“Sure. I don’t know that much about what you’re studying.”
So for a good twenty minutes, I explained what I was doing in the education track, Ms. Parker’s warnings regarding burnout and some of my favorites from the program. “There’s this one kid, Riley, he’s always smiling, but the weird thing is, it’s not because he’s happy. It’s because it upsets his mom so much if she thinks he’s sad. So he never shows any of his anger or frustration, but it can’t be good for him. I worry that he’ll snap someday.”
“You obviously care about them a lot. I think you’ll be a great teacher.”
“I hope so, if I don’t crash and burn before then. It’s pretty hard to juggle everything.”
“Is that why you’re with me instead of an actual boyfriend?” The words hurt like hell.
Belatedly, I realized he didn’t mean it in a bad way; it wasn’t a denial of us, and I shouldn’t have that knee-jerk reaction. We’re not dating. He cares, but he doesn’t love you. That’s fine. It’s exactly according to plan. But the ache in my chest argued otherwise.
“Nadia?” He came up on his elbows, staring at me in concern.
“I was just thinking. And I guess so. I really don’t have time for regular dates.” Hesitating, I couldn’t decide if I should ask this, but why not? “How long do you see yourself staying single?”
“Ten years, minimum. I might start dating when Sam’s in high school. He’ll have his own life by then. I might consider getting married once he leaves home, but I won’t want more kids.” He sounded so sure, even though he’d be only thirty-eight when Sam left for college. “What about you?”
Taking a deep breath, I decided to be honest. This was probably the closest I’d ever come to telling Ty how I felt. “I’d like to get settled, career-wise, before I start a serious relationship. But sometimes life hands you unexpected opportunities. I wouldn’t turn down the right guy, if he came into my life at the wrong moment. I’d just...make room for him. Somehow.”
He answered as I feared he would. “Bad idea. Focus on your future. Definitely do not screw it up over some ass**le.”
Suddenly, I remembered our conversation on the Ann Arbor trip, and I wondered if he thought I was talking about someone other than him. I tried to find a way to ask nicely. “Are you worried about...competition, Ty?”
“I shouldn’t be. We agreed either one of us could call it at any time...for any reason.” But that wasn’t a firm denial.
“There’s nobody else,” I assured him quietly.
“That should not make me so f**king happy. But look at me.” His smile was breathtaking, so beautiful, it made me ache.
“I’m just not a player by nature,” I said, trying to downplay my fidelity. “I’ve been with...five guys, total. Including you.”
He raised a brow at me. “Not sure I needed to know that.”
“Sorry if that was an overshare.”
“It’s okay. And my number is five, too. Counting you.”
“Interesting.”
I wondered how many girls there were before Diana and how many after. But if I asked, he’d tell me, and then we’d end the night with me feeling like I couldn’t fill the void she left when she went. Sometimes I thought it might help him move on if he knew she was happy—that she’d put the pain behind her. But maybe not. Maybe Ty’s scars ran too deep.
“Your face says we’re in a bad place.”
“That’s just my sleepy look. It doesn’t play well on video. ’Night, Ty.”
“Sleep well, sweetness.” He didn’t seem to notice the endearment, and I didn’t point it out. But it was the first time he’d called me anything but my name.
After we hung up, I basked in it until I fell asleep.
The next morning, my mom rousted me out of bed with the unfair bait of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls, but I was a sucker for her baked goods. Once I was up, she dragged me to the local flea market, and that kept us out all day. At night, we watched movies with my dad, and Sunday morning at stupid o’clock, she cried as I loaded up the car.
“I just miss you,” she said, sniffling. “It was so good to have you home.”
My dad was more taciturn as always, but he had filled my trunk with emergency supplies: kitty litter, snow chains, flares, blankets, granola bars and bottles of water. He was the one who made sure I wore rain boots and carried an umbrella on stormy days; he also nagged about my grades while Mom offered more emotional bonding. Throat tight, I hugged them both in turn and Dad held on longer than usual.
“I’ll come home this summer,” I promised.
“Looking forward to it,” he murmured. “Drive safely, bean.”
Rob stood in the window of his bedroom, gazing down at us. He didn’t come down to say goodbye, and I wondered if he felt as alone as he looked. My chest ached as I drove away, musing on the distance between us. I was five miles down the road before I noticed that my mom had put two bags of Thanksgiving leftovers in my backseat. I hoped Max and Angus were up for turkey; otherwise it might go to waste.
Lauren was waiting out front when I got there. She hopped in, staring at her mom’s house with a wistful look. “Well, we survived coming home. I wish I didn’t have to take off so soon. This was so much fun.”
“Wonder what Max and Angus did.” I mentioned our roomies, wondering if she’d thought of Max at all over the break.
But she didn’t react. “Let’s hope the return is painless.”
Since it was another sixteen hours, I said, “Doubt it.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you think Rob hates me?”
“That was random.” Classic Lauren, avoiding the question to avoid hurting me.
“Seriously.”
“Probably not. But it’s hard for him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s definitely a difference in how your folks treat you two.”
I sighed. “Trust me, I’m aware. And it sucks. But I don’t know what to do.”
“No idea. I’m an only child.”
Driving back, we talked more about our families and played the radio to stay awake, switching off as we had before. Eight hours in, the weather got bad, and I had to plug my phone into the cigarette lighter to keep using the GPS app. It sucked a lot of power, but it also reported on traffic, weather and potential problem areas ahead. Doggedly, I drove with both hands locked on the wheel, steering through billowing clouds of white. The night was dark as hell, brightened only by the red taillights of cars crawling ahead of us.