Page 148 of Any Port in a Storm

I clear my throat. “I met someone.”

“We just slept together, Laurel.”

“I know. It’s not…it isn’t like that.” I shake my head. “Things with Porter are casual.”

Nick scoffs. “What kind of a name is Porter?”

“Please don’t be like that.”

His eyes flash. “Like what? Angry? Angry that you led me to believe that we—” He exhales sharply, one bitter huff. “How could you not tell me?”

“If it helps, Porter and I haven’t…there hasn’t been sex. Yet.”

His voice rises several decibels. “Yet? Jesus. Do you even care about me at all?”

“You know I do,” I say quietly.

“But you didn’t think it was important to maybe mention this before we slept together?”

“Hey, I’m not the only one who keeps secrets,” I say with more ire than I intend.

He squeezes his lids shut as all the air is sucked from the room. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“Never mind, okay? I don’t want to do this,” I say, fighting back my sorrow. “I think maybe…maybe we’re just better as friends.”

Nick’s eyes are looking a little misty, a little pleading. “Laurel.”

I paint on a smile that feels altogether hollow. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll move past this. Our friendship will survive it.” I reach out to squeeze his hand. “I just think I need some space for a while. You know. To process…everything.”

His fingers are warm in mine, and I don’t want to let go. Can’t let go.

Even though I know I have to.

“Can you just…can you tell me why?”

I take in his rumpled hair and the dejected slump of his shoulders. I want nothing more than to wrap myself in his arms; tell him I’d been overcome by some sort of temporary insanity and that I didn’t mean it. That I don’t want space; that I want quite the opposite.

That he’s all I’ve ever wanted.

But I have to put myself first, don’t I? I can’t let my feelings for Nick, however complicated, get in the way of my future again. I barely skated away from the whole Spillinger debacle with my reputation intact. It could have been the end of my postdoctorate career.

And without my work, what good am I?

I take a deep breath. “You know I made a promise to myself—that I’d never let anyone break my heart again. And I realize now that was kind of childish, because how can you go through life that way?” I absorb the feeling of his hand in mine, knowing it’s the last time. “But I broke that promise, for you. Because the feelings were too strong, and I couldn’t fight them anymore.” I shake my head. “I don’t regret it. But when things ended, not only did it break my heart, but it almost destroyed my career, which is basically all that I have.” My voice warbles. “I don’t even know who I am, outside of my work here. My dissertation—and whatever comes next—that’s it for me. That’s all I am.”

He shakes his head passionately, like I’m missing some critical piece of the puzzle. “You’re so much more than that. Laurel, you’re everything.”

I swallow hard, release his hand. My joy shatters into a million pieces. “I have to put my own oxygen mask on, you know?”

He swallows hard. “Of course.”

“I think—no, I know—this is what I need right now.”

Nick shifts on his feet. “Well. I think I should get out of your hair, then.”

“Yeah.” My voice cracks. “Thanks for understanding.”

“I don’t understand,” he says, dashing my soul into pieces with a piercing gaze. “But I love you, so I’m going to respect your boundaries and give you what you need.”