Page 50 of Any Port in a Storm

I scowl. “You’re the worst liar on earth, Nicholas.”

“Grace and I are taking our job very seriously, that’s all.”

I bump his shoulder with mine. “And what job is that, exactly?”

Nick turns his eyes on me. “Taking care of you. And making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I am. And what about you?”

He swallows a bite of crust. “What about me?”

“It hasn’t been so long since you were sitting in exactly this spot yourself. Actually,” I say, pointing to the couch, “exactly this spot. Right here.”

“This is true,” he chuckles. “But I’m okay. On some level, I think Alyssa was right.”

My stomach lurches. I don’t think Nick realizes I overheard part of their conversation. “Right about what?”

“I’m not sure I really wanted to be with her. At least, not anymore.”

“Oh.” My voice is barely a whisper, all my energy rushing to the overwhelming need to parse his subtext. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. Not every relationship can be the one.”

“Yeah. But one of them will be.”

“Yeah.” His eyes meet mine. “One of them will be.”

I’m suddenly hyperaware of the heat from his leg beside me, and a violent warmth takes hold of me, as if by osmosis. I clear my throat and lift my drink. “Well, here’s to us finding it.”

He clinks his glass against mine. “I’ll drink to that.”

FIFTEEN

now

The morning after I clean the oranges, I call Porter before I get out of bed. My nerves hum with worry as I wait for him to pick up.

He answers on the last ring. “Hey. This is a surprise.”

I’m sure it is, because we don’t really do phone calls. Or conversation at all, honestly.

“Hey,” I say, feeling very panicked. I’ve only been awake for a few minutes. I should have rehearsed this call.

Or at least waited until I’d caffeinated.

I’m afraid to say the wrong thing; to insult a man who has been nothing but kind to me, even though I know I’ll never love him.

I run my finger over the fluffy white comforter I bought on a whim last spring. Nick and I had gone to see a movie, then stumbled into a Bed Bath & Beyond while waiting for our dinner reservations. Despite my protestations, Nick dragged the hulking bag through the mall for me and put it next to him in the restaurant booth.

I squeeze my eyes shut. This is the right decision.

“Look, Porter. I don’t want to bury the lede. I…well, I think we should stop seeing each other.”

“Oh.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet.