Did You Have Doubts?

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

I looked at the belt hidden behind him. The design was uneven, but I had made every mark while thinking about his face. I had met his mother, his father, and the version of him that existed before me. Instead of feeling trapped by those discoveries, I felt more certain.

“I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like,” I admitted. “I know I look for you when I enter a room. I know I want to tell you everything. I know I’m afraid of losing something that has barely begun.”

“That sounds like an answer.”

“It sounds like doubt.”

He leaned against the worktable. “Did you have doubts before you came here?”

“About your family?”

“About me.”

I thought of the first night in Senior House, his open door, and the way he had looked at me without pretending not to notice me. “I had doubts about whether you would still want me when you discovered I’m not as confident as I act.”

“I discovered that on the first day.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

I stepped closer. “Yes, I had doubts. I still do. But doubts are not the same as wanting to leave.”

He took my hands. “Good.”

“Why?”

“Because I have doubts, too.”

“You do?”

“I’m afraid I’ll want more than you can give me. I’m afraid you’ll choose music and I’ll make you feel guilty for it. I’m afraid I’ll become one more thing you have to manage.”

His honesty made my chest ache.

“You don’t make me feel guilty,” I said. “You make me feel seen.”

“That can be dangerous.”

“Only if we use it badly.”

He kissed my forehead. We stood there until Marian called from the hallway.

“If you two are finished hiding, dinner is ready!”

Nolan called back that we were coming. Then he whispered, “She knows everything.”

“She likes me.”

“She likes you more than me.”

“As she should.”

At dinner, Charles asked me about my cello audition. I told him I was nervous about the conservatory panel.

“Nerves mean you care,” he said. “Use them.”

Regina asked whether I planned to stay in New York after graduation. I explained that I did not know. Nolan reached under the table and squeezed my knee, a quiet reminder that I did not need to make every decision that night.

Marian served dessert and announced that we were going shopping the next morning for a buckle for Nolan’s belt. Nolan looked at me with exaggerated suspicion.

“What belt?”

“The one you’ll receive tomorrow,” I said.

“That is not a normal answer.”

“You don’t know my family’s customs.”

He laughed, and the conversation moved on.

After dinner, we walked through the backyard. Christmas lights hung from the bare branches, and the pool reflected a broken copy of the moon.

“Do you ever miss California?” I asked.

“Sometimes. Mostly I miss knowing where everything is.”

“New York still feels like a maze to me.”

“You’re the one who brought me to the blood center.”

“I’m an excellent guide.”

“You made me faint.”

“You fainted because you were dramatic.”

He stopped beside the pool. “Did you have doubts about bringing me home?”

I understood what he meant now. He was not asking about the trip. He was asking whether I could imagine him inside the parts of my life I kept guarded.

“Yes,” I said. “I thought your family might see me as temporary.”

“They don’t.”

“Your father barely spoke to me.”

“That means he likes you. If he disliked you, he would give a speech.”

I smiled. “And your stepmother?”

“She has already decided we’ll name our first child after her.”

“We are not naming a child Regina.”

“I agree.”

He drew me against his chest. The conversation was becoming too easy, which made me want to protect it.

“Nolan,” I said, “I don’t want to promise something I can’t keep.”

“Then don’t promise forever.”

“What do you want?”

“Tomorrow. And the day after that, if we still want it.”

I looked up at him. “That sounds manageable.”

“I’m a practical man.”

“You own a motorcycle and three cameras.”

“Practical in matters of the heart.”

We kissed beneath the Christmas lights. It was not dramatic. No one saw us, no music swelled, and the world did not change on command. Still, when he held me, I felt the shape of a future I had been afraid to imagine.

The next afternoon, we drove to a thrift store for a buckle. I chose a plain brass one, while Nolan argued for a silver skull until Marian threatened to leave him in the parking lot. Back at the house, I gave him the finished belt.

He turned it over slowly.

“Eyes,” he said.

“You noticed.”

“I notice everything about you.”

He put it on and adjusted the buckle. Marian applauded from the doorway.

“Now he can’t pretend he doesn’t know where you’re looking.”

“She’s very proud of herself,” Nolan said.

“I am.”

When we returned to New York, our routine became ordinary in the best possible way. We studied, rehearsed, cooked cheap meals, and argued about music. On nights when Nolan worked late, I practiced in the dorm while he listened through the wall.

A month later, he took me to Arlene’s Grocery. Jeff Buckley played a short set, and Nolan watched my face instead of the stage.

“You’re missing the concert,” I whispered.

“I’ve seen you hear music before. It’s better.”

I pretended to be annoyed, but my smile lasted all the way home.

On the walk back, I asked, “Do you still have doubts?”

“Every day.”

“That’s not romantic.”

“It is if I keep choosing you anyway.”

I leaned against his shoulder. The belt rested around his waist, my uneven eyes moving with every step.

“Then choose me tomorrow,” I said.

“I will.”

And for the first time, tomorrow sounded like enough.

At the dorm entrance, Nolan took off the belt and examined the pattern again beneath the yellow light. He had found a small crack in the leather near the buckle.

“I can fix that,” I said.

“Don’t.”

“It’s damaged.”

“It’s evidence that you made it.”

He put it back on and tucked the loose edge beneath the buckle. “Besides, I like that it isn’t perfect.”

“You say that because you don’t have to look at the back.”

“I’ll trust the eyes to keep watch.”

We climbed the stairs slowly, inventing reasons not to reach our rooms. At the landing, he leaned against my door.

“Did you have doubts tonight?” he asked.

“About us?”

“About tomorrow.”

I thought about my audition, my future, and the fear that choosing love would make every other dream smaller. “Yes.”

He nodded as if he had expected that answer.

“But I’m still here,” I said.

“That is a very good beginning.”

I unlocked my door, then turned back. “Nolan?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

His expression became solemn. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s not a promise.”

“It’s an honest one.”

I kissed him and went inside. Through the wall, I heard his door close a moment later. The building settled around us, carrying the small sounds of two people beginning a life neither had planned.