Страница 41 из 42
I turned on the car, backed out of the driveway, and it was over.
Chapter Thirty-six
At the theatre the next day, I barely spoke to anyone. Rarely left the office unless I absolutely had to. Didn’t bother making my usual rounds. Just generally didn’t give a shit. I couldn’t even muster the energy to put my feet up on my desk as I always did.
Dylan gave up trying to shoot the breeze with me, and our employees avoided me like the plague. I hadn’t snapped at anyone, but they must have sensed the change in my demeanor. Even some of the less perceptive employees got the message quickly enough and got out of the office as fast as they could.
I wasn’t usually one to let my personal life interfere with my professionalism, but everyone has their breaking point. Like anyone else, I had been known to buckle when the weight on my shoulders became too much.
Ironically, I couldn’t really describe it as a weight on my shoulders. If anything, it was a weight off my shoulders, and that realization just made it hurt more. Knowing that I was better off without Nathan didn’t make it any easier to let him go.
I loved him, but love doesn’t do anyone a damned bit of good without trust, so I had to take my leave. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. It was a relief.
But damn if didn’t hurt like hell.
The day crawled by, but was mercifully uneventful. Dylan took care of firing our resident thieves. He handled it partly because I’d fired the last person, and partly because he knew I simply lacked the energy to even engage an employee in a stern conversation, let alone terminate them.
The cursed projector managed to keep the reels turning all day without a problem, and for that I was especially grateful. Not only did I doubt my ability to concentrate enough to fix it, but doing so meant going into that room. For the first time, I regretted fooling around with Nathan in there, and wondered how long it would be before I could go into the projector room and ignore his ghost.
After the last showing cleared out and the theatre was cleaned and ready for the next day, everyone clocked out and left. I stayed behind, reconciling some ticket-sales figures in the box office. It could wait until tomorrow, but it gave me an excuse not to go back to my empty apartment just yet.
Someone knocked on the glass, and I glared at them through the opaque shade.
“What part of ‘closed’ don’t you people understand?” I muttered, keeping my voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry past the window. I shook my head and focused on the papers in front of me, ignoring a second and third knock on the glass. They’d get the message sooner or-
Clip-clap.
The metallic sound sent a shiver down my spine and my head snapped up. I stared at the drawn shade as if I expected to suddenly gain X-ray vision and see right through it. But I didn’t need to see through it.
Like the match being struck on the stage at Epidaurus, the sound of that Zippo lighter took my breath away. Never had a sound so small echoed so loudly through my consciousness. In my mind’s eye, the flame flickered to life, and something deep inside me did the same.
Clap.
With my heart in my throat, I reached for the pull on the window shade. I opened the shade and couldn’t breathe when sight confirmed what all my other senses already knew.
Nathan.
His back was to me, but he must have heard the shade, because he turned around, the cigarette stopping just inches from his parted lips. Our eyes met through the glass and the silver glow of the streetlights. His Adam’s apple bobbed once, then he took a drag off the cigarette and watched me through the thin stream of smoke he exhaled.
I pointed toward the door beside the box office and stood, giving him a give me a second gesture before I stepped out of his sight. As I shut the box office behind me, I leaned against it for a moment, eyeing the door I’d indicated to Nathan, trying to decide just why my heart pounded so fucking hard.
Part of me wanted to be relieved and thrilled to see him.
Part of me wanted to hate him for showing up after I’d left.
I don’t want to see you again. Thank God you’re here.
And why? Why was he here?
“Only one way to find out,” I said aloud. Taking a deep breath, I went to the door and turned the lock.
He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it with the toe of his shoe, kicking it into the street before following me into the theatre. I locked the door and faced him. Standing just a few feet apart, we looked at each other in silence.
Aside from the faint glow from the box office and the cool fluorescent lights behind the concession stand, the lobby was dark. The only sound was the buzz of the refrigerators behind the counter.
The tiny lobby suddenly seemed huge, the empty space around us practically begging me to step away, to widen the narrow void between us. But I didn’t move.
“Nathan,” I said, saying his name as if it somehow made this situation more u
He shifted his weight. “Got a few minutes?”
Get the fuck out of here. I wet my lips. For you, I have all the time in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I have a few.”
“Listen, I-” He paused, shifting once more and taking a deep breath, furrowing his brow as if rethinking his approach at the last possible second. Then he released his breath and looked me in the eye. “I came to apologize.”
Time seemed to stand still. Confusion made it almost impossible to breathe as I tried to gauge how I should react.
I wanted to lash out. Oh, Nathan, we are long past anything an apology can repair. I wanted to reach out. You don’t have the faintest clue how much I love you, do you? I wanted him to get out. I’m better off without you, no matter how much it hurts.
I kept my expression neutral, which didn’t take a lot of effort. My emotions contradicted each other so dramatically they cancelled each other out, leaving me feeling something close to nothing.
Time rolled forward again as I finally managed to draw a breath. I cleared my throat. “Okay…”
“You were right about why I was here last night,” he said.
I tightened my jaw. “So you-”
“Let me finish,” he said quietly. “You were right. You were absolutely right. I should have trusted you, and I didn’t. Not as much as I should have.” He swallowed hard. “Zach, I’m sorry. I never should have doubted you as much as I have. You’ve never given me any reason not to trust you.” Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a long breath in through his nose. “The truth is…” He paused, chewing his lip and staring at the floor between us.
“What?”
Squaring his shoulders, he looked me in the eye. “The truth is that I do trust you,” he said. “I trust you more than I have anyone else. Ever. I have from the begi
“That doesn’t make sense.” The words came out sharper than I intended. Gentler this time, I said, “Nathan, why would you want to distrust me?”
He held my gaze, though it seemed to take a great deal of effort. “Because it was safer that way.”
“Safer? How-” I stopped when the pe
What he didn’t give me, I couldn’t break.
I took a breath. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”
He nodded, exhaling slowly and looking anywhere but directly at me. I was surprised he hadn’t needed another cigarette. At this rate, I was tempted to have one. Or maybe he did need one, but wanted to settle this before either of us left this room.