Cousins Confessions

Chapter 4

The days after that movie night passed in a haze of confusion and emotions I couldn’t quite name. Every time I thought of Nate—his smile, the way his shoulder brushed against mine, the quiet intensity in his eyes—I felt a flutter of excitement. But right on its heels came the guilt.

He’s married. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him like this.

But the guilt didn’t erase the longing, and the longing didn’t make the guilt any easier to bear.

I tried to distract myself with work, with friends, with anything that could keep my mind occupied, but Nate was always there, hovering in the corners of my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake. I hated myself for it.

What’s wrong with you? I berated myself one morning as I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my hair with more force than necessary. He made his choice. He’s someone else’s husband now. You have no right to feel this way.

But logic was no match for the way my heart leapt every time my phone buzzed with a message from him.

One such message came late one evening as I was curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through social media.

“Hey, how’s your night going?”

My heart raced as I read his words. Don’t reply, I told myself. You’ll only make this worse. But my fingers moved of their own accord.

“Not bad. Just watching some mindless TV. You?”

His response was immediate. “Same. Well, kind of. Mostly just thinking.”

I hesitated before typing back. “Thinking about what?”

There was a long pause, and I imagined him staring at his screen, debating whether to answer.

“About the other night. About us.”

My breath caught. Us. There’s no ‘us.’

“Nate…” I began, but I didn’t know how to finish.

“I know,” he replied, as if he could read my mind. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

But he wasn’t sorry. I could feel it in the weight of his words, in the way they lingered in the air between us.

The next morning, I woke up feeling worse than ever. The memory of our conversation played on a loop in my mind, and the guilt was like a heavy stone in my chest.

I needed to talk to someone. Someone who would understand.

Mary was sitting at her usual spot in the café, sipping on her latte and scrolling through her phone. When I slid into the seat across from her, she looked up with a smile.

“Well, don’t you look like someone who’s been overthinking.”

I didn’t bother with small talk. “Mary, I think I’m in trouble.”

Her brow furrowed as she set her phone down. “What kind of trouble?”

I hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “It’s Nate,” I admitted.

Mary’s eyes widened. “Nate? What about him?”

I took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “We’ve been talking. A lot. And it feels… it feels like there’s something there. Like there’s still something between us.”

Her expression softened, and she reached across the table to grab my hand. “Becca, are you sure you’re not just stuck in the past? It’s easy to romanticize old feelings, especially when things feel unresolved.”

“I’ve thought about that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels real. And that’s the problem.”

Mary leaned back, her gaze thoughtful. “You know I love you, right? And I’m always going to support you. But you have to ask yourself if this is worth the risk. He’s married, Becca. That’s a line you can’t cross without consequences.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut because they echoed the thoughts I’d been trying so hard to suppress.

That night, I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as Mary’s words replayed in my mind.

Is it worth the risk?

The answer should have been obvious. Of course, it wasn’t worth it. No matter how strong my feelings for Nate were, they didn’t justify the potential fallout.

But then I thought about the way he looked at me, the way he made me feel seen and understood in a way no one else ever had.

What if this is my chance at something real?

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Two days later, Nate showed up at my door unannounced.

“Nate,” I said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

I stepped aside to let him in, my heart pounding in my chest. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

“There is no ‘us,’ Nate,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration etched on his face. “Don’t lie to me, Rebecca. I know you feel it too. Don’t tell me you don’t.”

His words cut through my defenses, leaving me raw and vulnerable. “It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I said, my voice trembling. “You’re married.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “I know. And I hate myself for putting you in this position. But I can’t help how I feel.”

Tears pricked at my eyes as I turned away from him. “This isn’t fair, Nate. To me, to your wife, to anyone.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I had to tell you the truth.”

When he left, I felt more confused than ever. His words lingered in the air like a bittersweet melody, haunting me with the possibilities of what could be—and the consequences of what never should.

As I sat on the couch, staring at the door he had just walked through, I knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t over.