Page 64 of Never With You
I step back, carefully extracting myself from his grip. “When?”
“When I first got on the boat.”
“It’s so unlike you to follow through with something.”
“Is it? Or is that just the story you tell yourself?”
“I’ve worked with you for nine months. I think I have a pretty good grasp on your work ethic.” I glance around aimlessly, itching for a job.
“Just relax.” He picks up two champagne glasses from the nearby waiter and hands one to me. “There’s nothing to do right now but be my adoring girlfriend.”
“Pretendto be your adoring girlfriend.”
I sip the drink, feeling the buzz trickle down my throat. My eyes stop on Mack Farnsworth and the permanent frown etched into his expression.
“Your father is a real treat—unlikable in every way. I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.” I laugh. “Talk about family dysfunction. He’s got you and your mom walking on eggshells around him.”
It’s not until I face Nate that I see his stiffened body.
His hand pauses mid-air before his glass reaches his lips, visible hurt written across his face. “Thanks,” he mutters.
“Nate, I…” My head shakes with instant remorse. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine.” His words are crisp. “But for all the times you say what a jerk I am, can we just remember that when it mattered to you, I didn’t say anything about your family? I just walked out of your parents' house and never brought it up again. But you…”—he turns to me with wounded eyes—“you wasted no time judging me and my parents.”
My chest falls. “You’re right. You were great about my family. I should’ve returned the favor. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Whatever. Let’s just forget about it.”
Shame fills every crevice of my heart. I stand disgraced while he focuses straight ahead. The heavy guilt weighs me down relentlessly. It will gnaw and gnaw for days unless I make it right.
“It’s because of my parents,” I say, trying to match vulnerability with vulnerability.
Despite his silence, I press on, hoping to make amends.
“The reason I turn into a control freak whenever something needs to get done.” He doesn’t say anything or even look at me, but I keep going. “Growing up in a house like mine, I had to take care of everything, or it wouldn’t get done. It’s not like my parents were negligent. Just busy and overwhelmed with kids. So I was the only first grader responsible for reminding my mom when the parent-teacher conference was. I kept track of our entire family schedule when I should’ve been learning how to be a carefree kid. The grocery shopping, cleaning, sign-ups, and practice schedules all fell on me. From a young age, I learned how to be in charge and run things, and now it’s hard for me to tone that down.”
Somewhere in the middle of my speech, Nate glanced at me. “That’s a lot for a kid to handle.”
“The running joke became that I’m OCD and have to be in charge of everything. I was always fine with the teasing. I am those things. I was even proud of how responsible I was.” My eyes skip to Isaac. “But when somebody tells you you’re a control freak who’s unbearable to be around and that they're breaking up with you because your personality is too strong and you suck the fun out of life, you start to get a complex about the traits you once thought were strengths.”
Nate’s jaw hardens in a way I’ve only seen once before—when he first told me about his dad. “Isaac said all of that?”
I shrug, not strong enough to do anything more.
A bitter laugh bursts from his lips as he scrutinizes Isaac up and down. “I long to have the confidence of a mediocre man telling his smoking-hot girlfriend she could be better.”
My brows draw together.Smoking-hot girlfriend?
The compliment momentarily strips me of my dislike, making me feel exposed and bare without it. His words sound genuine, even concerned, and I feel my heart softening toward him in a way that’s not familiar, a way that’sdangerous.
Before I have the chance to fortify my defenses, Nate grabs my hand. A shot of warmth rockets up my arm, and my first response is to yank my hand away, but his fingers close around me, keeping it in his.
“There you two are.” Connie smiles between us. “I’ve been looking for you. Dad and I have two open seats right by us at the head table. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
At the sight of his mom, I relax my fingers as much as a person with a racing heart can.
“That sounds great,” Nate says in a surprising turn of events. “We’ll get our plates and then come over.”
