Page 100 of Best I Never Had

“Good night, Hayden,” I finally say, my voice devoid of potency, making me sound helpless and scared. When an uneasy chill travels up my spine, I wrap my jacket inward, hoping the violent shiver is from the bitter cold rather than the overwhelming hurt coursing through me.

In response, he scoffs before saying, “Good night, Natalia.” He turns to walk away, and I get a good view of his backside, where the frustration is set in his tense shoulders and his harsh steps show every ounce of anger coursing through him.

40

Natalia

present

It takes aboutseven deep breaths and clenching and unclenching my fists multiple times before I’m able to walk through the restaurant doors. Tears threaten to fall, but I rein them in, trying to erase my conversation with Hayden from my mind.

As soon as I walk in, before the hostess is able to greet me, Shawn looks up and waves with a buoyant smile from the table, looking the complete opposite of what I’m feeling right now. I weave between the tables, walking my way toward Shawn as he stands to greet me. We do a half hug, him leaning into me with one hand pressed to my back, before we both take our seats.

“I was worried you were going to blow me off,” he says.

Whilehe’s joking, there’s concern written on his face as he reads my expression. With my brow furrowed and a light frown that I can’t seem to turn up, I don’t blame him. And instead of contradicting him by laughing at his joke, I look up at him with sad eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I tilt my head to the side. Just enough for my answer to be confusing. Not a yes, not a no. Shawn clears his throat, his smile faltering and eyes softening as he sees me on the brink of tears.

“Uh, did you…I mean, we don’t have to do this.”

When the first tear falls, my hand moves quickly to wipe it. I laugh, baffled that I’m crying on my first first date in years. “I’m so sorry,” I say between my watered-down chuckles.

He smiles, his kind eyes void of judgment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head and smile. “No, I’m okay.”

He nods, and his eyes scan the table as he splays his hands on the white tablecloth. I don’t look up at him. Instead, I fix my gaze on the pronged edges of the fork sitting at my right. My breathing starts to come out in staggered sighs, and he clears his throat.

“Natalia,” he says softly. I finally look up. “We can do this another time. Or never.”

I smile, the tears pooling along the edges of my eyes again.

“I would hate for the chef to think that the pasta here’s so bad it made you cry.”

A fresh wave of tears causes my throat to clog just as a weak huff of laughter slips through my lips. How easy would it be if this could be something? How simple would it be if we could get through this date, have dinner with a couple of good-natured laughs sprinkled in between and a long good night kiss? But that’s not what this is.

I smile, the inner corners of my brows turning up with everything from appreciation to apology because Shawn doesn’t deserve any of this.

“I’m so sorry,” I say again.

“It’s fine,” he whispers, reaching for my hand. And I leave before I start crying into the still-warm bread.

I’m leaning up against the door with my hands gripping the wooden doorframe. I didn’t go home like I should have. Instead, I spent the last hour trying to hail a cab and crossing the bridge to Hayden’s apartment. All while boiling over my feelings for him.

Luckily, when I arrived at his apartment building, the door swung open as someone was leaving, allowing me swift access inside. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him, why I came here. But I know that I can’t just go home. Not when the pent-up anger in my chest keeps telling me to confront Hayden and demand answers.

He was the one who broke our kiss. He was the one who pulled away, making me wonder if he regretted it, if he wished it never happened. Why the hell was he so upset? Was he actually jealous that I went on this date? As I ask myself these questions, coming up with dozens of possible answers that makes the confusion swirling in my head become torrent, my heart starts to flounder over the thought that maybe it all means something. Maybe the feelings I have for Hayden stirred something in my heart, and the result is anger. Confusing, frustrating anger.

The door finally swings open. Hayden stands on the other side, his glasses on and eyes bleary, dressed in a plain white undershirt and plaid boxers.

“Nat? What are you doing here?”

“I left my date at the restaurant.”

There’s a beat of silence as he rubs his hands over his face, his glasses lifting slightly in the process. When he doesn’t say anything, the frustration inside me builds even higher.

---