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TWENTY-SEVEN

EVIE

Then, Monday, August 23, thirteen years ago

“Surprise!” Bounding into Evie’s bedroom like an excitable Labrador puppy, Nick dropped his backpack and swept her off her feet, his spinning embrace flinging the sweater she was folding to the floor. “I freakin’ love you!”

I love you, too—but ow! Snatching two fistfuls of the back of his track jacket, Evie winced over his shoulder, the fluttery giddiness in her chest no match for the barbed wire uncoiling in her abdomen. “You’re a day early!” Her voice was raspy, struggling through clipped breaths.

“Changed my flight and came straight here. Your mum let me in.”

“Upstairs, too.” His twirl slowing, Evie’s bare feet happily reunited with the carpet.

“My inventory skills must’ve really impressed to get the green light today.”

Evie knew the real reason for her mother’s clemency but didn’t spill. “I’m glad you went, but I’m even happier you’re back.” She adjusted the fallen strap of her tank top and looped her arms around his neck, kissing him slowly, tenderly until Nick’s lips curved into a smile.

“You always make everything better.”

Evie had been dreading this moment. She blinked up at him. “I’m sorry about London.”

“Ahh, it’s okay. Actually, it’s a blessing in disguise.” Kissing Evie’s nose, he let her go and glanced around the room, giving her shelves of romance novels, sea glass, and jelly bean-bright My Little Ponies a non-judgmental once-over. “The thought of sitting in makeup for four freakin’ hours a day put me off the project pretty quick.” He strolled past the window, framing the sunset’s sherbet glow, and picked up the stuffed Loch Ness Monster from Evie’s desk, a recent acquisition from Inverness—so recent its hospital gift shop price tag still dangled from a plush flipper.

Her eyes widened, hoping he wouldn’t notice where Nessie came from. She planned to tell him everything—about her flying visit, all the tests, and her upcoming surgery—but not until he had a moment to decompress.

Nick ran his finger over the sea monster’s back humps. “The final nail in the coffin was the new scene they added—the werewolf smothered in live centipedes. Can you imagine, Tigs?! ME with all those tickly, wriggly legs crawling across my skin?!”

Hugging her belly, Evie squirmed. “That’s a panic attack waiting to happen.”

“God yeah. I told Polly, ‘I don’t give a toss how large the payday is, I don’t do creepy crawlies—ever!’”

“Was your mum disappointed, though?”

“Does Rupert love cows?”

“Well, it’s still good you went,” said Evie.

Nick gave Nessie an affectionate pat and returned her to the desk. Evie breathed easier as he moved on, passing her cork bulletin board and the treasure-trove of postcards from his travels over the years: Corfu, Saint-Tropez, Positano, and many more. Written in Nick’s messy boy scribble, the messages celebrated sun-drenched pools, packed nightclubs, and drool-worthy meals, and always ended with “Wish you were here, Evie!” and the much treasured “x”. He might’ve been thousands of miles away, hobnobbing with his family’s famous friends, but Evie always felt connected to him.

“Oh, I brought you something from London.” Lowering himself onto one knee, Nick tore into his backpack, pulling out tangled earbuds and balled-up Milk Bottle wrappers. “I know you said not to, but…”

As he plowed through his belongings, Evie surreptitiously loosened the tie on her flannel pajama bottoms and climbed onto her bed. With a careful scoot of her bum, she reclined into the welcoming mountain of pillows leaning against the headboard and hugged her cherished orca.

“This”—Nick’s hands reappeared with something white and made of fabric, rolled up tight—“is SO you.” Rising to his feet, he gave the bundle a firm shake and unfurled a t-shirt, its front adorned with a sparkly blue, roller-skating Starman.

Evie fell into a jaw-dropping stare. “Noooo!” she squealed as Nick draped it across her bent knees. “Starlight Express? How’d you—?”

“One of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s people. I told her how much you love the musical and she sent this to Polly the next day.”

Trading her orca for his thoughtful gift, Evie skimmed her finger across the glittery artwork. “Oh my god, Nick! I love it!” She hugged the t-shirt against her chest. “Thank you!”

“She also gave me sheet music. Got Andrew to sign it, too.”

“WHAT?! You do realize my mum’s gonna love you forever, right?”

Nick laughed. “Hey, gotta stay in her good books somehow.”

“Like you have to worry.”