Page 141 of Any Port in a Storm

A deep pang thrums at my core. “I’ve missed you, too.”

And the world shifts on its axis.

I can’t tell if it’s the heat or his apology or the way being here, in his arms, feels more right than anything else in my life, but I submit immediately. Melt into him, hug him back as tightly as humanly possible.

“Laurel,” he breathes, pulling back to look into my eyes. That’s all he says, but I know he’s waiting for permission.

“Yes,” I whisper back, watching his pupils grow.

And then his lips are on mine, and I’m kissing him back. He tastes like lemonade and history and hope, his tongue cool against mine in the sweltering midday sun. I don’t breathe; can’t think. I need him. I need so much more of him.

Just when I’m about to lose myself entirely to Nick, to tell him I’d made a mistake and I want to pick up where we left off in May, I hear someone shout my name.

Breaking free from our kiss, I whirl around to see Spillinger standing behind us, arms crossed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nick stands up from the bench. “What’s going on?”

“Laurel was just in my office.” She spews my name like it’s poison. “She led me to believe that you broke her heart; that things between you two were over.”

“They are over,” he says in a measured tone.

“Yeah,” she sputters. “Right. They look over.”

I follow Nick to the sunny patch where he and Spillinger are currently facing off. “Look, Dr. Spillinger. This was unexpected. Nick and I aren’t together.”

She waves her hands wildly in front of her face. “No. Just stop. This isn’t my business.”

“No, it’s not,” Nick says, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. “So why don’t you leave Laurel alone and keep your relationship with her professional?”

Spillinger snorts. “Coming from you, that’s pretty rich.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know perfectly well what it means. You’ve always been willing to bend the rules of propriety for the sake of chasing tail.”

My jaw drops.

“Okay, you know what? This conversation is over.” Nick takes a step forward. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Laurel, but you need to start treating her the same way you would other students, or I’m going to report you to the ethics committee.”

Spillinger opens her mouth as if to speak, but Nick shakes his head. “We’re done discussing this.” Turning to me, he asks, “Ready?”

If he’s asking whether I’m ready to escape this standoff in the quad, the answer is a resounding yes. I nod hurriedly. “Let’s go.”

We get cannoli from Mike’s Pastry and meander our way back through the city, eventually ending up on a bench near the aquarium. “So, how’ve you been?” Nick asks.

I track a harbor seal as it whooshes through the tank near the ticketing counter. “I’ve been…okay.”

He wrinkles a brow. “Not having a good time in Maine?”

“No, it’s fine,” I say quickly. “There’s just a lot going on. I’ve basically spent every day of the trip chained to my desk, working on this dissertation, and Spillinger decided she hates it, and Ivy’s trying to dredge up ancient family secrets that I’d prefer she leave buried.”

And then, of course, there’s Porter, a guy I met when I went out with Ivy and Oliver last weekend. He and I got drunk and made out a little, and, while I did tell him we could see each other again, I’m not sure it’s a love match. Still, he’s really nice, and that feels like a complicating factor to what’s happened here today.

As if in response to my inner thoughts about Porter, Nick reaches for my hand: no hesitation, no pretext. Just the familiarity of someone who’s known me—who’s been there for years now, and who knows exactly what I need. “That does sound like a lot.”

“But it seems like maybe you’ve taken care of Spillinger,” I tease, something flipping in my chest at how it feels to hold his hand.

He shrugs. “I’m not going to let someone treat you that way. You’ve worked too hard for this.”