CHAPTER 33
NATE
The flight back to Chicago was so quiet, it felt unnatural. It was just Kate and me, but she didn’t even sit next to me.
With Alex and Jane already back in Chicago, the jet felt too big with only the two of us in it, the cabin lights dimmed and the steady drone of the engines filling the silence that neither of us seemed willing to break.
The first thing I noticed when we boarded was that Kate had taken the seat across from me instead of the one beside me. She’d also angled herself toward the window, but she didn’t really seem to be looking out of it.
Instead, she just sat there, tense and silent. Perhaps staring inward, trying to untangle the knots inside.
For the first few minutes after takeoff, I stared at her from across the aisle, but even as I waited for her to look at me, to say something, I wasn’t really seeing her either. In my mind’s eye, there were only pages and pages of emails. Emma’s name popping up on my screen and how I’d smiled like an idiot whenever it had happened.
Kate didn’t even glance in my direction while I mentally relived it all. The confessions, the secrets we’d shared, and the inside jokes. My gaze lifted back to her, but when I found herstill staring at absolutely nothing, I realized she needed time to process all this, and frankly, so did I.
Essentially, the flight gave me two hours to myself. Two hours to think, to replay everything, and most importantly, two hours to feel so stupid, it actually hurt.
Of course I was attracted to Kate. I loved our banter and now I knew why. It was so similar to how I’d conversed with Emma, except that Emma was somehow softer. I dragged a hand down my face and leaned back in the seat.
Emma. Kate. Kate is Emma.
It made sense in a way that felt obvious now. Painfully so. Like I’d been staring at the answer for years and just refused to see it. I’d loved talking to Emma, the rhythm of it, the teasing, the back and forth, and the way she’d pushed me just enough to keep me sharp.
Just like Kate.
It had felt so familiar, but I hadn’t realized why. Emma’s softness hadn’t really been soft at all. It had been honesty and Kate when she was unguarded. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that softness wasn’t new to me with her.
I’d only recently started noticing the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide, but was so clear during the quieter moments. Emma had always felt like something private. Someone just for me. A version of herself that no one else got to see. And it turned out to have been true.
I’d just never understood why until now, but it was because, like me, Kate didn’t let people in on a whim. She didn’t get close to just anyone. It took time and effort with her, a certain level of dedication to prove you were worthy and wouldn’t disappoint or hurt her.
The plane touched down in Chicago, the moon disappearing behind a wall of heavy clouds. By the time we left the airstrip,the rain was coming down hard enough to blur the skyline into streaks of gray.
Neither of us said much on the drive back to the St. Regis. I was starting to wonder if we would ever talk again, but I left her to it, just listening to the sound of rain splattering against the car, grateful that it was loud enough to drown out my thoughts. At least partially.
We rode the elevator up in silence. If I was being honest, my head was still spinning. The hallway felt too narrow when we stepped out on our floor. Kate walked ahead of me, her heels soft against the carpet and her shoulders tight.
When she reached her door, she finally slowed and I was suddenly terrified that she would disappear completely if I let her go in there while things were so up in the air. Before I could think too much about it, I reached out and caught her elbow, gently turning her toward me instead of the door.
Her eyes were wide when they met mine, searching my face like she was trying to read something she didn’t understand yet. I stepped closer, crowding her space just enough that she couldn’t avoid me any longer.
“What the hell happened?” I asked quietly.
Her lips parted, but for a few seconds, nothing came out. Finally, she shook her head. “I, uh. I don’t?—”
“How did this happen?” I pressed. “Did you know? Did you have any idea?”
“No,” she said immediately. “God, no.”
“Did you have any suspicion at all?”
“No. Of Course not.” The answer came fast enough that I knew it was honest. Her tone also matched the shock I’d seen on her face in the park. Just moments before she’d dropped her phone like it had burned her hand when she’d realized.
She lifted her chin then, holding my gaze as she folded her arms. “Did you suspect anything?”
“No.” I scoffed. “Not even a little.”
If I had, it would’ve changed everything. Years ago.
