Page 40 of Gorgeous Misery

So Nick nods his head. Just once. It’s not really a nod, it’s a ‘oh, I see’ kind of gesture. One that says that question was more polite small talk than sit-rep. “I’ve left messages for you. So has Nathan.”

“I haven’t checked them, Nick. Not in a very long time.”

He wants to be mad at me, I can tell. But he lets out a breath and his annoyance goes with it. “So you really did miss all my fuck-you messages.”

I nod. And smile. “I did.”

“Good.” And now his good mood is back. “We’re not gonna talk about work, Wendy. Not until after New Year’s.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“But on January second, you will still be here, and we will talk about things. Promise me.”

“Nick—”

“No. Promise me. I’m serious. This is what I want for Christmas. Your promise that this year, you will not run.”

“I mean… New Year’s is a whole week away,” I say. His smile grows. “How can I possibly put up with you for a whole week without wanting to slap you and walk out?”

He stares intently into my eyes. “You can do it, Wen. I have total faith in you.”

Then he kisses me.

It’s that same hello kiss we’ve been doing since I turned eighteen.

I have dreamed about this kiss over the years. I have yearned for it during some very dark nights. I have even tried to describe it with words in a letter once. And I never could find the right ones, so I gave up and did something else instead. I folded up the paper empty of words, and then I wrote on the front, ‘Kisses with Nick,’ and put it in my pocket. I have been carrying it around since birthday #18. And every so often a word will come to me, one worthy of how kisses with Nick make me feel, and I write it down.

That letter is in my pocket right now. The paper is worn and smooth and lots of the words are smudged because I wrote most of it in pencil.

Nick breaks the kiss and I take a moment to catch my breath. We look at each other. And I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m thinking, This is my guy. He’s my one.

And even though I know, if I told him that, he would tell me the same thing back, I would never believe him.

I’m not his girl.

I’m just his stand-in.

I’m just his replacement for Lauren and Sasha, and maybe even Lauren’s mother, who died long before I was lying awake at night thinking about Nick Tate. But she had to have meant something to him. He got her pregnant. And as far as I know, he’s never let that happen again. There have been so many other girls before me. He is almost fourteen years older than me and I feel like he lived several lives apart from me before we settled in to what we have and who we are to each other.

These other girls, I can’t compete with them. And in my small world, my life has only ever had two men in it. Just Chek and Nick.

And now he’s the only one left.

So it’s just him.

“What the hell are you thinking about?”

I let out a long sigh, then ease myself away from Nick and walk over to the kitchen, which is a mess of dishes and saucepans waiting to be washed in the sink. “Were you cooking?”

“Yes. I told you I baked cookies. But don’t change the subject. What were you just thinking about?”

I turn to face him again, then lean against the butcher-block counter and fold my arms across my chest. “I was thinking that…” I consider lying.

“Don’t lie,” he cautions me.

Which makes me smile. “OK. Then… I will start with a question.”

“I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”