“You’re, umm… not staying in a hostel or something are you?”
I smile a little. “No, Mum, I swear. I’m in a very good and safe place with a friend.”
She sighs with relief. “I’m sorry for what I said. I should have been there for you.”
“Yeah,” I say, my eyes burning. “You should have.”
I hear her sniff and my heart pounds a heavy rhythm in my chest. “I’ll be there, I swear. Call me. I miss you.”
“You too.” I hang up and chew on my lip for a moment, my phone clutched tightly in my hand.
After taking a steady breath I walk back into the restaurant and make my way over to Nathan.
As soon as I get close enough he asks, “Problem?”
“No,” I lie. It is a problem in a sense, something I need to talk about, but I don’t want to bother him with my issues. How exactly do I deal with this? “It was my mum.”
“The one who disowned you?”
“The one and only.” I slide into my seat and rest my chin on my hand. “She said she’s sorry, she was angry and disappointed and never should have reacted that way.”
He scoffs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t care much for your mother.”
“She wants me to go home.” My voice is a low whisper, but he hears me. I know this because his body shifts and his tongue swipes his lower lip.
He clears his throat and casually moves his straw around his glass. “Are you going?”
“Not without speaking to you first.” I watch his straw swirl through the clear liquid.
His face drops. “Would you like to go?”
Would I? “It’d get me out of your way. You could go back to your life without having to worry about me.”
He softens and smiles a sad smile. “I’ll always worry about you.”
I look him directly in the eyes. “Do you want me to go?”
Blowing out a breath, he runs his fingers through his hair again. “No. Honestly I don’t.”
“I thought you liked your privacy? Your space?”
“And so far you’ve respected both. I enjoy your company. It is your choice, but think about it long and hard before you make any decisions.” He waves his hand to signal for the waitress. She comes over and clears our plates, asking if everything was okay with our meal. We both nod and climb from the table. Nathan takes my wrist in his hand and guides me outside. I’m not sure exactly where we are, I just know that it looks like we’re in the middle of nowhere.
“She wants to visit,” I blurt as we walk towards the car.
His brow rises. “Does she know who you’re staying with?”
“No, I didn’t tell her.” I chew on my lip for a moment, looking out at the curving green and yellow hills that touch the horizon. “Can I ask you something?” He helps me into the car and rushes around to his side.
“Sure.”
Should I?
Yes. “Why did you hit Caleb?”
“What?”
Oh, like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
He looks around for a moment, clearly uncomfortable.
I repeat my question. “Why did you hit Caleb that night? And then tell me to get rid of the baby?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It’s a long drive.” Why’s he avoiding this?
He lets out a long breath of frustration. “It’s not important. It happened and I’m ashamed of myself for acting so barbarically.”
“It is important,” I respond, feeling defensive. “You just walked in, cracked him one and left.”
“You’ve never mentioned it before,” he grits out and starts the car. “Why now?”
“Because I’ve been too busy dealing with my grief to think about anything else. I’d like to know.”
“My brother betrayed my trust. I asked him to do something for me and instead he chose to let me down after swearing to me it would be done,” he responds cryptically and now I want to know even more. “That’s it.”
“What did he swear to you he’d do?”
“Honestly, Guinevere, I really don’t want to talk about this.” He looks as agitated as I feel.
“You don’t trust me?”
His face hardens. “I don’t trust anyone.”
Ouch. “’Kay.”
“Don’t take it personally.” He sighs like I’m being ridiculous for feeling a little bit sad over this. “Trust is earned over time, not given freely on request.”
My mouth drops open. “And I haven’t earned your trust yet?” What an arsehole.
“Just drop it, would you?” He looks at me briefly. “Whatever happened between Caleb and I is my business. It’s not for you to worry about.”
I glare at his profile when he faces the road once more, my arms folded across the top of my belly. “What about what you said to me?”
“What are you talking about now?”
“You told me to get rid of the baby while I still had the chance. Why would you say that?”
He doesn’t respond, staring blankly ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.
“Nathan.” I persist, wanting him to explain.
“I apologize for saying that.”
“Clearly I’ve forgiven you already, but I’d like to know why you said it.”
Like before, he doesn’t respond. I rest my forehead on the glass. Out of the corner of my eye I see him look at me as if wanting to say something, but then he shakes his head and looks back at the road, his lips a thin white line and his jaw tense. “I have a meeting with my solicitor tomorrow in the city. I’ll be away until the weekend.”
“Don’t do that,” I snap, feeling my anger rise. “Every single time we have a heated discussion, you take off. Maybe I should just leave, then you won’t have to keep doing that every few days.”
“That’s not why I’m leaving.”
“I’m calling bullshit.”
“Don’t swear; it’s not attractive.”
I laugh humourlessly. “Seriously? I’m not trying to be attractive.”
“Just don’t swear and don’t leave. It’s not why I’m leaving.”
Eye roll. “I’m always the reason you leave. It makes me feel guilty, knowing I’m in your house and you feel forced to stay elsewhere.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Am I? It doesn’t feel like it. “Whatever.”
“I’m serious,” he remarks, stopping the car so he can look at me. “That house… it holds some painful memories for me. That’s why I leave on occasion.”
I’m sceptical. “Why do these memories only resurface when you seem to be pissed at me?”
“Stop swearing.”
“Sorry.” I say this flippantly and continue on as before. “I don’t get it, Nathan. Do you want me to leave? Tell me honestly. I don’t want…”
“Stop reading into things that aren’t there.” He cuts me off; his tone is louder than it was a moment ago and it startles me.
“Like you can talk,” I mumble and instantly regret it.