Chapter 9 - The Second First Date
Nathan did not ask me out.
That was the problem.
After everything, I expected him eventually to try.
He didn’t.
He attended community meetings when Carter Development was involved.
He supported Harbor House.
He spoke politely.
He kept his distance.
For eight months.
Eventually I became irritated.
Which was ridiculous.
I had divorced him.
I had told him our marriage was over.
Now I was offended because he respected the boundary.
Sophie found this hilarious.
“He’s finally doing exactly what you ask, and somehow that’s upsetting you.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You alphabetized your spices.”
“They needed organization.”
“You don’t cook.”
I glared at her.
She grinned.
Then Nathan announced he was moving.
Not across town.
Denver.
Carter Development had partnered with a Colorado firm, and Nathan planned to oversee the expansion personally for at least two years.
I learned through Elliot.
Not Nathan.
That hurt more than it should have.
The farewell reception was held at Carter Development headquarters.
I almost didn’t attend.
Then I realized avoiding him would mean I was still organizing my decisions around him.
So I went.
Nathan saw me across the room.
His expression changed.
He approached.
“You came.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“When do you leave?”
“Monday.”
“For two years?”
“At least.”
I nodded.
“That’s good.”
“Is it?”
“For you.”
Nathan studied me.
“Clara, are you angry?”
“No.”
“You have the exact expression you used when the contractor installed the wrong windows at Harbor House.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Okay.”
He started to leave.
That somehow made me angrier.
“Nathan.”
He turned.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His face softened.
“I didn’t think I had the right.”
“You could have told me as a friend.”
“Are we friends?”
That question landed.
I didn’t know.
Nathan looked toward the windows.
“I spent a year learning that loving someone doesn’t give me a claim on them.”
“Nathan—”
“No. I need to say this once.”
He met my eyes.
“I still love you.”
My breath caught.
“I probably always will. But I’m not going to turn that into pressure. You rebuilt your life. I’m proud of you.”
“Stop sounding like you’re saying goodbye.”
“I am saying goodbye.”
I hated how much that hurt.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
He froze.
The room continued around us.
People talking.
Glasses clinking.
Ordinary sounds.
Just like our anniversary dinner.
Except this time, my world wasn’t ending.
It was waiting.
Nathan spoke carefully.
“Clara, what are you saying?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He smiled sadly.
“Then figure it out before you say something because you’re afraid I’m leaving.”
He had changed.
The old Nathan would have grabbed the opportunity.
Promised everything.
Kissed me.
The man standing before me protected my uncertainty even when certainty would benefit him.
I went home.
I didn’t sleep.
At 5:30 the next morning, I drove to the waterfront.
I photographed sunrise.
Then I drove to Nathan’s townhouse.
He answered wearing sweatpants and an old college shirt.
“Clara?”
“I have conditions.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Do you want to hear them?”
“Yes.”
“Therapy continues.”
“Yes.”
“No secrets disguised as protection.”
“Yes.”
“No pretending the affair never happened.”
His expression became serious.
“Absolutely.”
“If I ask something about Victoria, you answer.”
“Yes.”
“If this fails, we don’t destroy each other trying to keep it alive.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not marrying you.”
Nathan blinked.
“I didn’t ask.”
“I know. I’m getting ahead of you.”
A smile tugged at his mouth.
“What exactly are you proposing?”
“One date.”
His smile disappeared.
“One?”
“One.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Nathan.”
“Sorry.”
I almost laughed.
“Friday.”
“I leave Monday.”
“I know.”
He nodded.
“Friday.”
Our second first date happened at the same waterfront restaurant where our marriage ended.
Nathan thought I was insane.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Same corner table.
Same candle.
Different people.
Nathan ordered sparkling water.
I stared at it.
“Seriously?”
He shrugged.
“I want to remember everything you say tonight.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
For a second we were twenty-eight and thirty again.
But nostalgia wasn’t enough.
So we talked.
About ugly things.
Victoria.
Loneliness.
Resentment.
My disappearing career.
His obsession with success.
My habit of fixing everything quietly instead of demanding change.
His habit of interpreting silence as permission.
There were no villains in some parts of our marriage.
Just two people who stopped communicating.
But the affair belonged to Nathan.
He never tried to distribute responsibility for it.
That mattered.
At the end of dinner, his phone buzzed.
We both looked.
Then we laughed.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“My sister.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
He answered.
It was mundane.
His nephew needed advice about a car.
When he hung up, I realized how extraordinary ordinary honesty could feel after betrayal.
Outside, Nathan walked me to my car.
“Do I get another date?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Denver complicates things.”
“Maybe Denver is useful.”
“How?”
“We can’t fall back into old habits from fifteen hundred miles apart.”
He considered that.
“So we start over?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“We don’t get to erase what happened.”
“What do we do?”
“Build something new.”
Nathan’s eyes filled.
He did not kiss me.
He waited.
So I kissed him.
Slowly.
Briefly.
When I stepped back, he looked almost stunned.
“That wasn’t forgiveness,” I said.
“I know.”
“It wasn’t a promise.”
“I know.”
“It was a kiss.”
His smile appeared.
“I remember what those are.”
I rolled my eyes.
Then he became serious.
“I’ll wait as long as you need.”
“No.”
His face fell slightly.
I smiled.
“Don’t wait. Live. So will I. We’ll see whether the people we become still choose each other.”
Three days later, Nathan moved to Denver.
For the next year, we dated across two time zones.
Bad video calls.
Delayed flights.
Therapy sessions.
Arguments.
Honest apologies.
Long weekends.
Separate homes.
Separate lives.
Slowly, something returned.
Not trust exactly.
Trust didn’t return.
It grew again.
Different roots.
Different soil.
Then, fourteen months after Nathan left Charleston, he called me at midnight.
“I need to tell you something before you hear it from someone else.”
My heart immediately raced.
“What happened?”
“Victoria contacted me.”
Silence.
Every old wound opened at once.
“Why?”
“She’s coming to Charleston.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“For what?”
Nathan took a breath.
“She wants to meet both of us.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because she found something that belonged to your father.”
