Chapter 5 - Not Your Weapon, Not Your Medicine
After that night, Nathan did not kiss her again for nine days.
It annoyed her.
On the tenth, she finally asked, “Are you avoiding me?”
They were sitting in a diner at one in the morning because Nathan claimed the pancakes were better after midnight.
“No.”
“You haven’t touched me.”
“I’m touching your coffee.”
“You know what I mean.”
Nathan leaned back.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you to know whether kissing me was something you wanted or something you wanted Adrian to see.”
Claire went silent.
Nathan’s expression held no accusation.
Only truth.
“I don’t want to be your weapon,” he said. “And I don’t want to be your medicine.”
The words hurt because they were fair.
Claire stared at the rain sliding down the window.
“It started because of him.”
“I know.”
“That bothers you?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him sharply.
Nathan shrugged.
“I’m not going to lie because honesty might ruin the mood.”
Claire almost smiled.
“But,” he continued, “I also know the exact second you stopped thinking about him.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“You sound very confident.”
“I was there.”
She laughed.
Then grew quiet.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of feeling relieved because another man treats me better.”
Nathan considered that.
“Then don’t date me because I’m better than Adrian.”
“What?”
“Date me if you like me.”
He stole one of her fries.
“Those are different things.”
It was possibly the least romantic thing anyone had said to her.
It was also exactly what she needed.
So Claire began learning Nathan Mercer.
Not the rival.
Not the businessman.
The man.
He had grown up over his father’s hardware store in Pennsylvania. His mother died when he was seventeen. He hated bananas, loved old detective movies, and woke before sunrise even on Sundays because idleness still made some poor boy inside him afraid.
He was not perfect.
That mattered.
He worked too much.
He sometimes went silent when worried.
He could turn cold during conflict because anger frightened him.
Once, three months into their relationship, Nathan promised dinner at seven and arrived at eight-thirty without calling.
Claire had spent ninety minutes staring at the untouched table.
By eight-fifteen, she was no longer thirty-two years old.
She was every version of herself who had waited for Adrian.
Nathan walked in smiling apologetically.
“You won’t believe the day I—”
He saw her face.
Stopped.
“Claire?”
She stood.
“You could have called.”
His expression changed.
“You’re right.”
“I sat here.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her voice broke.
Nathan went still.
“I’ve done this before.”
He understood.
Not everything.
Enough.
He did not say she was overreacting.
Did not remind her he wasn’t Adrian.
He put his keys down.
“I messed up.”
Claire blinked.
“That’s it?”
“No excuse makes you wait without information.”
She crossed her arms tightly.
“I hate that this affects me so much.”
Nathan approached carefully.
“You don’t have to hate the scar because someone else made the wound.”
She looked away.
He touched her only after she reached for him.
The next morning, Nathan added a recurring reminder to his phone twenty minutes before every plan they made.
Not because Claire demanded it.
May you like
Because apologies without changed behavior were only speeches.
That was when Claire realized she was falling in love.
