Page 40 of Any Port in a Storm

He quirks a brow. “No?”

“No way,” I bluster. “In fact, why be weird or cagey about it? Let’s do charades night. And we can tell them the whole crazy story.”

His brows go up even higher. “The whole story?”

“No,” I stammer, feeling hot all over. “Just about the lockdown. And the CAS party.”

“Oh,” he says quietly, a sardonic tilt to his lips. “That whole story.”

“Yeah.” I force levity. “That whole story.”

TWELVE

five years earlier

“Are you sure it’s not going to be weird?” Grace surveys me over a plate of scrambled eggs.

“What, the party?” We’re having some friends over tonight to celebrate Halloween. I’m going to make some appetizers, and Grace bought enough vodka for twenty.

“Yes, the party.”

I swallow a mouthful of coffee. “Why would it be weird?”

Grace shoots me an obnoxiously knowing glance. “Sam and Nick.”

I wrinkle my brow. “What do you mean?”

She lowers her voice, even though we’re alone here. “I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Grace is right—I know exactly what she means.

Even though Sam and I have been dating for the better part of a year now, and Nick and Alyssa for almost as long, things have never quite settled out between us. In the beginning, Grace and I tried to arrange several triple dates, with her and Roger as the neutral parties.

Alyssa was always pleasant enough, and she was generally quite nice to me. I wanted to like her, so, so badly—Nick mattered too much to me to imagine a future in which I couldn’t get along with the woman he was dating.

Sam was fine, for the most part. He’s such an easy-going guy, and it’s not in his nature to hate anyone. He treated Nick the same way he treated Grace—at least at first.

It was Nick who was the problem. While not downright hostile to Sam, he would often bristle at things Sam said, or go out of his way to avoid eye contact. It made things awkward to the point that Sam actually brought it up with me, about two months in.

“What’s Nick’s deal, anyway?” he’d asked.

“How long do you have?” I joked.

“Laurel,” Sam had said, shaking his head. “He clearly doesn’t like me. And if he’s important to you, I want to smooth things over.”

“You’re too good for me,” I’d said, running my fingers through his hair.

“Nah. But I will accept your help in mending fences with Nick.”

So I tried. The next time I saw Nick, sans Alyssa, I’d brought the topic up as gracefully as I could.

“Sam is wondering if he…perhaps…did something to offend you.”

Nick had barely looked up from his book. “Nope.”

“Nick.”

He raised his gaze to meet mine. “Laurel.”