Page 146 of Any Port in a Storm

“I think you need time,” he says slowly. “Time to figure out what you want for yourself, without my interference.”

“I’m sorry,” I start. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

He takes a deep breath. “It’s nice today. I’ll go make some calls and find another place to stay.”

Before I can reply, he grabs his wallet and heads for the door, taking whatever remained of my joy with him.

FORTY-TWO

last july

Nick walks me back to my apartment after midnight, holding my hand the whole way.

“I’m going back to Ogunquit in a couple of days,” I tell him. “But maybe we can get together tomorrow? Keep talking?” At the very least, I’d like to get our friendship back.

“Absolutely,” he agrees. “I can come over anytime.”

“Want to say noon?” I suggest. “We can grab lunch or something.”

Joy rushes across his face. “That sounds perfect.”

But when Nick comes over at precisely twelve o’clock the next day, lunch is the farthest thing from my mind.

In fact, seeing his lithe frame filling the doorway of my apartment is a bit of a mindfuck. I didn’t expect to ever see him here again.

All things considered, I’m feeling more than a little flustered.

“Um. Would you like something to drink?”

He smiles gently. “Sure. That would be great.”

I hurry to the kitchen to grab two sodas from the fridge. “So, what’s new with you? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk about your work.”

“Nothing new, really,” he says, joining me in the kitchen and taking the soda I’m handing him. “Thanks.”

“Planning any trips for summer?”

“Just, um. The one in August.” His cheeks tinge pink.

Oh. Right. Our Dublin trip. The room lurches a bit, and I instinctively reach for the counter to steady myself.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say shakily. “I think I just…I need to sit down.”

Nick guides me to the couch, and I sink onto it gratefully. When he sits down, too, it doesn’t escape my attention that he leaves no space between us.

I’m still feeling a little dizzy, so I lean on his shoulder, against my better judgment. “I’m glad I ran into you yesterday.”

He turns toward me, his face just inches from mine. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I’m struggling not to fall into his eyes. “I miss our friendship.”

He blinks once. Hard. “Is that all you miss?”

My breath catches at the longing in his expression. “You know it isn’t.”

And that’s all it takes—his lips are on mine like no time has passed, his arms wrapping around my neck. I know we shouldn’t—I’m not sure what I can give him anymore. But the magnetism is just too strong, and I want him so badly. I want what we had, even though I know I can’t get it back.