Page 46 of Nora
“Your life now was shaped by what happened to her and the years that followed,” she said. “Perhaps that kind of relationshipwouldbe exhausting for you now. But who you are now, and what you want now, is shaped by your loss. If you’d never experienced that—if Alessandra hadn’t been murdered—who’s to say what you would want or what would appeal to you in a relationship?”
Long minutes passed before he spoke again. “It feels like a betrayal to even think it.”
“Of?”
“Of my marriage vows. Of the love I know we had for each other.”
His answer didn’t surprise her. She wasn’t about to point out that if Alessandra loved him, she’d want him to be happy. Nor was she going to point out that spending his time thinking about whether he and his wife would have stayed together had she not died was a sure way to make himself crazy.
“When my mother died, my father went into deep mourning,” she said. “For more than a year he struggled with everything. He didn’t want to be in the house she’d lived in, he didn’t want to see her friends or eat at the restaurants she loved. He kept the four of us kids close. Then one day, it was as if he flicked a switch and he changed. I remember he called us all to lunch and said that he was done mourning. He told us he’d always miss her and always love her, but that the time for sadness was over. I don’t actually think it was that easy for him, but from then on, we spent more time talking about the things we loved about her. The things that made us smile and laugh. We didn’t shy away from the hard things, from the times she lost her temper or lashed out. But when we remembered those, it was easier to remember them as part of a complex person we loved and who loved us back.”
“Is that your gentle way of telling me that I shouldn’t torture myself with questions about whether we would have made it had she not died?” His voice held a subtle teasing tone that let her know she hadn’t overstepped.
“You know it’s not,” she said with a soft chuckle. “People mourn differently, but I am curious as to what made you think about it. You’re a smart man, Lucian. Torturing yourself over something that isn’t ever going to happen doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”
He exited off the turnpike and headed north on Interstate 91. They were ten minutes past the tollbooth before he spoke again. “Maybe like you, my life isn’t where I thought it would be. And thinking about Alessandra, and her murder, gives me something to blame it on. It doesn’t have to be my fault if everything wrong started with her death.”
“So instead of making it right, you’re thinking of what your life would be like if it had never happened?”
He chuckled in the dark car. “Which is all kinds of fucked up, because instead of romanticizing how perfect our life would be, I’m thinking we would have ended up divorced. I know,” he said, lifting a hand from the steering wheel, “it makes no sense, and yet somehow, I can’t seem to get out of this spiral.”
Nora turned her head and looked out the window. It was a quarter moon, and she could make out shades of shadows in the bucolic hills and occasional lights.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not much better. I want a partner. I want kids. But I hate dating. And I don’t understand why it’s so hard to find someone. I don’t think I’m a hideous person—either physically, mentally, or emotionally. And I know my own value, my own worth. Yet with each failed date, I end up asking, what is it about me that isn’tenough?”
“You know those men are idiots, don’t you?”
She laughed, the sound quiet in the cab. “Yes, it makes no sense and yet somehow I can’t seem to get out of this spiral,” she repeated his own words.
Lucian smiled. A real smile. “If I had a glass of wine or any sort of drink, I’d raise a toast to us.”
“And our inexplicable spirals,” she said.
“And our inexplicable spirals.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
When Lucianand Nora walked into the residence hall, Willa, Sophie, Craig, Jonah, Anne, and Collin were still in the lounge. Craig and Willa were in the middle of a pool game while the others were playing a game of cards.
“You’re home early,” Jonah said.
“She couldn’t stand to be away from me,” Collin said with a teasing wink. “No one’s man enough for her after meeting me.”
Nora smiled and shook her head. “You still up for the hike tomorrow, Willa?”
“At that nature reserve? Definitely. I’ll be ready at eight-thirty.”
“What’s this?” Craig asked.
“A reserve Nora found not far from here. We’re going for a hike,” Willa answered.
“Why was I not invited?” Craig asked.
“Or me,” echoed Collin, followed by everyone else saying something similar.
Nora’s phone pinged in her purse and, holding a finger up to the group, she withdrew the device and looked at her screen. It was a message from Cyn. She flashed it at Lucian, who nodded but didn’t say anything. “I need to get this. I can seat three other people in my car, four if you want to squeeze, but all the dogs will have to fit in as well. If you can figure that out, however many of you can fit are welcome to join us.” She didn’t really want to invite everyone, but she was the one who’d opened her mouth. She should have known better with Craig, Collin, and Jonah around.
She nodded to Lucian who, thankfully, didn’t follow her up—with Collin and Jonah in the room there would be no end to the juvenile teasing. Hurrying to the third floor, she texted Cyn telling her she’d call her in ten minutes. Her clothing was comfortable for what it was, but she wanted to change and wash her face.
