Chapter 58

Olivia

“I hope it’s a girl.”

Nathan's puzzled expression lingered for a painstaking few moments, right after I unexpectedly revealed my hopes for the future. I felt my chest surge with fear, as though somehow revealing the fact that I wanted a baby girl would somehow push him further away.

“Huh?” he finally uttered, clearly caught off guard by my candid response.

I took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with unwavering sincerity. “Yesterday, you asked what I was hoping for,” I clarified. “And I'm hoping for a girl, although I'd take either. I just want a healthy and happy child.”

There was a long silence between us. I felt my heart pounding inside of my chest, aching, asking me why I suddenly felt the need to be so candid with Nathan.

Truthfully, however, I didn’t have an answer to that question. Looking at Nathan standing there in front of me, with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up and his forehead coated with a thin layer of sweat, just suddenly made me want to open up.

A hint of a smile tugged at Nathan's lips, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, nodding his head toward one of the sprawling gardens that could be seen through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the hallway. “Let's walk a bit. I need some fresh air.”

Nodding as I realized that I also needed some fresh air, I followed Nathan to a door at the end of the hall that led outside.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, circling the large garden with the fountain in the middle, but it wasn’t as much of an uncomfortable silence as before. Something had changed between us; the annoyance over our most recent disagreements felt almost weightless now.

Maybe it was the dance, or maybe it was my sudden admission.

Finally, we stopped in front of the fountain and looked in.

“There’s no water,” I pointed out.

“They always turn it off in the winter,” Nathan replied. “It’ll be another month or so before they turn it back on.”

There was another long silence as we stared at the dried-up fountain before Nathan suddenly turned to look at me.

“I feel the same way,” he admitted softly. “I've always imagined having a daughter. I know that your kid isn’t mine, but I’d still want to take her to our family cabin someday, show her the wonders of nature, and maybe even steal some sweet honey from the honeycombs, just like we used to do.”

His words struck me with a sudden rush of memories — childhood days spent exploring, laughter echoing through the woods as we ventured to the cabin and indulged in innocent mischief. It was a time when our worries were far simpler, and our bond was unbreakable.

Now, I couldn’t decide if our bond was more fragile or if it was really stronger than ever, and we just didn’t know it yet.

“That’s… really sweet, Nathan,” I muttered, feeling my face turn a deep shade of red as I imagined him playing with my future child.

As I imagined him holding a little girl up on his shoulders, showing her around the forest where we used to play as kids, I imagined something else, too.

I imagined myself there, alongside him, smiling along with him. But not as mere friends; as something more. Deep down, I think I wanted that, although I would never admit it.

The image of him treating my future child as his own seeped into my mind, and I instantly cursed myself inwardly as I tried to dispel it.

Nathan shrugged. “It’s more selfish than anything,” he admitted with a bit of a chuckle. “I miss those days. Life was so much easier, back when we didn’t have any responsibilities other than doing well in school and getting back home in time for dinner.”

We continued walking through the garden, the scent of the fresh air mingling with the weight of unspoken truths hanging between us. As we strolled, I couldn't help but voice the longing that had been haunting me.

“I miss those days, too” I confessed, my voice filled with a tinge of melancholy.

There was a pause as the words that I really wanted to say lingered on my tongue, begging to come out. Finally, I couldn’t contain them anymore. “I missed you, Nathan. So badly.”

Nathan's steps faltered for a moment, his gaze shifting to meet mine. His eyes were slightly wide with surprise, but there was a twinkle of happiness behind them; it was as though he was waiting for me to say those words.

At that moment, I swore that I felt a twinge of my wolf inside of me. It was brief, though, so brief that it could have been nothing at all.

Maybe I was imagining things.

“I felt so alone when you were gone,” he said quietly, obliviously ripping me from my sudden thought. There was a sense of unmistakable vulnerability seeping into his voice. “And when Alvin closed himself off, it was like losing the final part of our trio. I miss our old dynamic, Olivia.”

His words resonated within me, a poignant reminder of the bond we had shared since childhood.

It was a connection that time and distance hadn't eroded entirely, a thread still holding us together amidst the complexities of adulthood.

But he was right; we were still missing a part of our trio. Alvin was sitting alone in his house, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

A spark of determination ignited within me. “Let's go and find Alvin tonight,” I blurted out, the eagerness evident in my voice.

Nathan's face darkened, his eyes clouded with a mixture of worry and caution. He shook his head slowly.

“He's not the same, Olivia,” he murmured, his voice laced with a sense of foreboding as he turned to look away. “It's dangerous.”

“But if both of us went, maybe he’d come around,” I said, feeling hopeful. “Come on, Nathan. You know how much you miss him. You just said so yourself.”

Suddenly, Nathan’s demeanor shifted from open to closed, like a sliding door. “No, Olivia,” he said, his voice stern and low. “It’s too dangerous. Stop bringing it up.”

I felt my chest ache at my friend’s harsh words. I wanted to pry further, to unravel the mysteries that shrouded Alvin's current state.

But before I could inquire further, Nathan took a step toward the banquet hall as the sound of the music died down and was replaced by the sound of silverware being tapped on glass, signifying a toast.

“Come on,” Nathan said, appearing to be almost relieved that this discussion was over. “We have to go inside now. My dad’s supposed to give a speech.”

Reluctantly, I followed my childhood friend back to the banquet hall, the garden's tranquility fading as we reentered the lively atmosphere of the luncheon.

The opportunity to delve into our shared history, to uncover the truth behind Alvin's transformation, slipped through our fingers and became overshadowed by the demands of the event.

Truthfully, though, I wasn’t sure if Nathan would ever be willing to open up about our missing friend, the missing piece to our trio. And I just wished that I could understand why.