Page 39 of Anatomy of Us

“No idea?” He leans forward. His voice drops to a harsh whisper. “You put those ideas back in her head. Coming back. Being the best again. She has enough money to live forever, to give Wes anything she wants. And then you show up and what does she do? Instead of focusing on the baby, she chases fame again. It’s pathetic.”

“It wasn’t pathetic when she was the best and you were next to her.” My jaw aches from clenching. “And what you’re saying isn’t true.”

“Ask yourself something, Tessa.” Nate’s eyes glitter. “Does she want you, or does she just want not to be alone? Did she come back to you because it’s easier than risking something new? Or because you remind her of her glory days when you were the campus power couple?”

I dig my nails into my palms to hold control. He knows where to hit. He hits anyway.

“I already told you,” I say. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. If you think you know her—”

“I knew her for six years,” he cuts in, and every word turns into a blade. “I lived with her. I married her. I had a child with her. I woke up next to her every morning. I knew every version of Zoe. Happy. Sad. Furious. Vulnerable. The one you left wrecked because of you.” He leans in farther.“And you? You left when it got serious. You ran to another continent. Seven years without a call, without a text, without anything. And now you think you can come back and—”

“Stop!” I shout, losing it.

Nate smiles.

He wins.

“Does it hurt?” he asks. “Good. That’s the point.”

He stands, drops a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and walks toward the door.

“You know what the saddest part is?” he adds, sliding on his coat. “Deep down, she isn’t in love with you. She’s in love with what you used to be. With the ghost of something that died seven years ago.”

He leaves the café without looking back.

I sit there frozen.

I can’t move.

I breathe.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Nate’s words spin in my head. They drill straight through my ribs.

“Does she want you, or does she just want not to be alone?”

“You left her alone with a shitty letter.”

“The ghost of something that died seven years ago.”

A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it off with anger.

Because he’s right about some things. That’s what hurts most.

I ran to Munich. Zoe ran into a marriage she thought was safe. Deep down, we both have a habit of dodging what scares us.

I close my eyes. Breathe. The café noise returns in layers: the steam hiss from the espresso machine, someone laughing at the next table, a spoon clinking against a cup.

I think of Zoe.

The way she looked at me last night. Wesley asleep between us. The way her hand finds mine in the dark. The way she whispers “I love you” before she falls asleep.

Nate came to plant doubt.

He succeeded.

God, he succeeded.