No Attachments - By Tiffany King Page 0,54

without his meddling. I told him he was suffocating me, and I could no longer live in the same town with him. I knew my words would hurt him, but that was my intent. I wanted him to hate me, to think I was ungrateful so he could move on. Hate was easier to overcome than grief.

I shivered slightly in my bed, probably from a fever, but also from the memories. I missed my father. I missed his words of wisdom, his goofy laugh and the way he loved to drag me to see old sci-fi movies. He was serious at times and needy other times, but terrific the rest of the time. It broke my heart that I would never see him again.

I was still lying in bed when Nathan arrived a half an hour later with pizza and a bottle of wine in hand.

"You're sick," he said, taking one look at me as I pulled the front door open to let him in.

"Probably from the outside shower we took last night," I joked.

"Crap. I'm sorry, honey," he said, setting the pizza and wine on my coffee table.

"I'm just sorry I'm messing up our date. We don't seem to have the best of luck with our dates. Between me passing out, your allergic reaction, a canoe ride in driving rain and now my annoying cold, I'm beginning to think someone is trying to tell us something," I contemplated, sitting on my couch.

"They're just trying to test our resilience," he said, tucking a quilt around me from the rack that hung on the wall.

I snorted. "I don't know. I think maybe we're a part of some cosmic joke. Someone is getting a laugh at our expense."

He threw his head back and laughed at my words.

"What?" I asked.

"I kid you not. I had the same fucking thought last night when the sky opened up on us. I don't care though. The cosmic gods can throw as many curve balls as they want at us."

"You're awfully cocky tempting fate like that," I said, trying to keep my voice light, even though the idea scared the shit out of me. I knew the ultimate move fate could use and the outcome would change us both forever.

"I just believe in making my own fate. Life may be a greedy bastard at times, but I'm confident I can handle whatever is thrown my way," he said, grabbing plates and wineglasses from the lone cabinet in my kitchen.

"I didn't have you tagged as an optimist. I would have pegged you for a pessimist for sure," I said.

"Shit, I'm one hundred percent pessimist, but that doesn't mean I don't believe I make my own fate. Let me guess, you're one hundred percent optimistic," he commented, handing me a piece of pizza.

"I used to be. I'm not all that sure I am anymore," I mused, nibbling at my pizza, although I wasn't all that hungry. "I've changed a lot lately. I guess you could call it growing up. Maybe I'm becoming boring and dull in my old age."

"Interesting," he pondered, taking a big bite from his own pizza. "Boring? You're far from boring. You may be stoic, but there's nothing dull about you."

"In what way?" I asked, unnerved that he considered me stoic. To the best of my knowledge, stoic meant someone who endures without complaint. It bothered me a little that he saw me that way despite the lies I had fed him. "Stoic" wouldn't be the word I would use to describe myself. "Liar" was more accurate, but of course, he wouldn't know that about me. I'd always been a truthful person. Really, all the half-truths and lies had turned me into someone I hardly recognized anymore. I'd convinced myself that was my intention all along. After living so long under a microscope with everyone knowing my every secret, the lies I told now were intended to shield me.

"Maybe it's because you're always so upbeat, although every once in a while you get this little hint of sadness in your eyes. Sometimes, it's like you're hiding something or a part of yourself. You quickly distill it, but I've seen it," he answered, grabbing another slice of pizza.

I waited him for him to go for broke and ask what I was hiding. His intuitiveness was dead on, and I couldn't help wondering if it was the reporter in him or just a gift he had. I prepared myself mentally for how I would handle this question, knowing