CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I had to give it to the boys, they were exceptionally good at pretending as though nothing was wrong. There was no "do you want to talk about it?" or "it's okay to be upset," merely a welcomed silence as Matt pulled away from the curb. I watched the house in the side mirror until long after it was lost in the shadows.

The only exchange was between Matt and Chris, as Chris handed over his phone with the navigation set for our hotel.

For ten blissfully numb minutes, I stared vacantly through the windshield. Perhaps it was subconscious, my brain isolating itself so as not to replay the images of my father sitting happily across what I'm sure was an elegant dining table set properly with place mats and dinnerware they didn't have to buy second-hand, smiling from ear to ear with his picture-perfect wife and children. It was like watching an alternate universe unfold right before your eyes. Seeing the magnitude of their home in comparison to the run-down two-bedroom duplex mom and I survived in was enough to knock the wind out of me. But then to witness a moment so intimate from the outside? A moment so mundane - so trivial, yet one I'd fantasized about my entire existence - that was enough to make the whole world collapse.

The semi-circle drive that looped in front of Harborside Inn & Spa was backed up with cars. Four various-sized SUVs and hatchbacks were parked with their hazard lights flashing and trunks open while families precariously tossed their suitcases onto baggage trolleys and wheeled them into the busy lobby.

"Chris, why don't you go check us in." Matt added us to the assembly line of cars, pulling up behind a metallic blue Mazda.

"Sure," Chris agreed.

"I'll come with," I said, grabbing my tote and stepping out onto the sidewalk. If I didn't go, Nick would've, and being stuck in the car alone with Matt right now was the last thing I needed. Even if he didn't come right out and ask what happened back there, he would find a way to get it out of me. He always seemed to. At least in a crowded lobby there was less of a chance of going into full meltdown mode.

Matt smiled placidly. "We'll meet you two inside."

Chris moved for the sliding doors, glancing over his shoulder at me. I was staring at a young mother a few feet away. She had a toddler clinging to her hand, wearing a Toy Story backpack that nearly reached the backs of his knees, and a baby girl hooked around her hip. Her husband was unloading their bags. She stood there, backlit by the lobby lights, gazing fondly at her partner who would pause to make silly faces at their children between putting the bags on the ground.

The automatic doors opened and closed several times behind Chris as he waited for me to come back to my body. I could feel crescent moons form in the palms of my hand and I focused on the sensation.

I gave myself a moment to lock up the emotion coursing through me, then gathered all the strength I had left and plastered a sugarcane smile on my face.

"Sorry," I moved past him for the doors, "They have cute kids."

Without missing a beat, Chris fell in line with my steps. A gust of warm air enveloped us as soon as we stepped through the threshold of the lobby. Most hotels I'd stayed in over the years reeked of stale tobacco and bleach and often came with guests that were more than a bit questionable, but not this one. Harborside's foyer balanced between rustic and sleek and smelt clean, but not in the same chemical way I'd been accustomed to. Vanilla and suede perfumed the air just light enough to feel inviting instead of suffocating and was complemented by quiet, ambient music playing from several hidden speakers around the room.

"No wonder they charge six-hundred a night," Chris whistled faintly, tracing the Victorian wallpaper with his eyes. Gold sconces lined the beige-patterned walls looking like tiny floating lamps and omitted warm, amber light onto the woven area rugs. I plopped into a nearby parlor chair.

"I didn't realize places like this actually existed," I admitted. This whole damn town belonged on a television screen. Even the people staying here matched perfectly with the hotel's aesthetic, from tailored camel trench coats to cashmere sweaters, it was like watching a walking Nordstrom ad. I didn't know whether to be impressed or embarrassed. I'd dressed up for today, but my turtleneck was a little too oversized and my jeans had a tiny fraying hole in the knee and everything about this town, this trip, was starting to make me feel cramped in my skin.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Chris made a face. Somehow he still managed to look like he belonged in a place like this wearing a wrinkled matching black sweatsuit and knit beanie.

I squinted. "Like what?"

"Like you're checking me out." He smirked.

If my eyes got any narrower they would've been closed. "Is flirting your default setting?"

The line of guests moved up a couple of feet and I begrudgingly rose from my seat. Chris chuckled to himself.

"Believe it or not, no." He threw me a sideways glance. "But considering Matt bears the weight of brooding, and will undoubtedly try to solve whatever complicated mess you've got going on in there," he gestured to my head, "I thought you could use a little distraction."

I shoved him lightly and he stumbled a step. To be honest, I didn't know which one I preferred less: Chris hitting on me at any given opportunity, knowing full well he didn't mean it, or Matt feeling obligated to make everything better. The only person who seemed to treat me normally was Nick.

"Well thank you for your service, but I'm fine." I studied a stack of unbalanced books on one of the end tables. A copy of Joan Didion's Slouching Towards Bethlehem caught my attention. I pulled it from the stack and flipped through its pages.

"Have you read that?" Chris peered over my shoulder.

I shook my head. "Not all of it. One of the essays in here is what inspired me to start writing, though."

I skimmed through the collection until I landed on "Goodbye to All That." The first time I read it was after a regular at the old coffee shop I used to work at recommended it to me.

"I think you'll appreciate it," Larry said, passing over a slip of paper with the title sprawled across it. "Hopefully it resonates with you."

And it did. More than any piece of writing ever has because that was the very moment I knew that one day I, too, would leave it all behind.

I smiled smally at the lines, seeing through the blank space back to a time I can't imagine still being in, but missing all the same.

Chris gently pulled the paperback from my palms and skimmed the opening paragraph. He looked at me through thick lashes.

"What?" I crossed my arms.

"You're always missing something, aren't you? Even when it's right in front of you."

I was stunned. "Excuse me?"

Chris set the book back on the table and turned his back to me, pulling out his ID for the front desk agent who was finishing up with the couple in front of us.

I grabbed his elbow. "Hello? Care to elaborate?"

He smiled at the short, elderly woman who was manning the check-in desk. Her white hair was pulled back in an elegant low bun and her wire-rimmed glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose.

"Good evening," she beamed. "Checking in?"

"Yes," Chris grinned. "We have a reservation for Sturniolo."

I bit my tongue. He wasn't getting out of this so easily.

I smiled politely at her as she exchanged pleasantries with the two of us, clacking away on her keyboard.

When she handed Chris our room keys, I piped up. "Would you happen to have a cot we could have brought up?"

She smiled sympathetically, the lines around her lips deepening. "Unfortunately, all of our cots are being used for the evening. It's a bit of a crazy time here."

I forced an understanding smile. "Of course. No problem. Thank you for your help."

"Enjoy your stay," she tipped her head.

Chris moved to stand off to the side while we waited for Matt and Nick to come in with our bags.

I smacked his arm.

He made a shocked noise. "What was that for?"

"You know what."

He straightened, putting his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't trying to be offensive."

"So, what were you trying to be then?"

He looked me over. I held onto my nerve, keeping my eyes set on his face.

"You walk around with this...this palpable sadness," he shrugged.

"Do you even know what 'palpable' means?" I jeered.

He glared. "Yes. Don't try to change the subject."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't do that."

"You do. It's like you're already mourning the loss of something before you've even had the chance to enjoy it. That's why you had that panic attack on the pier isn't it? Or why you didn't want to get out of the car earlier? Because you believe that if you actually take a risk, it might pay off, and then what would you do?"

All of the blood rushed out of my face. If this were anyone else I would've told them to fuck off or walked away, but it wasn't anyone else, it was Chris. He wasn't being hurtful or malicious, he was being honest, and yet, it cut deeper than the time I sliced my foot open on a shard from one of mom's broken bottles. You see, physical pain I could handle. Over the years I'd built a tolerance for broken bones and deep cuts because all of those could be healed with time or Neosporin, but heartache and grief were entirely different. You couldn't pinpoint on your body where the pain started and ended. It became a part of you. Inextricable as DNA.

"Wh - why would you say that to me?"

"Because Nick and Matt won't."

I wanted to cry or scream or run away, but I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't make a scene. I couldn't look away from Chris, his gaze was the only thing holding me together.

"What are you so afraid of, Nattie?" he asked softly.

I caught my reflection in the hanging mirror over his shoulder. "Being seen."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy belated Thanksgiving! I wanted to take a moment to express how much every single one of you means to me. Thank you for continuously supporting me and this book and sharing your kind words/thoughts. Sending you all my love! <3 I know this chapter is a litttleee short, but hoping to write/have the next one up in a couple of days! xoxo