Page 63 of Fighting Words

He heads for the refrigerator to get the cream for me. He doesn’t take his coffee with cream, so the fact that he goes out of his way every morning to get it for me is just…well, it’s a real problem. I need him to start acting cruel or arrogant or selfish. That would help me sleep easier at night. I would love to hate this man.

I finally gain the courage to look up as he steps close and drops the cream on the counter. Instead of leaving, he rests his hip beside it and tilts his head, studying me while we wait for the coffee to finish brewing.

If that’s what we’re doing, I’ll study him right back. No problem. He hasn’t completely shaved his face since the day of my bicycle accident, but he’s consistent about trimming his scruff now. I’ve thought about thisa lot, and I think his facial hair is a sort of barometer for his feelings. By not shaving, he’s telling me, point-blank, that he’s uninterested in any more kissing.

“You seem tired,” he says with a look of concern.

I roll my eyes. “Well at least you didn’t say Ilooktired. That would be worse.”

“No, you look fine.”

Fine is said with a harsh edge like it was hard for him to comment on my looks at all, much less in a slightly positive way.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” I shrug.

At night, I’ve been thinking about him and Andrew and my life as it currently stands, which is not exactly dream material.

“I can get you a better pillow if that’s part of the problem.”

The coffee pot sputters and hisses, forcing out a few last drips before finishing up.

I shake my head. “It’s fine. Thanks though.” I take the pot and pour him a full cup before pouring some for myself.

“I think we need to take a break today.”

I’m taking a sip of coffee so I have to rely on my eyebrows to do the talking for me. They arch up toward my hairline with his suggestion.No work?!

He nods, almost smiling. “It wouldn’t kill us, and I’m already way behind schedule. What’s one more day?”

It’s true, actually. Over the last week, I’ve stayed in contact with Joy, emailing her whenever I make it into town. She’s ecstatic that things seem to be working between Nate and me. The fact that we’re still plotting is a cause for celebration as far as she’s concerned, and I don’t think they’re interested in rocking the boat or adding any undue pressure onto Nate or me. As long as we’re chipping away at the third book, she’s happy, especially considering that so many people at InkWell assumed Nate would never start it at all.

“Do you have plans?” I ask.

He runs his fingers through his hair. It’s wavier than usual this morning—perfect.

“I need to stock up on a few things from a real grocery store, so I was going to head into Kendal.” My intrigue must be evident because he smiles timidly and asks, “Do you want to come?”

“Yes!”

I’ve been cooped up in the cottage for far too many days. I haven’t even made it into Sedbergh since Tuesday. Andrew and I had a long conversation during his lunch break at work that day. It was a phone call I wasn’t looking forward to at all. Over the weekend, I’d gone back and forth on whether I wanted to tell Andrew about my hookup. On one hand, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings for no reason. If Nate and I aren’t going to continue pursuing each other, there’s an argument for not telling Andrew about it at all.

On the other hand, my relationship with Andrew feels like it’s barely surviving. If I keep a secret this big from him, there’s a possibility it’ll become the final nail in the coffin for us.

So while I sat on a park bench, in the cold, outside Sedbergh’s coffee shop, I called Andrew and ripped off the Band-Aid.

“I kissed someone else this weekend” is how I initially broached the subject.

He was silent for a long pause, digesting my confession.

“Okay.” He was trying so hard to keep the judgment out of his tone, and I really appreciated that. I knew it must have been hard for him.

“We didn’t have sex, but—”

He cut me off quickly. “If you want to tell me everything that happened, you can, Summer. But also, you don’t owe me anything. We talked about this. I want us to be in a relationship, taking the next steps, moving in together.” He sighed, and I knew he was rubbing his hand down his face, exhausted by me. “You’re not ready. I know that. But I felt like I couldn’t keep going on like we were forever.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize. Remember? When I asked for a break, we agreed we could see other people.”

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