New York
October 2018
The one thing no one ever bothered to tell me about New York was that I’d never be able to afford anything bigger than a shoebox in Manhattan on an associate’s pay. Or maybe everyone assumed I’d permanently live off Mom and Dad.
In Brooklyn, however, I could manage a small one-bedroom apartment on my own. It was a second-story walk-up in Dumbo with an actual closet, and the best part was the scent of freedom. Freedom from my parents’ expectations and their constant badgering that I use my law degree to do what I could to further their business.
“I can actually see the water from here if I stand on the couch!” Serena said from her precarious perch on the arm of the sofa. She’d been here all of an hour and was already climbing up the walls. My sister had never been good at sitting still.
“I’d be careful if I were you. That’s not the sturdiest piece of furniture.” I threw my suit jacket over a dining room chair and went back to organizing the grocery order that had just been delivered.
“Are you telling me you put it together with a butter knife?” she asked, jumping to the hardwood floor.
“Hardly.” A corner of my mouth lifted. “Nate put it together when he came to visit about . . .” I did the mental math. “Eight months ago.”
“And you don’t trust his construction abilities?” She wedged herself between my body and the opposite counter in the U-shaped kitchen and grabbed the coffee creamer, then put it into the refrigerator.
“I do. But I also know what that thing looked like coming out of the box.” I rose on my bare toes and put the boxed stuff on the highest shelf.
“Eight months seems like a pretty long time,” Serena said, leaning back against the counter. “Have you seen him since then?”
“Nope.” My chest clamped down like a vise. “He’s been gone more than he’s been home, according to his texts and letters.” I put the fruits and vegetables away. “If he’s not at some training or school, he’s . . .” I shrugged because I honestly had no clue.
“Is that normal for Special Forces, or whatever he’s doing?”
“How would I know?” I handed her a box of coffee. “Behind you.” Truth was, I’d barely heard from him in the past seven months, and what I had heard had been vague and short.
She leaned sideways and put the coffee away without getting off the counter. “But you’ve heard from him, right?”
“Yeah.” I finished the last of the order and leaned back against the counter. “I mean, not in the last month, but he told me that he was going to be busy.” There was some kind of test he was taking, but he hadn’t gone into detail, which meant I wasn’t supposed to mention it.
“Busy?” Serena cocked an eyebrow as Tybee, my six-month-old Maine coon kitten, jumped onto the counter.
“You’re not supposed to be up here, are you?” I asked him, scratching under his chin before I set him back on the floor. Not that he’d listen. Tybee had taught me that cats did whatever the hell they wanted whenever the hell they wanted to. I envied them their give-no-fucks attitude. I shrugged. “He texted and said he wouldn’t be able to talk this month, but he’d meet me at O’Hare.”
Serena blinked. “So you’re just going to fly off to Palau tomorrow and hope he meets you at O’Hare?”
“It worked last time.” I shrugged again. It wasn’t like I needed to worry. Nate was one of the only people in my life who always did what they said they were going to do. “No news is good news with Nate. If something had gone awry, he would have told me. We planned out our trips for the next four years while he was here over Valentine’s Day. We couldn’t buy our tickets or book most of the resorts, so Nate hired a travel agent and dumped more money than I care to even think about so they’d make the arrangements when the dates became available.” It had been overwhelmingly, sweetly romantic, and yet had told me he was still
planning on this being the way we lived for the next four years. He’d gone so far as to tell me that even the wives weren’t getting much face time. Hell, I wasn’t even a girlfriend. “Assuming we don’t have to move dates for deployments, which he said we undoubtably would. I’ll just have to cross my fingers and pray I can get time off when he has leave.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And it doesn’t bother you that you don’t know where he is half the time or what he’s doing?”
“Of course it does.” I lifted my shoulders and let them fall. “But I don’t exactly have the right to know.”
“What if something . . .” She struggled with her words. “Happened to him?”
“Then hopefully someone—probably one of his friends—would tell
me.”
Her head tilted to the side as she studied me. “He could have an entire
family, a wife and kids, down there in North Carolina and you wouldn’t know.” She pointed her finger at me. “And don’t you dare shrug at me again.”
I locked my posture. “He doesn’t. I might not know where he’s sent, but he’s always honest with me when he’s dating someone, the same as I am with him.”
“And how long has it been since you’ve dated someone?”
“Two months.” Hugh had been a massive mistake, an attempt to fill the void, an attempt to see if I could live without Nate. I pushed off the counter and walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room, connected to the living room. “And I thought you were taking this week as vacation? Stop interviewing me like I’m your latest story.”
“I’m not!” She hopped off the counter and followed me into the bedroom. “I just worry about you.”
That made two of us, but I couldn’t say that to her. I walked into my closet and stripped off the remains of my suit, opting for drawstring pajama pants and the hoodie Nate had given me for Christmas with some logo that represented his unit. “Thank you for taking the week to watch Tybee, by the way.”
“No problem. I legitimately had nothing better to do.”
I came out to find her lying across the expanse of my bed, staring up at the ceiling. “You don’t have to patronize me. I know how hard you’re working at that new paper.”
“Apparently not hard enough.” She sighed. I lay down next to her. “Spill.”
“I didn’t get the assignment I wanted. They’re sending a more senior photojournalist.” Her voice lifted in an imitation of her boss. “But not to worry, I can keep covering the Hill until my time comes.”
“I’m sorry.” I kept my eyes on the blades of the ceiling fan above us so she wouldn’t see the lie in my eyes. That country had a death grip on the man I loved, and I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit for it to get its hands on my sister too. “I know how badly you wanted to go.”
“I just want to cover something meaningful.” She laced her fingers over her rib cage.
“Afghanistan isn’t the only place to do that,” I said softly. “I’m sure lots of meaningful things happen on the Hill. It’s the seat of our government.” It was all I could think to say, and I knew it fell short of what she needed.
“You’d be amazed at how much there isn’t.” She turned her head toward me. “Senator Lauren’s bill failed again. It didn’t even get out of committee.”
My brow furrowed. “Remind me which one that is?”
“The one trying to set a withdrawal date from Afghanistan.”
“Oh.” I lifted my hand to cover my heart, like I could somehow rub the ache out of it. “That’s a shame.”
“Speaking of shame.” She rolled to face me, bracing her head on her hand. “How are Mom and Dad handling your choice of corporate law?”
“Hey!” I rolled my eyes. “I spend at least half my day handling the contracts for the nonprofits—”
“That the richest companies in New York have for tax purposes?” She laughed, then pressed her lips between her teeth when she caught my glare. “Okay, okay.”
“It’s only for a couple years. Just long enough to pay back Mom and Dad for law school.”
“Because you’re feeling guilty that you grew up privileged?” She cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Because I can’t take the constant guilt trips about not working in the best interest of the family,” I answered honestly.
“You know, Isa,” she said, slipping into her impression of our father, and I grinned. “You could do so much good for the family if you’d simply
devote your entire life to making it legal for us to pay less taxes.” “Something like that,” I laughed. “I just can’t take it anymore.”
“I get that. I’m barely covering that apartment in DC now that you’re gone, but I refuse to go to them for money.” She wiggled her finger toward my nose. “You could always move back to DC just for me, you know. Forget Mom and Dad. There are tons of corporate jobs there. You don’t have to take the political ones. Your room is so lonely without you.”
I scoffed. “Then get a roommate.”
“Valid point.” She glanced past me. “Any chance that your inability to see a relationship through has to do with the fact that you keep that picture on your nightstand?”
I didn’t need to look to know it was the picture of Nate kissing my cheek in Fiji. “I think it has to do with the fact that I pretty much keep him on the nightstand.”
She slowly brought her gaze back to mine. “I know that what you two share is . . . undefinable, but Izzy, how long can it go on like this? You here and him . . . everywhere?”
A boulder lodged itself in my throat. “Nate has his reasons.” That night in Fiji had scared him more than it had me, just not enough for him to go talk to someone about it. “And it doesn’t matter that I don’t agree with them. He won’t let me choose between my career and him. I can’t force him to choose between me and his career either. I don’t know how to let him go, Serena.”
She brushed my hair back. “I know. I just hate to watch you living your life like a first-time driver with a stick shift, jolting forward and stalling over and over again.”
“I love him.” There was no other way to explain my actions.
“Yeah.” She offered me a sad smile. “But does he feel the same way about you?”
Weight settled in my stomach, immovable and nauseating. “I don’t know. But I’m determined not to come back from Palau until I know the answer. I’m done being the person with the most to lose here.”
Nate wouldn’t let me down. I knew that in the very depths of my soul.
I just had to make it clear that the time for our shot was now.
 |
The next day, my stomach twisted into knots when my group was called to board at Chicago O’Hare. Was this how Nate felt when my flight had been delayed on our way to Fiji?
Guilt sagged my shoulders as I stood, lifting my bag to my shoulder. I should have found time to text him on that trip, to put him out of his misery.
Guess this was payback.
I looked around at the other passengers as I moved into the boarding line, hoping that one head would stand above the others, that a pair of crystal-blue eyes would already be looking my way. He wasn’t here yet.
But he would be. Nate had never let me down in my life. Had he canceled plans on me because he was going to be spending his weekend “cleaning the pool”—his favorite phrase for telling me he was deploying over the phone? Sure. Absolutely. But he had never not called.
I checked my phone as the line moved forward, then opened the flight app for my boarding pass. The desk attendant reminded everyone at the gate that the flight was sold out as I scanned my ticket and boarded the flight.
Shaking my head that Nate had gone overboard with the first-class tickets, I slid into my seat, keeping my bag between my feet. I’d brought four new novels, complete with highlights for him, and didn’t want to have to haul the bag back out to give him his pick when he got here.
“Can I get you anything before takeoff?” the flight attendant asked with a polite smile.
“No, thank you. Do you know if everyone has checked in for first class? I haven’t seen my travel companion.”
“I don’t, I’m sorry.” He glanced at the empty seat. “Don’t worry. We still have about forty minutes before we close the doors. It takes a while to get everyone seated on a plane this big.”
“Thank you.” I sat back as he moved on to the next seats, and I kicked myself in the heart for what I’d obviously put Nate through on our way to Fiji. I pulled my phone from my purse and typed out a text.
 |
I hit send and then watched the screen for the three scrolling dots that would tell me he was replying, but none appeared. After opening the airline’s app, I searched for the flight our paperwork told me he was on.
It landed five minutes ago.
That explained it. He probably hadn’t switched his phone off airplane mode while sprinting from a gate on the opposite side of the airport. He’d better be running. My heart jumped, my pulse accelerating at the thought of seeing him in just a few minutes.
But those minutes ticked by.
The flight attendant gave me a sympathetic look when he asked if he could help stow my carry-on for takeoff.
I buckled in, then shamelessly leaned into the aisle, looking above the seat’s partitions to watch the door I’d boarded through. My stomach sank when the attendant moved toward the door, and I nearly fumbled my phone, dialing Nate’s number.
It didn’t even ring before it sent me to voice mail, which meant it was off. “Nate, I think they’re closing the doors, and I’m really worried. It looks like your flight was delayed, and I don’t even know if I can get off at this point, so I guess I’ll catch up to you at the next layover in Hawaii? I can’t wait to see you.” I hung up.
He missed the flight.
He missed the next one too.
|
Bleary eyed, I checked into the resort the next day. “Isabeau Astor, but it might be under—”
“I have you here,” the concierge replied with a smile that I was too exhausted to return fullheartedly. “We’ll see you to your bungalow.”
“Can you tell me if Nathaniel Phelan has checked in?” “You’re the first, ma’am.”
I nodded in thanks and followed the bellhop, my steps robotic and my heart growing heavier by the hour.
“Here you are.” The bellhop opened the bungalow and set my luggage inside. “Is there anything we can help you with?”
Not unless he could tell me where the hell Nate was.
“No, thank you.” I tipped him, and then I was alone with my jet lag and worried heart. I sat on the king-size bed, the one that Nate was supposed to be in with me, and took out my phone, cursing that I hadn’t paid for international service because I’d wanted to be left completely alone with Nate.
But I had Wi-Fi. I checked my email, then my social media accounts, but there was nothing from Nate.
Then I checked his. The last post had been from five weeks ago, when he, Torres, and Rowell went fishing. They both had J first names, but I couldn’t remember which one was Justin and which was Julian since Nate mostly referred to them by last name. I’d never met the man with the smiling brown eyes, or the tall smirking blond, and their pages were private, just like Nate’s. They’d both entered Special Forces with Nate, but the fourth friend he’d mentioned was never pictured anymore. Nate had called me after he’d gotten back from that fishing trip, then disappeared yet again.
I looked around the sumptuous bungalow. Even leaving my feelings out of the equation, this place must have cost him a fortune. There was no way he wasn’t coming. Nate had always shown up for me. Always.
But doubt crept in. We hadn’t been speaking as frequently these last eight months. I’d been consumed with the hours a new associate had to put in, and he’d been off doing whatever it was he did.
Lying back on the bed, I fought off exhaustion with every blink of my eyes, scared I’d miss the moment he burst through the door and kissed me.
When I opened my eyes, it was light out, but the sun shone from a different direction.
I scrambled from the bed, my body stiff from sleeping in my clothes for what had obviously been about eleven hours. “Nate?” I called out, searching the bathroom first.
If he’d gotten in and found me sleeping, he wouldn’t have woken me.
He was annoyingly selfless that way.
The bathroom was empty, so I unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the deck. “Nate?” My voice was swallowed by the sound of wind and waves.
Wait. The door was locked. He hadn’t unlocked it. Dread skittered like ice along my spine, and I went back into the room, picked up the phone on my nightstand, and dialed for the front desk. “Hi, can you please tell me if Nathaniel Phelan checked in?” I asked.
“One moment.” I heard the sound of clicking keys. “No, I’m sorry, ma’am.”
My stomach hit the floor.
“Thank you,” I whispered, then put the phone back on the receiver. Nate wasn’t here.
I swiped open my phone and texted the required phrases to accept the fees for international service, but the only text was from Serena, wishing me a happy trip.
This was . . . impossible. I hit Nate’s button in my contacts, and it rang twice again. Yesterday—or had it been the day before—I’d been certain that meant it was off, but what if he sent me to voice mail?
“This is Nate. Leave a message.” So curt and to the point, just like he
was.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said after the beep. “I’m here, but you
aren’t. You haven’t texted, or called, and I’m starting to freak out that maybe something has happened to you, because I know you wouldn’t stand me up like this. Just . . .” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Just call me, Nate. Even if something has come up, please tell me you’re okay.”
I ended the call.
I ate alone that night, holding out hope that he’d been held up and would walk in at any second.
The next morning, I sat on the sun-warmed deck, my feet dangling over the edge as I clutched my phone like the lifeline it was.
Pain filled the space between heartbeats. I knew this feeling. It had consumed me every time I looked for my parents in the stands at swim meets, only to find empty seats. It had eviscerated me when Jeremy chose to wife-shop at Yale over moving to Georgetown with me after I’d changed everything about my life for him. It had raced through my veins like ice, numbing me when Mom and Dad chose to keep cruising instead of coming home after the plane crash. I’d been in this position too many times to count
—left waiting for someone I loved, only to realize I was never their priority.
I fought it, my aching heart promising my cynical head that Nate wouldn’t do this, but as the hours passed, the truth sank in.
He wasn’t coming.
I bit the bullet and called Serena.
“What are you doing calling me on your lovey-dovey vacation?” she asked. “Tybee says hello, by the way.”
“He’s not here.” My voice came out just as flat as I felt. “Nate?”
“He’s not here,” I repeated, forcing myself through the words. “Has anyone come by? Anyone . . . in uniform?” My tongue tripped over the words. It was the only other explanation I could think of.
“No, Izzy. No one’s been here,” she said, her voice softening. “Are you okay?”
“No.” My eyes watered and my nose stung as I blinked back the torrent of tears. “Maybe he’s deployed? But I mean, he’s always slipped me some coded warning in a text or a call. And I don’t know any of his friends. I can’t think of a single person I could call and ask.” I knew so little about his actual life that it was embarrassing. Serena was right. He could have an entire family that I knew nothing about. He’d kept me on the fringes of his life, never letting me in.
But no one had batted an eye when I’d stood at his side at the funeral. A new girlfriend maybe? A new . . . wife?
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“What am I supposed to do? Staying makes me foolish, and leaving means . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
“Come home or stay and soak up what sunshine you can.” So sensible.
So Serena.
“I don’t want to be here without him.” “Then you have your answer.”
I started crying and didn’t stop. I worried the resort staff as I checked out, and then frightened the attendants when the tears kept coming on the flights I’d changed. The tears came and came and came as I crossed time zones, date lines, and what felt like years. People stared and offered tissues, which only made me cry harder.
My eyes were nearly swollen shut, hot and scratchy, by the time I walked into my apartment, and when I saw Serena, the waterworks started again. It was like I had an unending supply of tears.
She held me tight and rocked me like we were little again. “It’s okay,” she whispered as I sobbed on her shoulder.
“I have to let him go, don’t I?” The words were stuttered and broken. “It doesn’t matter if he did it on accident or on purpose—I can’t keep living like this, Serena. I have to let him go.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her arms tightened around me.
Nate and I had waited so long to take our shot that we’d missed it.
