Page 138 of Any Port in a Storm

“No,” he agrees, forcing a smile. “Philadelphia is not in Boston. You might recall, we’ve actually been there before⁠—”

The reminder of our trip to Philadelphia hits like a gut punch. “Can we stop with the false levity?”

Nick sinks onto the couch. “Sorry. What do you want me to say?”

What do I want him to say? That I shouldn’t go? That I can’t? That leaving would be like taking his heart and throwing it directly into the Charles? That we’ve waited so long for this, and I’d be a fool to give it up? That long-distance relationships so rarely work; that it would be torture to be apart after finally finding our way back to each other?

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs, sliding into feigned composure so easily. “You have to choose what’s best for you.”

“But…what about us?” I sit down beside him.

He reaches for my hand, which turns over automatically at his touch. “We’ll figure it out.”

“I just got you,” I counter. “After all this time, I don’t want to backslide into less.”

“It wouldn’t be less,” he promises. “We’d still be us.”

“Yes, but an us that’s three hundred miles apart.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats.

I open my mouth to reply, but he shakes his head. “I’m not letting you go no matter what.”

The rest of the afternoon is melancholy. I excuse myself to lesson plan, but I really just can’t bear to sit in the muddled chaos of our declarations of love and what might be my impending departure.

Nick’s right: we’d still be us if I took the Briarford job. And I have no intention of letting him go, either. But I don’t know how to justify that urgent, growing need to keep him with the core tenet of my person, which is that I’m not supposed to let a man dictate my future. The gnawing reminder that I shouldn’t make career choices based on him.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I decide to take a shower in the middle of the day. I need a distraction, and it might have the fringe benefit of helping me cool down.

I’m uncurling my bun in the bathroom when I hear Nick behind me.

“I’ve been thinking about…everything.”

“Yeah?”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re leaving,” he says.

I spin to face him; take in the waver of his chin. “What?”

“Even if you’re leaving,” he says, taking a step closer. “I still want this.” He runs his thumb over my cheekbone. “I’ll take whatever time you’re able to give me.”

God, it feels so good to be touched by him. I want his hands on me. Everywhere.

My voice comes out hushed. “Are you sure?”

Nick nods wordlessly, then closes the distance between us. He grabs my hair, which cascades like a waterfall into his open palm, then pulls my head toward his. It’s rougher, more desperate than anything he’s ever done before.

But right now, I need that, too.

Our mouths crush together, two fronts ready for the storm. I don’t know if he’s warm and I’m cold or if we’re both just blistering hot.

Everything about today is so hot; I think my heart and my body are on fire.

Nick laces his fingers through mine, raising my hands above my head and backing me up against the counter. “No matter where you are, you’re not going to lose me,” he whispers.

The twisting at my navel spreads lower. “No?”