Author's Note: Set between Uncharted 2 and Uncharted 3.
CHAPTER 8
ONE MORE JOB
The night was warm and humid, still air felt thick and heavy, it made cotton bathrobe stick to his body as he stood on the balcony of his hotel room overlooking the ocean, its silvery waves rocking back and forth, moonlight dancing on its surface, dark clouds brooding in the distance.
He wondered of what she might be doing right now? Probably sleeping after a long shower like he should be – blood and dirt of their crazy adventure washed off and carried away with the water. Like he should be, except he couldn't.
A knock on the door. His heart dropped in a sudden hope… but it was probably Sully anyway.
Across the dimly lit room, stepping over his clothes that were scattered in various stages of cleanliness, he went to the door and opened it with nervous excitement trembling deep inside.
Behind it was… her. He swallowed a lump in his throat, caught by surprise despite desperately imagining, wishing that it would be.
She, as if, froze as the door flew open, eyes wide, shocked at herself to actually be standing there, in front of his hotel room. Her tan skin was clean and slightly red from sun exposure and excessive scrubbing, fresh scratches and scrapes adorning her face. Blue jean shorts, a white shirt tied in a knot on one side, yellow straps of swimsuit taking his gaze down to the outline of bikini top underneath. He briskly looked away. She noticed and tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose scrunched up slightly, for a short moment, before she smiled nervously as if trying to remember what she wanted to say when she actually sees him.
"Room service?" he outpaced her, leaning leisurely against the doorframe, trying to put a mask over the disheveled feelings her unexpected appearance stirred in him, "I'm low on towels by the way."
"Haha" she rolled her eyes sarcastically, "Maybe some shampoo and conditioner as well?"
"Nah, got those. Could use some lotion though."
"'Sorry, ran out."
"It's so hard to find good service these days…" he sighed.
"Maybe you expect too much. What do they say? The secret to happiness is low expectations?"
"Low expectations don't get you a hoard of Spanish treasure" he countered and she chuckled.
Her eyes looked questionably at the robe he was wearing, lingering for a second on the bare section of his chest covered in growth of dark hair.
"Well, I hope I didn't wake you up." She said when the pause started to get too long.
"No, I was just…about to I guess" he rubbed his neck under her gaze.
"I couldn't sleep, and I thought – what the heck? Maybe you're not sleeping yet either" she said with a half laughter betraying her nerves, "Wanna taka a stroll along the beach?"
"Sure!" He jumped on the offer, baffled at the miraculous materialization of his daydreaming (nightdreaming or whatever) into reality and afraid he could spook it away if he wasn't fast enough.
She waited in the room while he hurriedly changed into swim trunks in the bathroom. Should he put the shirt on? Feeling stupid without it, he slipped into a white V-neck that he thought would match her t-shirt. Already matching his clothes to hers? He scratched his forehead in annoyance at his dashing thoughts and had to remind himself that he is a grown man in his early thirties and this was not his first date.
"Is it a date?" he mumbled quietly. He shook his head and took one deep breath steadying his thoughts, "All right, here we go."
He turned the door knob and walked out of the bathroom.
Sitting on his bed with her back to him, she quickly turned around at the sound of his footsteps, her eyes darted up and down his form before settling on his face.
"Ready?"
"For a nighttime swim? Always ready!" he said overconfidently.
They headed for the door, both barefoot, walking out into the empty hotel corridor.
Elevator beeped notifying of its arrival and the door slid open.
"Ladies first," he extended his arm hoping it looked half as gallant as he imagined it in his head.
"Why thank you" she faked a сurtsy and he followed behind.
Soft music seemed to accentuate the silence between them as they stood side by side, shooting quick glances at each other. Why were they this way? Jokes aside, he felt tension between them that almost crackled in invisible electric sparks that threatened to short-circuit the elevator. Where was that crazy chemistry they've been sharing up until now? The chemistry that was so strong, yet so easy, that he couldn't help but kiss her on the way back to land. Was it all adrenaline-fed?
Another beep of the elevator and they walked out into a spacious lobby and then, through the back doors, into the night. Silently they passed the lit up poolside, down sandy steps and onto a boardwalk leading to the beach. In this late hour there were still people there – couples by the look of it, enjoying each other's company in the romantic setting of the moonlit shore.
They went in the direction of dense mangrove forest on the left, away from the sunbeds, umbrellas and lights and people; Stumbling in the sand they reached the wet line where water met the beach and walking didn't require as much effort, and let the surf wash over their feet as they walked further and further away, gentle breeze carrying salt and spray in its wake. His hand found hers. She didn't take it away. As small as it was, this touch made his heartbeat rush with the waves.
"So," he tried to sound easy and nonchalant, "What did the mime say to his audience?"
She looked up at him with surprise, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight, but played along, "Okaaay. What did the mime say to his audience?"
"Nothing. He held his character because he was a professional!"
She giggled and gave him a lenient side eye.
"That was pretty bad, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it kinda was" she laughed.
As they slowly padded along the water, he noticed he couldn't stop smiling. His smile grew even wider when he noticed she couldn't either.
"Hope it wasn't the image of zombies keeping you up?" he said when the distant voices disappeared behind them, "That's some stuff made for nightmares."
"I'm sure that's still to come. But – no, I don't think that's what it was" she added with more seriousness.
It wasn't that for him either.
They grew quiet again, conversation dying in a flicker, that this time she tried to awake.
"Did you buy return tickets yet?"
"Nah, not yet, you?"
"Me neither."
"Are they expecting you back soon?" he asked, implying her producer and the work crew.
She breathed the air in slowly, clearly dreading the topic, "I am sure they expected me back sooner and are probably wondering where the hell I am. Aaaand my camera." She finished with regret, "I still didn't call them or anything, I just…"
"Dragging it?"
"Yeah…dragging it."
"You know you could make a damn good treasure hunter still? Just saying."
She laughed at that.
"Well, I'm afraid after brushing with death couple hundred times in the last two days and then almost meeting it in a helicopter crash - I'm gonna have to give this a hard pass and take some time for my nervous system to recover. Let typos and deadlines be my worst enemies and leave the shooting kind for you… for the time being." She tilted her head his way and he felt her hair lightly brush against his shoulder.
"That's too bad – we make a great team" the tone of his voice changed slightly and their eyes met.
"We do, don't we?" she said quietly.
"Like peanut butter and jelly."
"Yeah…" came her thoughtful reply and she briskly looked away with expression on her face any poker player would envy, staring ahead as they approached a desolate part of the beach with palm trees and dense thicket of mangroves making it difficult to go any further.
Moonlight covered every surface with candlewax-like film and a lamp post shone some distance away by the curve of an empty road, its electric light reaching through the leaves of tropical greenery behind them. Invisible guitar strings from some restaurant nearby produced soft notes and they floated in the air carried down by the breeze.
Perfect night made to last a life time.
"Well, I think that's as far as I want to go" her voice came in bursts as she pulled her shirt up and threw it on top of a curvy knag of a massive piece of driftwood nearby, her shorts followed and, as she stayed in her bikini, the realization of him frankly watching her strip down, made her look at him with a mixture of embarrassment and expectation.
His eyes shirked to the side as the annoying awkwardness wedged between them yet again. Decisively, he pulled his shirt off and hung it next to her clothes, feeling her gaze burn through the skin of his back, but when he turned around, she was already walking away.
She stepped into the water with no rush – indulgently tracing her fingertips through the water when it reached her thighs and he could hardly look away. Silhouetted by the moon, she looked back at him and smiled with the corner of her lips and a silent invitation in her eyes.
"Are you coming along or are you just gonna stand there staring all night?" she shouted out.
"I wasn't staring! I was just admiring…the water"
"It sure is a nice view" she said as she turned away from him again and walked further, water splashing gently around her.
"Oh yes It is" he said quietly and followed.
The water was pleasantly warm. Calm, if not for the low waves that rippled through before crashing against the shore, pulling sand and shells away, intensifying more and more with each hit.
She stopped when water reached her midsection and he stood next to her. Brooding clouds crept in closer along the horizon, breeze was gaining in strength, yet it was still serene along the shore – bright stars twinkled in the blackness of the sky above them – a short moment of peace before the storm hits. He looked at her and as a burst of lighting split the night over the ocean in the distance, she looked up at him.
"I don't want this to end, Nate," she finally said with undeniable sadness in her eyes.
She didn't have to explain, he knew exactly what she meant.
Slowly, as if in a dream, he turned to her. She froze, watching his every move with both uncertainty and anticipation. Invisible strings between them seemed to get ever so tighter when he overcame the tension and reached his hand to her face. The intimacy of that moment made the tips of his ears burn and his heart skipped a beat. His thumb traced down her cheekbone, caressed the angle of her jaw and she leaned into his touch as if it was all she ever wanted. Encouraged, he allowed his fingers to slide along her neck and fumble for invisible elastic holding her hair together. He imagined doing this ever since they met, wondering how she'd look with her hair loose. Carefully, he wiggled the elastic free and the blond strands flowed down and away, caught by the breeze. It felt as if he peered over a wall, into the more vulnerable part of her that only lucky few were granted a privilege to witness.
A whisper of her fingertips touched his hips, meekly at first, they moved to rest on his sides, exploring the ever stretching extent of their possibilities. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, his skin tingling, as his hand tracked down her bare skin and remained on the curve of her waist and he could wholeheartedly bet his share of the treasure on it, that he felt her quiver like a trapped hummingbird in his grasp.
"Who said it has to end?" he said weakly, his voice low and hoarse.
Her delicate eyebrows furrowed and she looked as if it took everything of her to state the bitter facts out loud, "I have to go home…back to work. And you - off to the next adventure you'll go, Nathan Drake."
He swallowed a lump in his throat, staring into her eyes - wide open and full of unvoiced plead.
"We'll make it work," he promised, and at that moment it seemed so easy and undeniable that he wondered why it was even an issue worth discussing.
Her eyelashes fluttered betraying her excitement, "I guess it doesn't hurt to try," she chuckled nervously, but any hint of laughter vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Her gaze lowered and fixated on his lips, betraying her thoughts.
His lungs struggled for air as her lips parted slightly and he felt drawn to lean down, incapable to resist her spell any longer.
Closer and closer.
Until…
Nate opened his eyes.
Dark ceiling stared back at him. He threw his arm to the side, searching for Elena, but the other side of the bed was cold and empty. He glanced at it, just to make sure, and dropped his head back on the pillow with a frustrated grunt. Snoring that was filling the room, got louder and then paused, as Sully rolled onto the other side on his bed, disturbed by the noise, but soon the loud rumbling resumed.
Kicking sweaty sheets off of him, Nate breathed in deeply and tried to calm down his racing heart.
She was far away. Yet so close, that he could almost hear the scent of her hair. The dream was so intense and so true down to every detail. Of course he remembered that night. It happened right after they came back to land after finding "El Dorado" or rather the cursed statue it turned out to be. He remembered well what happened after and wished he didn't wake up so prematurely.
They seemed to stay there, in the water, for what seemed like both forever and not nearly long enough. Then the storm caught up with them and they had to retreat back to the hotel. Soaked through in ocean and rain, they got to his room and… as the door flew shut behind them, they didn't make it far past the entryway.
His thumb felt for the bare part of his finger, where the ring used to be and he closed his eyes in defeat as his mind plunged deeper and deeper into the bittersweet memories.
After that, where there used to be minutes and hours, were only nights and days – sunlight and moonlight. Tension was gone, and so was the awkwardness. A strong connection remained - it lied in the sweet spot where soul meets body and he never felt that way before. He hoped that neither did she.
"And there we are – four years later, married and estranged" he said quietly to himself.
Nate closed his eyes and, for a while, tossing and turning from one side to another, tried to summon the dream back. But it wouldn't come.
Then he tried to not think about anything at all, expecting for sleep to come back and cover him in a heavy cloak of oblivion again. To not think about anything, not to think about anything…
…yet thinking endlessly on.
He sighed and opened his eyes.
It's been so long since he dreamed of anything you could call erotic, and so long since he did anything remotely erotic either, long showers aside. How long has it really been? A year? Has it really been that long ever since he left her? No, not left. He couldn't possibly leave her. No – since their marriage started resembling a dandelion – one careful blow and it would fall apart - and he thought it best if they both took a break and calmed down. So he went on a job. And when it was done it felt easier to go on another one, rather than come back to their love nest and risk facing another explosive argument… And after that, another possibly profitable job conveniently presented itself, so he took it too. And so it went on, until…Until it was so long that coming back felt like it was no longer an option. And then he got a text from her saying that if he needed that long of a break from her, then he shouldn't bother coming back at all.
And then there was silence.
Silence, that was infrequently broken by indifferent emails about bills and routine dynamics of sharing the same living space neither of them now occupied. He kept paying rent and she kept paying utilities and he was just glad that she didn't bring up divorce yet. He was willing to keep it at that. He'll fix it. Somehow. Someday. As long as they were still married he felt he still had a chance.
Their first anniversary came and went and neither of them made a step. He wanted to call her, he really did, but the fear of a very possible rejection made him stop a split-second before hitting the call button. He was afraid to do anything. Silence was safer.
Now he was in London on yet another - most likely dangerous - job and she was in Yemen. She graciously let him know she took a new position overseas. Just so you know where I am in case of emergency, she told him in a text. She was a foreign correspondent now – dignified and away from danger kind, the one you see on the world news tonight. Maybe she always was too good for him after all.
The shades of grey on the ceiling turned lighter as the sun climbed up in the sky and colors of dawn streamed through the window of his and Sully's shared hotel room. Nate lay awake, unable to run away from his thoughts - sleep never did come back.
"Ain't no rest for the wicked" he muttered, getting out of bed and quietly making his way to the bathroom. The shower knob turned with a squeak and he got in trying to shake the images of the dream out of his head. There was work to be done today and he had to wake up.
Later that day Nate was sitting at the bar counter in one of London's many pubs in the company of Sully, Cutter and Chloe. He nibbled on fish and chips, washing them down with an ice cold Guinness. It was late afternoon, sun already disappeared in the West and the evening was foggy and rainy. Mist crept into buildings from the Thames and sank in every corner, not such a far cry from the Victorian times of Jack the Ripper - the surroundings may have changed, yet the setting stayed the same.
It was another day of preparations before their meeting with Marlowe's errand boy, Talbot, and today he felt that they were pretty much ready.
"…and then she says to a dentist – I'd rather go through the pain of childbirth again than let you drill into my teeth. And the dentist says - Well, lady, please make up your mind so I can adjust my chair," Sully finished another one of his anecdotes.
Nate and Charlie laughed out loud trying to contain the beer from splashing through, while Chloe shook her head with a smirk.
"Oh Victor, Victor" she clicked her tongue.
"C'mon darling, you gotta admit it was pretty damn funny," Sully raised his beer at her with a tilt of his head.
"Could be worse, I suppose."
"Anyhow" Charlie changed the topic and pointed at the leftovers on Chloe's plate, "Thought you were goin' to order that same taco on the floor you liked so much yesterday, or whatever it's called."
"Taco on the floor?" Nate furrowed his brows with a grin.
"I think Charlie here means eggroll in a bowl" Chloe said sarcastically.
"Yeah, what she said" Cutter confirmed with a shrug.
"Well, I just thought I…"
The rest of the conversation went right around his ears, when Nate spotted familiar shade of blond in the crowd and the thoughts he kept locked up in the back closet of his mind all day started creeping through the cracked door. Somewhere between hope and trepidation, he looked closer trying to see over the heads of people and not lose the sight he just caught. Same height too. Could it be…?
The owner of dirty blond locks turned around and he slinked right back down on his seat in disappointment – it was not. And why would she even wear her hair loose when she always complained of it getting in her face on the rare occasions she tried to.
"What's the matter, love?"
Chloe watched him quietly from her barstool to his left, while Sully and Charlie discussed something loudly on the right.
"Nothing, just thought I saw someone."
"Elena?" she hit the bulls eye and he winced internally at her name spoken out loud.
"I think that train has passed the station long time ago." He said gravely and took another swig of beer.
Chloe looked at him incredulously.
"Well, if you are so sure about it, then go buy that blond a drink - she's been eying you ever since she came in and, what it looks like, I am the only thing stopping her from coming over here," she said with a sly glimmer in her eyes, "She looks like your type anyway," she finished tauntingly and sat back to watch his reaction at her leisure.
"Not interested."
"You have to get under someone to get over someone," Chloe prodded him.
"Look," Nate spoke louder than intended, "Don't you think I wouldn't if I wanted to? I mean, you are right here and we hit it off pretty well before, but I don't seem to be trying to get into your panties, so I'm probably not interested in that blond or whoever else in here."
Chloe raised her hands protectively in front of her and smirked.
"For the record, Nate, it is I who would be the one not interested in that- thank you very much. I was down that road before and not going to be your little side piece of solace in between Elena. Next thing you know you two make up and I respect Elena and myself too much to be caught in the middle of your love games again."
"Fair enough" Nate said after listening through her passionate tirade, "Then stop pushing me into some hasty one-night-stand situation here."
"All I'm saying is – if things were really that bad, you wouldn't be sitting here sighing over her. And she probably feels the same way too. Like- how long has it been? At this point, I bet she misses you way too much to still be angry at whatever you did or didn't do."
Nate breathed in deeply through his nose, annoyed they were still talking about this and Chloe rolled her eyes.
"Nate," she said firmly.
"What?" he snarled.
"Just call her. It's that simple."
"Ok… Chloe, I appreciate the concern, but can we just drop it already?!"
Chloe measured him with a disapproving look before she got up from her stool and, clutching the backpack that had been hanging on the hook under the bar counter, looked at the other two men.
"I'm calling it a night, gentlemen." she said stretching her arms and throwing the backpack behind her shoulder.
"Yeah, I think that's enough drink for me as well, mate," Charlie said hurriedly and plopped a bill on the counter.
Sully got up from his stool with a grunt and looked at Nate, "You coming, kid?"
"I think I'm due for another beer" Nate answered, still trying to regain composure, and Sully patted him on the back.
"Don't stay too long, will ya?" Sully said kindheartedly, slipping his arms into a jacket.
"You got it."
They headed down the two steps for the door and out into the busy street to their hotel nearby, while Chloe lingered behind.
"Nate, think about what I said" she threw one last shrewd look in his direction before leaving, "Stop being miserable and call your wife."
As the door closed behind her, Nate turned back around and motioned the bar tender to get another beer. The echo of Chloe's words resonated against his own thoughts as he sat there, staring into the contrasting grains of the butcher block bar counter, enjoying the malty flavor of his drink and contemplating her advice. Music blasted from the speakers of the establishment and he mindlessly nodded to the beat half listening to the words of the song.
I lost my heart…I lose my miiiind…without youuu…withoooout you
The male voice sang in between the bouts of rhythmic club music and Nate set the bottle down with a loud tap.
"You gotta be kidding me!" he grumbled to himself.
Irritated, he took the wallet out of the pocket of his jeans, fished a bill out and placed it on the counter, ready to leave.
Before he could stand up, someone nimbly landed on the stool next to his and a long slender leg blocked his leave.
"Not leaving already, are you?"
Nate raised his eyes and saw it was the same blond he noticed earlier. On closer inspection, her hair color and height turned out to be the only similarities she shared with his estranged wife. Well, maybe the age too - mid to late twenties or so it looked. Her face was alabaster pale, immaculate makeup accentuated it in just the right places – full burgundy red lips, dark brown eyes traced with knowing strokes of liner forming a delicate wing, shadows along the cheekbones sharpened her expression. She was wearing snuggly fitting jeans and plunging black top that showed off tightly pushed up cleavage. Nate's eyes briskly shirked away.
"I was just about to, actually, yes" Nate said putting his wallet back into his pocket and the red lips pouted.
"That is a shame, I so wanted to buy you a drink," the girl said and he noticed a slight nasal accent in her voice. French.
"I'm afraid I've reached my quota of drinks for tonight" he smiled politely and tried to leave through the escape route on his left instead.
Small pale hand with tasteful red manicure nonchalantly landed on top of his.
"I promise it will be worth your while."
He thought the young lady must have had one too many drinks and he looked down at her well-meaningly before he softly slipped his hand from under hers.
"Look, I'm flattered, but I am married and not interested in acquiring new acquaintances."
"Well, it seems like we already have something in common then," she smiled and her pearly white teeth, with canines slightly pointier than normal, flashed in the overhanging pendant lights of the bar. She produced a white gold ring out of the pocket of her jeans and demonstratively held it up in front of him, "Humor me, keep the poor girl a company for an hour, hmm? I'm Elise by the way," she hid the ring in the zipper pocket of her handbag and stretched her hand out to him for a handshake, "It's a breath of fresh air to meet a fellow American."
He looked at her for a while with hesitation, but felt bad to keep her hanging and gently shook her hand.
"Nathan."
"So, Nathan, no strings attached, just two countrymen in a foreign land sharing a heart to heart conversation in a bar? Never to see each other again. How does that scenario sound?" Elise murmured sensing his hesitancy and her lips curved in another charming smile.
Nate held her gaze, comparing options in his head – it's just a conversation, nothing obligating, so what if the company is so pleasantly pretty? What was he going to do in his hotel room - click through boring TV channels and listen to Sully complain about coffee maker not working properly again?
He came to a decision and sat back down on his stool.
"Ok. I'll bite"
Victory flared up in the woman's brown eyes making her look like a cat that just ate a mouse. Or was about to anyway.
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed.
Elise rushed to call the bartender over and ordered herself a Cosmopolitan.
"I owe you a drink then. What would you like?"
"Well, I already had two beers, let's do a whiskey this time then. Party all the way."
"Whiskey it is," she nodded to the bar tender.
For a while their conversation hovered over general topics, but the more they talked and as the level of drinks in their glasses grew lower, it turned into a more philosophical direction until it tiptoed on the border of personal as speaking to one another became easier.
"So, Elise, what are you doing here in a foreign country without a ring on your finger?" Nate looked at the girl lightheartedly.
"Well," Elise purred, thoughtfully rubbing her chin with a long slender finger, "Today I found out that my husband of six years has been cheating on me with the Vice President of his company. For the last two years."
"Damn. Here I thought my marriage had a problem. What an asshole."
Elise chuckled darkly, "You could say that again. So then I thought- hey- I'm going to go the nearest bar and pay him back by sleeping with the first handsome guy I see," her eyes squinted and looked squarely at Nate, "And here you were, Nate…"
"And here I was."
"Would you blame me for that?"
"Nope, I don't guess I would."
"What would you do?
"Sheesh!" Nate held his chin between his forefinger and thumb and momentarily looked in the distance thinking, "You know, I don't even want to imagine myself in that situation" he said slowly and glancing at Elise added, "No offense,"
Elise brushed it off with a graceful tilt of her shoulder, "None taken," she said and absentmindedly played with the thin leg of the cocktail glass on the counter.
"And how about you?" she glanced at the line on his ring finger where wedding band used to be. Nate noted that the previously pale line was now barely visible as it almost blended with the tan skin.
"Well it's…"
"…complicated," Elise finished for him.
"Yeah, it is."
"It always is, isn't it?"
Nate gave a vague grunt.
"Well, one thing for sure – I don't have a motive as strong as yours to be sitting here without a ring on my finger," he finally said. The fact that they were two perfect strangers, never to see each other again, gave the illusion of freedom to speak candidly and without caution, "Actually, I didn't mean to keep it off. I was just mad and kind of reckless. Got drunk and the next morning couldn't find where it was. Guess I just lost it," he finished and the girl's eyes flew wide open in curiosity.
"What made you so mad?" she leaned forward hanging on his every word.
"A breakup text." He said shortly and finished the remains of his whiskey.
He looked at the clock on the wall – it was late. With the poor sleep of the previous night and the lazy haze of alcohol covering a veil over his mind, Nate felt it was time to wrap it up. One way or another. Chloe's words came to mind – you need to get under someone to get over someone. Maybe there was some truth in them after all. Memory of the night when he got that text from Elena stirred half buried feelings of grief and resentment.
Elise sensed the change in him and he felt her hand land on his thigh. When she spoke her voice was quiet and conspiratorial as if they were two kids planning a scheme against adults.
"Nate," she whispered with urgency in her big eyes and her fingers gently tightened on his jeans, "Let's go to my hotel room. My husband is in Scotland trying to land a big business deal with some Adler guy, he won't be back until tomorrow night. No one has to know. It's just going to be our little secret. Just you and I – two hurt souls trying to get some comfort. Let's help each other out."
Vaguely noting the mention of Rafe with weak interest, Nate watched as a long strand of dirty blond hair slipped from behind her shoulder and hung trifling inches away from her ample cleavage. He blinked, staring, before he closed his eyes and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. Contradicting thoughts flooded his struggling head. Elena was far away – probably still pissed beyond her mind at him - she explicitly stated they were done. Legal technicalities and whispery promise of their vows were the only things still holding their marriage together. Maybe it was just the legalities after all. Then there is Elise right here and right now - practically jumping on him – and the hungry primal part of him prodded, pleaded to see her naked.
The thought was lighting fast and sharp edged:
Was there anything, really, that kept his hands tied?
Elise arched her brow in silent provocation and his jaw tightened.
Nate wanted to, in fact, he was just about to offer Elise his hand and follow her down the dark London alleys to wherever and whatever she'd lead him to. To take as much as he could, even too much, anything to easy the choking feelings of grief and anger off of her and her breakup words.
He wanted to.
But then the image of Elena appeared in his head – the coy twinkle in her understanding eyes, the way she smiled at him like she didn't smile at anybody else. Elena. Home. His home. What was he doing?
Hey, cowboy, her soothing voice whispered in his ear. It cut out all the surrounding noise and something broke inside of him.
Nate shook his head. He may not be wearing a wedding band, and yet she still owned him.
And he couldn't do it.
He decided this was as close of a brush with infidelity as he was ever willing to experience again.
"As tempting as the offer is," Nate started, but he could already see the disappointment in the deep brown eyes before he even opened his mouth, "…I just can't. I'm sorry, Elise, you simply laid your eyes on the wrong guy tonight."
"I see," Elise kicked back on her stool, her hand slipped off his leg and she tucked the strands of blond hair behind her ears. A side glance flashed from under her long eyelashes, "Guess you're one of the good guys then. Gives me hope."
"I don't know about that, but… I don't want to repeat your husband's mistake, if that's what you mean."
"She is one lucky girl…your wife" she added.
"I bet she'd argue with you on that," he chuckled and pulled his brown leather jacket off the back of his bar stool, "It was a pleasure talking to you," he offered her a hand for a friendly handshake and Elise lightly squeezed it.
"Could be a lot more pleasure – it's your loss, Nate. Just saying."
"I know. I'm sure," Nate smirked and headed down the steps to the exit. He turned back momentarily, "Good luck with the payback!" he winked and Elise raised a cocktail glass giving him a small nod.
"Good luck with your wife."
He expected her to start looking around the bar for the next victim, but, instead, with a tired expression on her pretty face, she turned around and hunched over the counter propping her head up on her arm.
As Nate walked out of the bar, he sincerely wished her all the best.
The street was busy, full of traffic and people despite the late hour of the night – one of the many arteries of London that never stopped pulsing. Nate crossed the road and headed for the hotel they were staying at, picking up his steps as he felt raindrops start to drip down from the heavy skies, but the burning determination was what really spurred him on. Through revolving doors he walked into the lobby, which was otherwise empty, if not for the front desk lady and the porter, who greeted Nate with a smile and a nod.
He was about to take the elevator up to his room, but changed his mind and abruptly swerved into the direction of the sitting area next to the hotel's breakfast kitchen. He needed some alone time, afraid that the suddenly flared up courage would wither as soon as he talked to somebody, even if it was Sully.
Nate sat down on one of the many plush chairs and opened his phone. He scrolled to find Elena's name in the contact list. His finger hovered over the Call button and he stared for a long moment first at the button and then at Elena's picture over her phone number line. He tapped his foot on the colorful rug on the floor and his eyes fixated on observing its abstract patterns.
What will he say?
What will she say?
Nate scratched the bridge of his nose and made a muffled groan.
"A text. I'll just send her a text." He muttered in the end.
After all, she broke up with him over a text, so it was only fair that he makes the first step to their reconciliation in the same way. Plus, what time is it in Yemen? Three a.m.? She probably has a busy work day ahead of her and he didn't want to mess up with her sleep. This way she can read the text in the morning, when she is well rested. Yes, a text is certainly better.
A vertical line flickered in the text bar and, still, he stared at it, struggling to come up with words that wouldn't seem pathetic – words that would make up for months of silence and for- as hard as he tried to avoid the fact – for months of abandonment.
I miss you.
"She'll shove your "miss yous" up your ass, idiot" Nate shook his head and pressed a button repeatedly erasing the words.
I can't stop thinking about you. Let's give it another go?
Nope.
I messed up.
She already knows that, Captain Obvious.
I love you. Please forgive me.
Nate hunched over the phone with elbows on his knees. It wasn't bad. And it was sincere. Hopefully she feels it too. Yet…
…was it enough? Would it ever be enough again?
Nate couldn't say. In frustration at his own indecisiveness, he kicked back in the chair and closed his eyes. What good is groveling and begging for forgiveness when he couldn't just drop everything and go see her to prove his sincerity? When he is knee-deep in another scheme and has to meet Talbot tomorrow night for the business dealing that he and Sully were able to convincingly sell to Marlowe in an attempt to figure out how far she's got in her decades-worth of research. And then - who the heck knows what that would lead them too? More travel, more digging and more time away? That would just prove Elena's point of him not being able to provide the level of security that a marriage needs. The level of security she always longed for.
Biting his lip and gravely nodding along to his thoughts, Nate slowly flipped his phone closed.
He will fix it. But not tonight.
He has to finish this job first.
Author's Note: In case anyone wonders, the song that played at the bar is David Guetta ft. Usher - Without You. Happened to catch my attention when I was driving home from work, thinking about plot for the chapter.
