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“Second floor means safety,” Debbi reminded her, close on her heels. “And also, just in case, it means you won’t flood.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Colby said. “Stop your realtor-speak and let me grumble.”
They’d been carrying boxes for a few hours. Colby didn’t really have that much, but moving had a way of making possessions multiply. At least, it felt that way carrying boxes up the flight of stairs. At least she didn’t have much furniture. She had gotten rid of almost everything when she moved into Liz’s house. Most of her things had been from consignment stores anyway. She had done the math and realized that she could actually save money by getting rid of it all, renting a smaller storage unit for things she didn’t keep at Liz’s, and buying all new furniture at the end of the year.
Of course, now she was moving out eight months early, which meant no furniture and definitely no money to buy anything nice or new. It would be back to the consignment stores—or, given the fact that she’d also given up her steady job for the year, maybe thrift stores. For now, she had a bed that Jane was getting rid of as she made one of their guest room into a nursery. It was a day-bed, but that was fine. Colby wasn’t picky about mattresses or sleeping. She’d have to go out later and get a kitchen table of some kind and some seating for the living area. And a rug. Maybe a rug first. Because until she got somewhere to sit, she’d be sitting on the floor or the daybed.
Colby stopped in the kitchen to snag a bottle of water. Debbi had brought a big pack of them and stuck them in the fridge. They weren’t cold yet, but it still felt good to drink. Debbi stopped as well, and they stood in the kitchen, guzzling water.
“This place is going to be really perfect for you,” Debbi said. “I wasn’t sure at first.”
“I think so too,” Colby said. And she did. But she couldn’t help the way the corners of her mouth turned down. She turned away, pretending to look at the expanse of the living area.
This wasn’t her plan. It wasn’t her dream. She had started finding contentment, with all of these things until Nate. And Napper. Until she started getting a glimmer of hope that she might have a different future. The one that she’d always wanted: the romantic but realistic dream of falling in love, getting married, and building a perfectly imperfect life together. Nowhere in this plan was she twenty-six, jobless, and living alone in a garage apartment with no furniture.
“You okay?” Debbi said.
Colby sighed. “Fine. Just tired.”
“Uh huh. Thinking about Nate again?”
Colby didn’t bother denying it. Nate was all that she had been thinking about in the past three days since he left. She hated that he was stuck in her head and in her heart. When he disappeared back in college, she had dealt with that loss. She felt stupid, mourning over a guy that she hadn’t even been on a single date with.
Now she was in the same exact spot—mourning a loss of something she never had. She didn’t want to admit to anyone, not even really to herself, how broken-up she was about him. Over the years, she told herself that she’d inflated her feelings for Nate. They’d bonded in the back of class. They were friends. That’s it. Anything more was imaginary. How could you fall so hard for someone you barely knew?
There was no imagining how she felt now. This wasn’t friendship and it wasn’t a crush. Somehow, she loved this man. She loved him back then, falling for his sweet nature, his funny notes in class, his kind eyes. Being trapped in Liz’s house with him only amplified her feelings and revealed how strong they were. She loved Nate.
Which made her feel even more sick at his betrayal. Part of her wanted to be flattered that he had gone to so much trouble to find her and reconnect. But she felt raw and exposed that he had used sneaky ways to do it. He built an app and used that to track her down, connect with her under a secret name, and then get a job where he’d be in contact with her where she lived.
All he had to do was call her at any point in the last four years and tell the truth. That’s all. Simple, truthful. Was that too much to ask? Why go through so much trouble instead of being honest?
It was hard to reconcile that idea with the Nate who made her s’mores and boarded up the windows of a house that wasn’t even hers. He’d spent the day with people in the neighborhood, cutting up the fallen tree and picking up debris. Serving without expecting anything in return.
“Don’t let him get back in your head,” Debbi said, drawing her back out of her thoughts.
“It’s really hard,” said Colby. “I just don’t understand it. Any of it. What happened then and what he did now. It just makes no sense.”
“He’s just a lying jerk. The faster you get over him, the better you’ll feel. Oh! And there’s this new guy in my hubby’s office that he thinks would be perfect for you. We were thinking of having a low-key dinner where you both just happen to be there. How’s that sound?”
“Great,” Colby said.
It wasn’t great. That’s not what she wanted to say. She wanted to defend Nate. He wasn’t a lying jerk. She felt certain that there was something else underneath it all. An explanation that would reconcile his actions with the man who comforted her during the storm and made her feel safe. The one who made her laugh with his quick wit and quirky humor.
But if there was an explanation, why wouldn’t he give it to her? She gave him every chance. She made it easy. All he had to do was say the words.
If he felt anything for her like she did for him, he would have been able to say it out loud. But he couldn’t, so he must not. Whatever feelings he seemed to have didn’t match hers and once again, she let him crush her.
Without saying anything more to Debbi, Colby started down the stairs. At the bottom, her phone began ringing. She had it in the back pocket of her jeans. The number wasn’t familiar. She hesitated. Lately she’d been getting lots of calls from telemarketers, leaving voicemails that started in the middle of the message, which must have started playing the moment the phone picked up. Maybe she could get off the list if she answered.
“Take me off your list!” she said as she picked up.
There was a pause. A man spoke, sounding confused. “Is this Colby?”
“Yeah.” Didn’t sound like a telemarketer. She stifled a giggle. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. I get those too. Listen, this is Zane. I don’t know if you remem—”
“I remember you.”
