Page 44 of How Freaking Romantic

I spend the elevator ride up to the law offices of Hayes, Patel I had forgotten almost everything as I marched to the subway, took it to Midtown, and got out at his building.

I didn’t even stop as I stalked through the lobby, just mumbled to the wide eyes of the men at the security desk that I was going up to Hayes, Patel I am solely focused on the mission at hand.

Of course, it’s only once the elevator doors open onto the wall displaying the law firm’s name in giant gold letters that I remember that I yet again forgot my hammer.

The woman at the front desk blanches when I emerge.

Her phone is to her ear, and I can only assume security already called up to warn her about my arrival.

She’s probably calling Nathan right now.

But I don’t care. My attention is zeroed in on the closed office door ahead.

I keep my steps even and my chin high, a Herculean effort considering the rage coursing through my body.

There’s another woman sitting at the desk outside Nathan’s office, and her eyes widen when she sees me. Her mouth is agape and her phone to her ear, but she doesn’t try to stop me as I walk past and throw open the door.

Nathan is sitting at his desk when I enter. And damn him, he looks good. Really good. Calm, composed, his suit untouched by the rain, and his short hair perfectly combed away from his beautiful face.

“Thanks, Vanessa. Yes, let me know when he’s downstairs,” he says, and hangs up the phone.

“What part of ‘do not call me’ do you not understand?” I screech.

And it really is a screech. My voice is so loud and so high that I should be embarrassed, but I’m too close to tears to care.

“I don’t care if Josh told you everything, I didn’t want to hear from you! I blocked your number for a reason!”

He slowly stands. “Bea—”

“And then you leave a message like that on my work voicemail?” I take a step closer to his desk, close enough that my flailing arms send droplets of rain onto the papers in front of him.

“That’s like cc’ing the entire faculty! You can’t air your dirty laundry in front of my colleagues like that just because you feel like it! ”

A little voice in the back of my head is whispering about the irony of the situation right now, but I ignore it, letting my anger swallow up every other emotion in my body.

I need it to; I can’t let myself feel even an ounce of the pain or the love or the hurt that’s trying to break through, because I know I’ll crumble.

A blubbering, pathetic mess lying in the middle of Nathan’s pristine marble floor.

He frowns. “Listen—”

“That’s not okay, Nate! Why did you think you can do that?”

“Because I love you, Bea.” Nathan’s voice booms through the room, and I hear a dozen bodies turning to look at us through the door behind me.

“I think I’ve loved you since that first moment you burst in here and called me an asshole.

” Nathan’s blue eyes stayed locked on me while someone in the office behind me laughs, and a handful of people shush them.

“I love you so fucking much that it scared me to death. And if you were going to hurt me… I couldn’t survive it.

So I left first. And I’m sorry for that.

I don’t need you to forgive me. I just needed you to know. ”

He’s staring at me, waiting. And I don’t know what to say, because the anger is now battling against an entirely new emotion: regret.

“You know the worst part?” I say, my voice suddenly cracking. “I love you, too. So fucking much that I wanted to run, I wanted to find a way to cut you loose. Because I knew I would get hurt. But you made me stay. And then it happened anyway!”

“I know,” he replies.

His tone is flat; his face is unreadable. That’s when I’m struck with the realization that despite the declaration, he didn’t say he wanted me back. He didn’t even ask. He only apologized. And I realize I may have gotten this situation all wrong.

I swallow, working to dislodge the lump in my throat, when the phone on his desk rings.

The sound feels like the thunder outside, so loud and unexpected that my heart jumps.

But then it plummets through the floor as he picks up the receiver.

I’m pouring my heart out to you and you’re taking a phone call?

I want to scream. But the words are caught in my chest, and I know if I claw them free, tears will follow.

Endless, endless tears, and those have to wait.

“Yes?” he answers. He listens for a moment, his attention down on his desk. “Thanks. Yes, just have him wait down there.”

He hangs up and brings his attention back to me.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I keeping you? Do you need to find a way to get rid of the belligerent woman before your next meeting? Well, don’t worry about it. I’m leaving. Wouldn’t want to interrupt all those billable hours, right?”

He doesn’t reply. I expect him to protest, to offer some explanation, but he simply looks sad. So… broken. And I hate how I want to go and hold him and make that broken thing go away.

Instead, I shake my head again. “Goodbye, Nate.”

And I turn and leave.

The office is absolutely silent as I stalk back down the hall, a dozen eyes watching me press the call button for the elevator and wait an eternity until one arrives. When it does, I escape inside as if it’s a lifeboat. And maybe it is, because right now I definitely feel like I’m drowning.

I want to stay angry at Nathan; I grasp at the threads of it, trying to hold on, but those threads break under the weight of the pain.

I press the lobby button again and again and manage to hold it together until the doors close.

As soon as they do, I let go. The tears burst forth, rolling down my cheeks as I let out an ugly sob.

My whole body shudders under the force of it, and I brace myself against the wall.

The anger is gone, a Potemkin village that folds under this wave of pain and grief and regret.

I’m vaguely aware that the elevator doors open on the third floor, that an older man is there waiting to enter the car, but when he sees me—mascara running under a mess of matted curls, wiping my nose on my sleeve—he slowly takes a step back into the hallway and lets the doors close again.

The elevator continues down and finally opens on the lobby. I step out, ignoring the men at the security desk again, who are eyeing me with concern. They don’t stop me, only watch as I make my way to the glass doors that lead to the sidewalk.

It’s storming even harder than it was when I arrived a few minutes ago.

Sheets and sheets of rain billow in the wind as cars speed past, as thunder rumbles in the distance.

I stand just outside the doors, letting it envelop me.

I know I need to go back to my office to get my bag and keys before I go home.

But I can only stand there as the truth hits me.

It’s over.

The knowledge should make the next part—the leaving—easy.

But it doesn’t feel easy. This feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Especially when it would be so simple to stay.

Not easy, just simple.

“Fuck,” I mutter, letting my head fall forward into my hands.

“Ms. Nilsson?”

The voice comes from my left, just as an umbrella appears above my head. I turn to see one of the men from the security desk, now at my side. He has a brass name badge that says Gary, and he’s holding the umbrella so it covers me completely, sacrificing half his body to the rain.

My brain can’t compute the moment, so all I say is “Hi.”

His expression becomes more concerned as he takes in my blotchy skin, my bloodshot eyes. “Are you all right?”

Oh, Gary, where do I start?

“I’m fine,” I manage to say, my chin beginning to tremble again.

He smiles like he doesn’t believe me at all. “Are you ready to go?”

I blink. “What?”

“Your car is parked at the curb,” he says, nodding to the black Suburban just ahead that I hadn’t noticed before.

I look at the car and then back to Gary. “What?” I repeat dumbly.

“Mr. Asher called down and told us to escort you. The driver will take you wherever you need to go. Do you want—”

I shake my head. “But… why would he do that?”

“The driver?”

“No. Nathan.”

Gary shrugs. “Well, he probably wants you to get home safe.”

My mouth falls open, the words faltering on my tongue. “I… I thought…”

I thought he was done with me. The way he had looked at me upstairs, how he hadn’t said anything, the phone call… I had assumed he didn’t care anymore.

And there it is. The punch in the gut that takes the breath from my lungs. I had assumed. Been so concerned with not getting hurt that I had come to a conclusion and run with it. I had assumed the worst to protect myself. Just like he had.

Gary watches my expression and nods. “Yeah. Love’s a bitch like that.”

I let out a long breath. Shit .

The entire floor is humming when I step off the elevator again, a cacophony of phones and keyboards and conversation.

But as I march back down the hall, a wave seems to pass over each row of desks, a systematic silencing of every sound as all eyes follow me until I reach the end and throw open Nathan’s office door.

I know the receptionist has called down to him, probably warning him that the crazy woman is back, because he still has the phone to his ear. He stares at me as I march toward him so my hips are flush with his desk.

“What the fuck was that?” I say. My clothes are dripping wet, and I know there’s a pool of water growing at my feet, but I don’t care.

He puts down the phone slowly, like any sudden movement might scare me away. “I didn’t want you out in this storm.”

“That’s none of your business! You can’t just put me in a car when you feel like it! Or worry about how I’m getting home! You can’t care about me anymore, and… you can’t… you can’t…”

I can feel the eyes watching us from the hallway behind me. Watching him as he stands, a soft expression on his face.

“Yes I can, Bea,” he says. “It’s simple.”

The hard line of my lips begins to tremble, and just like that, the last of my armor is gone.

I don’t know how he got around the desk, only that he’s in front of me in an instant, picking me up and crushing me to his body.

“I love you, Bea. I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs into my hair, my skin.

My arms wrap around his neck, holding so tight that there’s no space left between us. “I love you, too, you stupid asshole.”

Cheers and clapping erupt from the hall, but I barely hear it as his lips find mine. I never thought I would feel this again, and I need to soak in as much as I can. To keep him close and never let go.

The applause continues, and Nathan curses under his breath as he turns us just enough to kick the door closed with his foot. Except when he tries, it suddenly feels like we’re off-balance. It’s only as he stumbles back that I look down to see the huge puddle at our feet.

He tries to catch himself, but he keeps slipping forward and then back again, and then suddenly we’re falling.

“Shit!” he bellows.

I yelp and reach out for something, anything, but only manage to take a chair with us; it crashes down next to the desk, making the floor tremble.

A moment of stillness follows, with Nathan flat on his back and me straddling him, my sodden hair dripping rainwater all over his pristine suit.

“OH MY GOD! Mr. Asher!” someone blurts out, and suddenly the cheering is yelling, people running, someone asking if they need to call 911.

But I can’t move. The laughter bubbles up before I can stop it, taking over my body so I can barely breathe.

Nathan is looking up at me, an eyebrow cocked and a grin teasing his lips. Then he reaches up to brush a few stray curls from my forehead.

“So, is this romantic?” he asks, his smile broadening to reveal his dimple.

I nod. “Absolutely.”

“Thank God,” he says. And then he pulls me down to kiss me again.

My body relaxes into him, and I forget to notice the chaos swirling around us. The people yelling or the wet floor or his now-sodden suit. It’s just him and me, arms around each other as we hold our breath and fall.