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For two hours, Nick sat by her side, watching the drip, drip, drip of the medication as it trickled into the IV line and swept through the clear plastic tubing into Evie’s bloodstream. She dozed on and off with her pillow and blanket, completed word search puzzles with Nick, and nibbled on a bland menu of salted crackers and flat ginger ale. Afterward, Nick drove her home and lavished her with foot massages, a baked tattie with applesauce, and a cuddle on the sofa while watching her new favorite (roller skate-free) musical, tick, tick… BOOM!
True to his word, Nick doted on her around the clock and only left to pick up groceries or medication. Cleaning, cooking, washing clothes—he took to caretaking with aplomb, erasing any lingering doubts as to whether he’d stick around when life got messy.
Eight days on, Evie’s infusion had started to work its magic. Her Crohn’s flare had diminished considerably, and the stabbing pains and urgent trips to the washroom were no longer keeping her in pajamas or tied to home. A celebration was in order. She threw on a t-shirt, track pants, and hoodie, and joined Nick on a relaxing stroll through the dappled shade of Happy Valley, a hidden gem of flowers, rare woodland, and quiet paths along the Burn of Russadale, one of her favorite spots.
Evie swung Nick’s hand as they meandered in front of a small, abandoned stone cottage called Bankburn. Her cheeks ached from grinning. “I still can’t believe it.” She claimed a seat on the bench below one of the cottage’s windows.
“Got a great price, too.” Nick followed her lead and sat down.
“You…the new owner of my beloved Sinclair house! I bet it has lots of space for clothes. No more cramming your designer duds in the hotel’s peedie closet.”
“Yeah, but here’s an idea…” Nick kissed her hand. “Why don’t we change that ‘you’ to ‘we’?”
Is he suggesting what I think he is? Her heart skipped.
“I know we’ve just reunited, but thirteen years is an awfully long time to be apart. I don’t want to miss another second. So how ’bout it, Tigs? Move in with me?”
Evie would’ve moved into a cardboard box with Nick, but the fact that he was asking about the church-turned-house she’d admired since childhood? Her enthusiasm got the best of her.
“YES, PLEASE!” Eyes wide, she bounced, the sudden movement tweaking her side slightly. “And let’s get a dog—a Japanese Spitz like Ross!”
“Just the one?”
“Well, I’d welcome an entire kennel, but it’s your call. You’ll be the one working from home, taking them out all the time.”
“When we’re not hanging out in the shop’s café,” said Nick. “That’s still cool, right?”
“Dog-friendly is Marwick’s middle name, Crispin!”
Nick laughed and let go of her hand. He pulled a bag of Milk Bottles from his jacket pocket and offered his stash.
Evie crinkled her nose. “Oh, no thanks. I’ve never really been that fond.”
Lips parting, Nick let out a laugh. “Eighteen years since we met and I’m still learning things about you. I thought you liked them!”
“I liked you. Back then I would’ve done anything to make you like me—even forcing down those rubbery monstrosities.”
“And hate-watching Grease 2,” Nick added with a wink.
“I actually enjoy it now.”
“C’mon. Really?”
“I kept it, didn’t I?” She grinned slowly.
“And my bowling shirt,” he smiled. “It always did look better on you.”
Evie leaned in. “Keeping them made me feel closer to you somehow.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.” Nick lowered the bag of candy and fussed with the neck of his white Henley. He pulled out something silver and shiny, something Evie had thought was a long-lost casualty of their shattered past.
She froze. “My necklace?! You still have it!”
“It’s my most prized possession. I had to tuck it away for a while, but it’s been to London and Tokyo, Greece and New York City. It was always with me, and in a way, so were you.”
Smile iridescent, Evie reached up, her fingers caressing each cursive letter. “You did say you’d both come back to me.” She blinked up, finding his loving gaze waiting.
“Some promises just take a little longer.”
