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“We both knew that was just an excuse,” I say.
The reality of the situation is setting in now. She rubs her forehead, shuffles her feet. “But what about what you said?” she asks, voice cracking. “Back in New York. What happened to too much going on, and— and needing to keep some distance?”
What had happened to it? I’m at a complete loss, because though I remember saying the words I can’t remember ever feeling them.
I lift one shoulder and let it drop. “The magic of Paris?” I guess.
Her mouth opens slightly, disbelieving and also suddenly trying not to laugh. “That’s what you’re going with?”
“Will you allow it?”
She almost does. I can see the want in her face, but the logical side is still turning in her brain. She hasn’t fallen over the cliff like I have, or not fully anyway. My heart sinks when I see the decision form well before the words leave her mouth.
“Look, Nick…”
I turn away. “You don’t need to say anything,” I say gruffly.
“No, I do.” She grabs my arm, turning me gently. “I need some time to think,” she says. “It’s not that I don’t like you. You’re… different from anyone I’ve ever met. But Brent…”
“Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on him,” I growl. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
Thankfully she shakes her head emphatically. “Oh god no. Absolutely not.”
“Then why are you letting him get to you?”
Evie bites her lip and tears form in her eyes. “I don’t want him to. Believe me, it’s the last thing I want. But him leaving me was the worst shock of my life. I was utterly broken in the aftermath. And to have them both here, on top of all the shit with Kara. It’s just a lot. And I’m tired. I’m really, really tired of trying to see the good in people.”
“Hey. Hey, come on,” I repeat more emphatically when she doesn’t look at me. Her gaze travels slowly up to meet mine. The sorrow in her eyes makes me feel a ferocity that I’m unaccustomed to. I want to protect her from these feelings. I wish they were physical monsters, something I could beat back with my fists. I’ve never been the best at comfort, but I can try. For her.
“It’s been a long day,” I say. “A stressful day. You just need some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Everything will be better in the morning.”
Evie presses her hands to her face. “I’m sorry, Nick,” she says again. “I promise it’s not you.”
“Look at me, Evie,” I say sternly enough that her hands drop in surprise. “Don’t you dare apologize for your feelings. And don’t worry about me. It’s okay.”
She nods hesitantly and, slowly, asking permission with my movements, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. She allows it, putting her head back on my shoulder, where it had rested during the plane ride.
“It really is beautiful,” she mutters.
The light from the buildings is glistening off the river. Quiet couples walk hand-in-hand down the riverfront. The night is warm and magical and as romantic a setting as it’s possible to have in this finite world. But none of it can compare to how Evie looked moments before my lips had connected with hers. Even though I’m disappointed, I try to enjoy the view and the simplicity of her head resting against me.
And take comfort in the fact that tomorrow is another day.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EVIE
I wake up feeling like I got hit by a truck.
We’d made it back to the hotel fine, of course. The truck was just Nick’s lips smashing against me and temporarily knocking me off this plane of reality. I’m not sure where I’d gone, but I do know that I’m not happy to be back. Everything seems unlevel and off-focus.
I’m not sure how to return to the world I’d known before.
I’m not sure I want to.
Nick and I are on the edge of something. Stopping him last night had felt futile, like needlessly delaying the inevitable. I’m still not sure why I did it.
I toss and turn in bed. It’s early, probably only 4 a.m. back in New York, but the sun has risen here, and my mind is active. My exhaustion from last night has abated slightly and I’m finding that what I need more than sleep is a friend to talk to.
