Page 10 of Any Port in a Storm

“I guess not.” He scrubs his jaw with a weary hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I consider him over my mug. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so stressed. And we hung out multiple times a week while he was writing his dissertation, which gave him no end of agita.

“Stay here,” I say suddenly. Anything to get that look off his face.

Shock overtakes his features. “What?”

“Stay here,” I repeat. “With me.”

“Laurel.” He shakes his head. “I can’t⁠—”

“You can.” I push my mug to the side. “It’ll be fine. You can have the couch; I have more than enough space. We’re both isolating anyway. And we already know each other’s bad habits. It’ll be easy.”

He’s regarding me cautiously. “Stay here.” He tests the words like my offer is a thawing lake he has to cross.

“Yeah. Then you don’t have to find a rental.” He doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “It’ll save you a ton of money.”

“My finances aren’t something you need to worry about. And what about Porter?”

“Porter’s…he doesn’t matter.”

He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but I cut him off. “It’s casual. We’re both free to see other people. Not that you and I are…this isn’t that, of course,” I tack on in a rush.

He furrows his brow. “Casual doesn’t seem like you.”

I exhale sharply, caught between exasperation and a laugh. “Porter has nothing to do with this.”

Nick looks unconvinced, but he says, “Okay.”

I force a bright smile. “If you stay, the next two weeks won’t be so excruciatingly lonely. I was honestly worried about how I’d get through it without chopping off all my hair or developing a devastating alcohol habit. This’ll be good.”

His low chuckle echoes through my chest. “I’m trying to picture you with a mullet.”

“I didn’t say anything about a mullet.”

He shrugs. “It’d still be cute.”

Something stirs low in my belly. “Nick.”

“Okay, fine. I’m thinking it over.”

“And?”

He sighs. “I’m just a little worried. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Part of me wants to pretend I don’t understand the question. But I know what he’s really asking is, “Do you actually think we can share a living space for two weeks since we used to date? Since we’ve seen each other naked? Since we broke up and ruined everything?”

I toy with the end of my ponytail and spring for an alternative truth. “I think we can do this. These are…extenuating circumstances. And I really want to help you.”

He studies me from across the table for what feels like an eternity. “Okay,” he says at last. “Thank you.”

“Yeah?” I can’t fight the grin.

“Yeah.” The corners of his eyes crinkle. “It’ll be an adventure.”

I get lost in his laugh lines for a moment; in the memories. “I could definitely use an adventure.”

FOUR