Page 105 of Any Port in a Storm

“Go ahead,” she says at last.

“I just wanted to let you know that Nick’s here with me. Do you remember Nick?”

My mom sounds amused. “Of course I remember Nick. He’s such a sweetheart.”

Heat rushes to my hairline like I’m twelve and admitting to my first crush. “Well, he’s actually been staying with me during lockdown. He, um…he had nowhere else to go.”

“Whoa,” my mom exhales. “You didn’t think to mention this any of the other times we talked?”

A laugh bubbles up. “I was just nervous, I guess.”

“Why would you be nervous?” My dad is so matter-of-fact; it makes sense that he wouldn’t understand this.

“There are actually some things I didn’t tell you about Nick,” I say quickly. “We, um…we used to date. Last spring. And because of that…well, I just was afraid to tell you that he was here. We have a lot of fraught subtext.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’m actually happy for you that you don’t have to isolate all alone. I don’t know what I’d do without your father these days. Being stuck in the house is not at all my bag.”

Relief creeps in that my parents are being so understanding. “I hear you.”

“So,” my mom asks, “are you two…together?”

“Oh,” I say, suddenly very flustered. “No, we’re not together. We’re just⁠—”

I look up with a start as the front door clicks shut. Take in Nick’s hurt expression. Feel my heart sink all the way to my toes.

“Sorry,” I breathe. “I’m going to have to let you go.”

THIRTY

last february

When I come out of the bathroom, Nick’s tucked under the blankets in my bed, one arm bent under his head. It’s making his left biceps bulge in an exceptionally attractive way.

I swallow hard.

“You sure this is okay?” He sounds nervous, too.

“I promise.” I slide under the sheet next to him, then turn out the light on my nightstand. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to shimmy right up against his chest and bury myself in his arms.

We’re quiet for a moment, then he says, “I feel so bad for Grace.”

“Me too. I can’t believe Leo would dump her like that.”

“I can.”

I snap my head to the right. “You can?”

He rolls over onto his side to face me, shifting one hand under the pillow. “Yeah. Never liked the guy.”

“Oh, you didn’t?” I tease.

“Nope.”

“And why’s that?”

I can see his shrug in the glow of the television, which is still playing Frasier reruns on mute. “Just didn’t think he was good enough for her.”

“You didn’t want to risk her wrath by warning her?”