Page 112 of Best I Never Had

He tilts an imaginary hat. “Anytime.”

I step out into the cold winter air and face the car as it drives off as Shawn waves at me from the closed window. I shift on my feet as I turn to get into the warm comfort of my home.

It’s then that I see a figure stand from the steps leading up to my apartment. When he comes to a full standing position, I finally see his face. It’s Hayden, walking toward me with his head hung low.

45

Hayden

two years ago

“Mom,don’t worry. I’ll be there,” I call through the phone breathlessly to my mom on the other end.

I’m speed walking toward Au Revoir, the French bistro I’ve been working at as a pastry chef for the past three years, with the view of the reflective windows from the conservatory to my right.

“Okay,” she answers, unconvinced. “I just know how things can be between you and your dad. I don’t want you two to be all cross with each other for Thanksgiving dinner.”

I sigh. While this is something that’s caused a constant strain in our family dynamic, it seems pointless for her to continue to worry about something inevitable. My dad and I, we’re always going to disagree. It seems to be our nature and something that’s gotten worse over the years.

“I’ll play nice,” I offer, approaching Au Revoir. “Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” she answers. “Let me know your flight details so we can pick you up at the airport.”

“I will.”

As soon as I walk through the doors, glad to be out of the cold weather that seemed to have become increasingly chilly overnight, my eye catches on something bright and orange near the bakery side of the restaurant. When I look, I see a lone scarf draped over the back of a chairfacing the window. I walk over, taking the scarf in my hands. It’s warm and soft, as if the person wearing it left it behind only minutes ago.

I walk over to the register with the scarf in my hand just as a wave of something familiar hits my senses.

That smell…

I bring the scarf up closer to my face, realizing that the smell, like warmth and vanilla and home, is coming from the warm fibers lining the cashmere material.

Everything reminiscent and wistful hits me in the chest. My entire body feels like it’s levitating, being transported back to a small classroom where inside it, I existed inside a bubble with a certain seventeen-year-old girl beside me. Everything about it reminds me of a time years ago, when so many things in my life felt unsure, there was a moment when hope bloomed and goodbyes were measured.

“Is everything okay, Hayden?” I look up to see Janet, our hostess-slash-cashier, behind the register in the bakery.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer. “I guess someone left this behind.” I reluctantly extend the scarf, not wanting to part with it, and Janet takes it from me.

“I’ll hold on to it in case someone claims it.”

“Thanks.” I nod before walking into the kitchen.

present

I sat andwatched. I watched as she smiled sweetly at her date, her round eyes looking at him while he looked at her with every flicker of heat that radiated through his body. I felt it coming off of him even from where I was sitting. I watched as she politely stepped away, opening and closing the cab door before it drove off.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t fucking be here watching her come home from a date with another man. Watching as she moves on from everything that I want to share with her. But then she looks at me, her steps coming to a slow stop on the sidewalk as I walk toward her, not even bothering to fight this current that always seems to pull me closer to her.

Seeing her here now, it feels like a dream. I miss her sofuckingmuch. And every second after she walked out of my apartment, I wanted so badly to tell her everything. About how I’m so scared to lose her again. How losing her when we were seventeen felt like losing a part of myself. I want more than anything to reach out to her, talk to her as if nothing has changed and the next time I would see her would be sitting in the classroom with her legs tucked underneath the lab table and her elbows resting on her opened binder.

“I—” I start to say. But then my words are cut short. Because she closes the space between us in three short strides. Her hair billows behind her as the cold wind blows past her. I hear her whimper, her breathing growing staggered as she crashes into me. Her body, so warm and so full ofeverything that makes her my Natalia, hits mine like her next breath depends on it.

My entire body wants to give in. To collapse to my knees while I hold her, not even bothering to tell her how I feel and letting my tears do the talking. I want to, but I know that I need to explain to her. She needs to know how I feel with words and promises. No more sitting on my feelings, letting them remain as questions that I’m too scared to answer. She needs to know how much I care about her, how much I love her.

“Nat,” I rasp.

I hear her sniffle, her hold on me loosening. And just as I’m about to protest, she looks at me. Tears pool along the rims of her eyes as the tip of her nose reddens. Her lips scrunch together in a small pout, and the little crease between her brows fissures as the bubbling anger spills through her tears. What were tears of sadness and relief a second ago turn into anger and resentment. As a loose sob breaks from her lips, she starts pounding her fists into my chest.

---