Page 80 of Yours, For Good

She stopped by the stairs. "Can I go up? I'm curious about your house, but you don't have to entertain my nosiness—"

"Please. Go wherever. All rooms are open to you."

She took off her purse and hung it from the banister. "What would you do if I started opening shelves and drawers?"

"I'd let you."

"Wow. I'm not going to do that, but I wondered. You really are willing to show me everything, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Then why hide behind Mr. B. to begin with?" She went up a few steps. "Reading your journals showed me your logic, but I can't say I agree. I'm…"

She let out an irritated scoff. Her steps quickened as her anger bubbled up. I followed her up the stairs.

"I'm seething. You hid such a big thing from me! It gave you choices I never had."

I dug my hands into my pockets and rubbed my lips together, listening carefully to every word.

She turned left on the second floor in what seemed like a mindless decision. "You know what I kept thinking since you told me the truth? That suddenly I have someone in my life who knows about the most tender parts of me and never made me feel bad for it. Yet I didn't get to trust you with them! You robbed me, Javier."

I winced but said nothing. It was the truth.

She made it into the kitchen at the back of the house and stopped in her tracks. Without speaking, she turned in a circle studying the breakfast nook by the windows, the classic lines of the white cabinets and their black hardware, the white subway tile backsplash with black grout, and the modern appliances. She ran a finger down the built-in espresso machine.

I curled my hands into fists in pockets. "Uhm… would you like something to drink?"

Her eyes snapped to me. "No, thank you."

I nodded and didn't make a comment on our sudden formality.

She pursed her lips and walked past me toward the other end of the house. I followed her in silence once more.

Her skirt swayed around her legs as she passed the stairs into the dining room. "You said in one of your emails that the ethical thing would have been to never meet me. You were right— it would have been the right thing. So why does it make me so sad to imagine never knowing you? If you had never been in the picture, eventually, I would have been fine! I would have graduated from the John Grier Home and found a room somewhere and a job and maybe in five years I could have started my business in a much more modest way. And yet…"

Her words landed an uppercut squarely on my jaw. Would she have preferred to have never met me? Sounded like it. I had likely messed up too badly for her to want to give me any real chance.

She rounded the ten-place table, admiring the subtle florals on the dark wallpaper, the white wainscotting, and warm honey woods of the furniture. A contemporary chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, and it caught her eyes for several seconds.

She gazed at it but a veil covered her eyes. She watched it without seeing. "It makes me so angry that I think it's sweet that you couldn't stand the thought of my struggles. That above all, you didn't want me to feel sad and alone. You didn't even know me and you wanted to help! But you doing good was at my expense and it's all just a big mindfuck."

Her eyes dropped to mine. A mix of melancholy and gloom and pain drowned the usual joy glimmering in them. It grabbed my throat with sharp talons and pulled, weighing down my heart until it dropped to my feet.

My vocal cords had tightened, and my voice came out heavy. "I'm sorry, Nora."

"I hate that I felt like our friendship was magical when it was a half-baked plan." Her eyes stayed on me with the same darkened shadow on them, but she grabbed the back of a chair until her knuckles whitened. "Sure, you didn't plan to spend a few hours having coffee with me that time and you had to improvise, but what about Halloween? That was all you. And maybe I invited you for Christmas but then you practically invited yourself for my grad event, and I just…"

She searched my eyes for an explanation, her brow pulling in a tense wrinkle.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. "I needed to be there for you somehow. I wanted to celebrate with you."

She closed her eyes and frowned as if my answer hurt her. "Every time I asked Mr. B. to write back. Every single time you and I met. I got what I wanted without getting it at all."

The truth of her words hit me, a punch that took the air from my lungs. It gutted me, scooped out my insides and the intentions I had in the beginning. I meant to give her someone to talk to, support her, keep her company as she gathered speed and soared… but I tarnished it all with my decisions anyway.

"I'm sorry," I said again, at a loss for words.

I betrayed someone I'd grown to care so deeply for, and I wasn't sure how to fix it. I'd do anything to make it better, if only I knew how.