Page 137 of Any Port in a Storm

“I really think you should try. Remember what Grandpa always used to say?”

“There’s always another way.”

“Exactly. Don’t suffer in silence.” She cracks a smile. “Hey, maybe you can appeal to her feminist side. Show up there and bitch about how Nick is an evil man who broke your heart. That’s probably an experience she can get behind.”

The idea of Nick being an evil man is so hilarious to me, I snort without meaning to. To Ivy, I quip, “Have I ever told you that you might be a genius?”

She hops up. “Nope, but it’s never too late. I’m going to grab a shower, okay?”

“Sounds good. When you get out, we can start on your hair.” Helping Ivy get ready for our night out might be a good distraction.

As she walks away, a wave of guilt hits me—Ivy may not fully understand me, but I’m also not terribly open with her. Never have been. And she clearly would move heaven and earth for me. She deserves better.

I clear my throat. “Oh, and Ivy?”

“Yes?”

I shoot her a genuine smile. “Thanks for being so eager to defend my honor. I know it’s not the same, but…sometimes I imagine this is what it would be like to have a sister.”

Her face softens. “I think maybe this is exactly what it’s like.”

THIRTY-NINE

now

The job offer from Briarford University comes the evening I talk to Margo, probably while Nick and I are busy tangling in my bed. Hers follows shortly behind the next morning. Seeing them both, one atop the other in my inbox, is a lot to process.

Because what the hell am I supposed to choose?

The weather certainly isn’t helping. A warm front has moved over the city, and my air conditioning seems like it can’t quite keep up. The apartment has risen several degrees overnight, and between the heat and the swirling mess of emotions in my mind, I’m finding it hard to think straight.

After two hours of anxiously staring at my ceiling, sweating into my comforter, I follow my growling stomach to the kitchen for lunch. Nick’s staring into the refrigerator, as if waiting for it to tell him what to eat.

Or maybe he’s just trying to cool himself down.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Nick says, his gaze trailing down my legs.

“I’m sorry.” I peel a strand of hair from my forehead and look down at my oversized t-shirt. I figured it covered enough, and my sense of propriety melted away a few hours ago. Every part of me is soaked in sweat. “It’s like the seventh circle of hell in here.”

“No, it’s fine.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I just…” He shakes his head roughly. “I can make us some sandwiches.”

“Avoiding the oven’s a good idea. That way it won’t get any hotter in here.”

He glances back at me ruefully. “Not sure it can get any hotter in here.”

Ignoring the lust that surges through my core at his words, I take a step closer. “Nick.”

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Instant concern floods his features. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Yeah, I will be. It’s just…I got two job offers.”

The tension in his brow rushes down to draw up his grin. “Wow, Laurel! That’s amazing; congratulations!” He moves in for a hug.

“Yeah. But…one of them’s Briarford. And it’s in Philly. Not Boston.”