My ticket home was a burgeoning headache. Although Kathie took dozens of convincing to stay with Margaret and endless reassurance that I won't end up lost in the streets, I was successful in the end. One obstacle crossed out. I was faced with another when I called my dad for a ride home. He suggested Nathan comes instead while they watch Ethan. I tried to decline. He insisted. I am unsuccessful this time.

Which is why when I saw his car pulling into a stop at the parking lot of the museum, I wasn't pleasantly relieved. I gathered the skirt of my dress and shivered as the wind gusts by, hostile and crisp. Dark clouds gather overhead, threatening a rainstorm. I've felt a slight warning of drizzle as I unceremoniously darted around the passenger side before the engine could go into a full-stop.

Nathan struck me a confused look. "You're excited to go home."

Desperate to be alone.

"How was it?" He turned the ignition back on.

The question retraced the source that laid the concrete perching heavily on my shoulders: Sydney and her plastic little smile.

"Chassie?"

"It was fine." I looked out the window and watched the raindrops pelting down in furious scrapes.

His hand covered mine on my lap. "You okay?"

I keep my eyes on the window. I nod. "Just a headache. Too much champagne."

"Okay. Can you tell me that again but with your eyes on my face?"

"Really, I'm fine," I answered, my eyes refusing to oblige.

The rain poured.

He took his hand off mine, putting it back on the stirring wheel. And then I was cold. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why Sydney knew about the hell he went through shouldering all responsibilities for Starlet and that I don't.

A new flash of juvenile indignation slices through my guts. "I ran into Sydney," I managed to say.

"Oh?"

"Yes." I gulp down the glum in my throat. Aside from the unwarranted anger, there's also hurt I keep restrained. I turn to face him. "She told me about Starlet."

Nathan glances briefly toward me, then shifted it back to the windshield where wipers thud back and forth. "About Starlet?"

"Yes."

His knuckles turned white on the stirring wheel before speaking again. "Chassie, it's—"

"No, it's fine." I struggled to grasp for rationality. For the mature side of me to take the matters in her hands in the most sensible way.

"Chassie, listen it's—"

"Nathaniel, I said it's fine!" I snapped, all rationality aside.

"No, it's not. You're obviously upset."

I let out a harsh laugh. "No! I'm just hurt. It's fine."

"Chassie, just—"

I spread my arms to my sides in exasperation. "Just, please. I'm trying to be a grownup about all this. I have been trying to grow up all these years just like you said."

Nathan flinched, his knuckles turn even whiter on the wheel. He says nothing, but the gesture was a telling one.

He knew exactly when he'd said it.

Knew exactly what made him say it.

The car went dead silent. The wind rattled against the window, the wipers now waving crazily on the windshield as if matching the escalating tension between us.

Outside there was a rumble of thunder and resounding sizzles of violent raindrops on the pavements. Inside there were only held back breathings.

The skies have so much rain to pour. I have a heart threatening to come apart all over again. Even when it's no longer entitled to.

Lightning streaks across the sky, taking me back in the nastiest of times, to the parking lot of our old apartment building. The sound of car doors slamming shut. Stabs of footsteps on the concrete. Words I yelled. And words he yelled back.

And the ring I threw at him.

I look over to Nathan, his expression stoic. His jaw clenched.

He's reliving that night with me.

We said nothing on the rest of the way home. The past hangs over our heads like a ticking time bomb. It ticked louder as the car crawls to the driveway of my parents' house. The rain grew into a storm outside.

We were stranded in the car.

And the past.

He turns off the ignition, his hands let go of the stirring wheel, ghastly without blood circulation. He pinned me in his gaze. He swallows, his expression confrontational.

I look straight back. My chest is filled with too much pang it has no room for hesitation and fear.

Something flickered past his baby blue eyes. Something that was gone too fast before I could name it. There was warning on his face. A warning that we're entering a territory we both shunned for so long, because it was a walk path of lava down memory lane.

"You know I didn't mean it." His voice came out uncharacteristically raw.

I shake my head. "You know you do."

He wiped his eyes tiredly. "I know I don't."

"I know you do. I was all over the place on my internships. I couldn't finish one and I complained about it that entire year of our marriage. You wanted someone who had carefully laid out blueprints on the table like Sydney."

His gaze sharpened. "I didn't give a damn about anyone else. Chassie, I married you. You may have regrets about it, but I don't. Not even a lick."

"You have regrets, Nathan," I pressed on, "You grabbed the first opportunity out of our marriage."

His stiff hand raked over his hair. "You threw your ring at me, Chassie. It wasn't an opportunity. And just so you know, like a goddamn fool I still hoped you won't sign the papers when we found out we're having a baby."

My heart twisted. "I didn't want to trouble you any longer by asking for the divorce then taking it all back at the last minute. I didn't want another round of you saying, "Grow up, Chassie George!""

His palm swiped over his face. "I only said it because you hurt me when you yelled to me I was too suffocating when I'm only trying to support you."

It was my turn for the defensive card. "You signed the papers the moment it was handed to you."

"Christ, Chassie. I signed because I was terrified you'd hate me forever if I didn't!" His words rang inside the car. Then rang longer when I couldn't find mine.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice small.

He pulls out a sigh. "You said you'd rather be miserable somewhere else."

My breath hitches, surprised that even my own words stung my ears. The worst part is I don't even remember saying it. That it might have been just the anger that rendered me blind to logical reasons.

We've never really dealt with what happened that night. We never talked about it. I stayed with Kathie while we we're working through the divorce. We never talked. The only time we ever started talking again was when I found out I was pregnant.

We buried it all.

I clasped a hand to my forehead, trying to steady my spinning thoughts that's throwing my emotions out of balance. Normally, it would've been easy to press down the good memories back to their closet. But they're all just scattered around me along with the skeletons I stashed away.

And the reason why they shouldn't be completely out in the open is that good memories transition smoothly to my what-ifs and if-onlys.

Including the best things that I didn't just let slip through my fingers; I thoughtlessly dumped them all. Insistent pricking on my eyes started to make them blurry. I have the strongest need for air.

I punch the car door open, stumbling out of the car as I'm met by an unwelcome rainstorm. Nathan called my name, but I ignored him. I run the short trip to the porch, ending up soak and freezing.

I started pacing. The thunder and glaring lightning hadn't snapped me out of the unprecedented tumble down my Niagara Falls of regrets.