Page 58 of Forked (Frenched 2)
He opened one eye. “Are you gonna do it?”
I glared at him. “No, asshole. I’m not going to do it. I hit you once and it didn’t make me feel better.”
“The night we broke up.”
“Yes.” I looked at the palm of my right hand. “It probably hurt my hand more than your face.”
“Probably. Remind me to teach you how to throw a punch.”
I curled my fingers into a fist. “I’m ready for a lesson.”
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, the bastard. “That’s your fist? Coco, you can’t throw a punch with your hand like that. You’ll break your thumb.” He unfurled my fist and tucked my thumb alongside my fingers, leaving his big hands wrapped around my smaller one. “There. Like that.”
“Thanks.” I stared at our hands. “I guess if an unsatisfied bride ever comes at me, I’ll be better prepared.”
Nick smiled slightly and took his hands off mine. “Can I ask you a question?”
I shrugged, miserable and cold.
“Did you even come back to campus after Vegas?”
“Just to pack up my clothes. Exams were done, and I had no reason to be there. Plus everything reminded me of you. It was too painful.”
“I know. I left too.”
That surprised me. “You did?”
He nodded. “I applied to the Culinary Institute and got in. I went in the fall. But Coco, you have to believe I wanted you back. I called, I wrote. I even drove to your parents house, but you were gone.”
“My mother and I took a vacation.”
“Did your grandmother tell you I came?”
“Yes. She did.” And I’d gone into the bathroom of our hotel room in Rome and cried my eyes out in the
shower. If my mother noticed my puffy eyes that night, she didn’t mention it. “Sitty always liked you because you were Catholic. And because you cooked and were interested in her recipes. But it wasn’t enough to change my mind. I still didn’t want to hear your damn apologies.”
“I know. It was clear the divorce was what you really wanted. Eventually I figured I should just leave you in peace.”
My eyes went wide. “Peace? I didn’t have any peace where you were concerned. Not for years Maybe not ever!” I put a hand to my chest. “I never got over it, Nick. I never got over you.” Admitting it to him now was like cutting out my own heart. I burst into tears, and Nick gathered me into his arms. Maybe it was stupid but I went, crying into my hands against his shoulder. This was all so fucking sad. It wasn’t that I was sorry I’d gone to Paris—it was a wonderful experience, one that I’d want my own children to have—Nick was right about that. But still…
“You gave up on me. You gave up,” I wept. “You left, so I left. And you gave up. You could have fought harder, longer. I was back from Paris the following summer, and not once did I ever hear from you.”
“I didn’t give up on you, Coco, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have the guts to show up on your doorstep after everything that had happened. I thought about it a million times.”
I took a few slow, calming breaths and backed away from him. “It’s better you didn’t. I don’t think there was anything you could have said to make me listen. I was too angry to forgive you.”
“And now?”
We stared at each other a long moment, during which we both realized that a second chance might be impossible. “I don’t know.”
Nick took a deep breath. “Coco, not a day goes by that I don’t regret what happened between us. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I made a mistake. And it cost me the love of my life.”
My lips fell open.
Argue with him. Say it didn’t. Say what you planned to say before you jumped in the lake. Tell him you love him again and maybe you always have. Tell him you accept his apology. Admit that you made mistakes too, that you know what it’s like to act on impulse, that, in fact, part of what thrilled you about his spur-of-the-moment proposal was that it was much more like you than like him. Say that you knew it was a bad idea, that you knew your parents and friends should be a part of your wedding day, that a Vegas quickie was not what you’d had in mind as a young girl dreaming of her wedding day. Own up to the fact that you booked those tickets to Nevada within minutes of accepting his proposal, putting them on your own credit card, because you were scared that he’d change his mind. Tell him that you saw getting married as a way to hold on to him, a way to ensure he’d never sleep with anyone else ever again. Tell him you saw it as a way to show your parents they couldn’t control you.
Tell him your wedding bands are still in your jewelry box.
