That very night he called me. When I didn't answer he sent me a text, asking me to call him back. The next day he called me. He left a voice mail, which I refused to listen to. He called me the day after that. And thus began a daily dose of Nate.
So many times I had to catch myself. I wanted to pick up. I wanted to pick up because he was obviously sorry he'd hurt me. I got it. I understood. However, it didn't change anything. It didn't change the fact that being around him was too hard.
So I decided to go to the wedding with Ben that next Saturday.
Seemingly a staple of every Scottish wedding, the Proclaimers filled the wedding tent with their promises while I sat huddled beside Ben at our table. I'd told him countless times to go off and mingle with his family, but he'd told me that the whole point of bringing a stranger to the wedding was to have an excuse not to have to do that.
More and more he proved to me that he was funny and charming, and that I'd be a complete idiot not to give him a shot.
'Can I get you another drink?' he asked, nudging my nearly empty champagne glass.
Ruefully, I shook my head. 'The last wedding I was at I got shamefully drunk and ended up saying things I now regret.'
He smiled mischievously. 'Now I definitely want to get you drunk.'
I laughed. 'No, you don't.'
'So … what was it you said that you regret?'
'It's not really what I said, it's what saying it led to.'
'And what was that?'
'A broken heart.' I winced as soon as I said it. 'God, Ben, I'm sorry. I'm the worst wedding date in history.'
He gave me a sympathetic smile. 'You know what might make it up to me?'
'What's that?'
'Tell me about him. Nate.' He guessed correctly. 'What happened? It might help.'
I shook my head. 'You don't want to listen to that.'
'What if I go first?'
Of course my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know about Ben's big heartbreak. Just as I was about to agree, my cell rang. With an apologetic smile, I reached for my clutch and pulled out the phone.
I got goose bumps all over when I saw the caller ID.
Nate.
Did he know I was on a date? Was that why he was calling? Angry that he kept interrupting my life, I shoved the phone back in my purse.
Ben gestured to it. 'Was that him?'
'How did you guess?'
'Because I'm fairly certain I get that look in my eye anytime my ex tries to contact me.'
'What look?'
'That "if-I-could-tear-you-to-shreds-with-my-incisors-I-would-why-won't-you-get-out-of-my-life-you-crazy-bitch" or in his case "crazy bastard" look.'
I laughed humorlessly. 'Close. It's more like … I keep trying to get back to who I was before this happened, and every time someone says his name or he calls, it reminds me that I probably won't ever get back to that person because … he was a part of who I was then.'
We sat in silence for a moment.
Finally Ben took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. 'One day you'll wake up and he won't be the first thing you think about.'
'Promise?'
'I promise.'
My cell rang again, jarring the sweet atmosphere between us. Growling in frustration, I reached for my purse, ready to switch off the damn phone, but then I saw it was Jo calling this time.
For some reason I felt an unpleasant dip in my belly.
'I'm sorry,' I told Ben. 'It's my friend. I should answer her.'
'Of course.'
'Jo?' I asked as I put the phone to my ear.
'Liv' – she sounded out of breath – 'Liv, Nate tried to call you. Something's happened.'
'What is it?' I asked, instantly panicked. 'Is he okay?'
'He's … His dad's been rushed to hospital.'
I got a taxi from the wedding as quickly as possible, but it took me almost an hour from the time Jo called to get to the hospital. The whole time I was begging and pleading with whatever divine being might exist in this world to help Nathan. Jo said they thought he'd suffered a heart attack.
I practically threw the cab fare at my driver and dashed out of the car, hurrying inside the main entrance of the hospital.
Please, please, let Nathan be okay. Please.
He was such a good man.
And Nate cannot take more loss.
As I hurried toward the main reception to ask after Nathan, his son's voice called my name and I stopped, my eyes following it. Nate stood in the middle of the crowded waiting room, looking pale and haggard.
I moved toward him, drinking him in. The beard was gone, but the eyes were still dark, and now his mouth was pinched with worry. Sitting behind him were Sylvie, Cam, Cole, and Jo. Sylvie was tearing a Kleenex into pieces. She reminded me of a frightened animal, the way she kept staring round-eyed at the doors beyond.
'Nate – ' I stopped hesitantly before him, not sure if I should hug him but wanting to. 'Is there any word?'
He shook his head, his eyes bleak. 'They took him into surgery. No one's come out yet.'