a hundred other things.
Greg could tell—it was impossible not to notice—but he didn’t try to guess what was going on. He just spent the whole meal quietly comforting her, reassuring her that everything was fine, that she’d feel better tomorrow.
All that did was make her feel worse.
Now they were back in the cabin, and he led her to the bed, sat down next to her. He took her hands in his. “Nora, I don’t know what’s the matter. But you can tell me anything, don’t you know that by now? If it’s something I did, you can say it. I want to make it right.”
She didn’t say anything. He was just sitting there, staring hard at her, his hands shaking.
“I think I know,” he said, finally. “You’ve been waiting for me. Because I haven’t said it yet. I don’t even know why not. But I thought you could tell anyway. Nora, I love …”
She heard herself shrieking, and felt her eyes burning and the tears streaming down her cheeks like a flood. She pulled her hands back from him so violently that he jumped away from her.
“No! You can’t! Because I don’t love you!” She couldn’t hold the words in anymore. “I love him! Daniel! I always have, I never stopped, not for a minute, from the day we met! And I hate this! I hate—it’s not right, you don’t deserve this! I thought I could get over him and love someone else like—like a normal person, like everybody else does, they get over their first love and they can be with other people, they can love other people…”
Her voice failed. She could barely see through her tears, but Greg was on the sofa now. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or scared or horrified or, hell, maybe all of them at once.
“Nora, if this is—I don’t know, some kind of joke—I know I don’t always get your sense of humor …” His voice was shaky, barely controlled.
She took a deep breath, then another, trying to gather herself. It didn’t really work, but she had to continue anyway, she owed him the whole truth. She got up, went over to the little desk and fished into her purse. “Here, see this?” She held up the pen. “He gave this to me. Right before he graduated, so I’d always know he was rooting for me. So I’d never forget him. And I never did. No matter how much I tried. Not even after you asked me out, and we started going together seriously.”
He grunted. “You said Daniel. That’s who the woman at the beach said, too. Is that him? Is he on this ship right now?” He wasn’t looking at her; he was staring at the door now. As though he was ready to walk right out of the cabin and go looking for Daniel.
“Yes. He’s probably telling her about me right now. We didn’t know before the cruise. Neither of us had any idea we’d see each other. It was—I don’t know. A big, fat cosmic joke on us.”
His face was reddening, and his hands were balled up into fists. “It’s not funny, Nora.”
Whatever self-control she had failed again. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m enjoying this? I tried so hard! I wanted this to work! I wanted to love you, I wish I could have! This isn’t who I want to be, a liar and a cheater and every other horrible thing you want to call me right now.” She closed her eyes, forced her voice down somehow. “I’m not that. I’m not her. I haven’t been her in years, because of Daniel. Because he taught me—he taught me how I deserve to be loved.”
Greg didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did speak, there was nothing but bitterness there. “And he taught you that only he could love you that way.”
Nora shook her head. “No. That’s all me. I guess—I think I never believed anybody but him could see me that way. And that’s not fair to you. None of this is. But—I swear to you, I never meant for any of this to happen. I really thought it could be different. It’s been so long, it’s been years and I thought—I hoped it was time. And it’s just … not. Because he’s still got my heart. And I have his, and I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”
He was silent for a while again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now. I—I believe you. But that doesn’t make anything any better. I—I can’t keep talking about this now.”
Neither could she. “I know. I’ll go. I can stay in the solarium tonight, and tomorrow—we can figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.”
She got up again, grabbed her purse and her soft, faded T-shirt and her sweatpants, and she walked out the door without another word. She pulled it closed behind her, and took the sign and the magnets off the door. Greg didn’t need to see them the next time he left the cabin. She’d hurt him more than enough already.
Daniel, November 13, five o’clock in the morning
Leanne was gently snoring; she’d finally fallen asleep around midnight. It had taken Daniel another hour to fall into a restless, uncomfortable sleep that had nothing to do with the sofa.
Moving as slowly and quietly as he could, he put his shoes on and tiptoed out the door, closing it gently behind him.
If he knew Nora at all, she would have told Greg the truth last night. She wouldn’t have been able to stop herself after meeting Leanne. And if he threw her out afterwards, or she felt too guilty to sleep on the sofa in her cabin, she would have headed to the same place he’d thought about.
The lights were dim in the corridors, and there were no other passengers in the elevator. It was eerily quiet as he made his way up to the solarium.
It was deserted when the automatic door slid open for him, except for one crew member mopping the floor over in the far corner, near the entrance to the spa.
And one other person—a woman—stretched out on a pool chair near the snack bar, under a bunch of towels serving as a makeshift blanket.
He walked up to her quietly, not wanting to startle her.
She was already awake, staring up at the pre-dawn sky through the glass ceiling.
“Daniel. I knew you’d come.”
