Page 129 of Any Port in a Storm

“How is it that you feel about me?”

Nick doesn’t hesitate. “I’m in love with you. You already know that.”

Now I’m going to faint. Or cry, or throw up. Maybe all three at once. “No,” I manage. “No, you can’t do that.”

He tilts his head. “Can’t do what?”

“Tell me you love me and expect me to just forget about everything else.”

“You asked me how I feel about you,” Nick says, reaching for my fingers. “I’m telling you how I feel.”

I pull my hand away. “It’s just a little hard to believe that right now.”

His eyes well up. I have to look away, or I’m going to cry, too. “When we were just friends, we didn’t talk about who we were seeing. Hell, you were still in high school when I dated Elaine the first time. It’s so far in the past. And on Halloween last year—” He clocks my disgust and slides into a gentler register. “You’d just gotten done telling me about that guy you went out with. Mark, or whatever?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“I was hurting, okay?” His voice is louder now. “I’ve been in love with you for years. And the timing’s never been right. But last fall, we’d both been single for a really long time, and I thought that maybe…” He shakes his head. “Well, anyway, you went out with Mark, and you sounded happy. And I went to this house party one of the English professors threw, and Elaine was there, and she was just so…interested. She wanted my attention, Laurel. She wanted to spend time with me.” His eyes are pleading. “I shouldn’t have slept with her, but you and I weren’t together. Everything felt broken. And it was really hard to walk away from someone who actually cared about me.”

“I care about you,” I say, fire wrapped around every word. “I care about you more than I do anybody else in the world.”

“Yeah.” He wipes at a stray tear. “But did you love me then?”

The ringing in my ears intensifies. Yes, I want to scream. I’ve always loved you.

But that’s not what comes out.

“I think I need some time,” I say, my voice breaking. “To process all of this.”

His jaw drops, then he closes his eyes. “Okay. Yeah, of course.”

We’re both still sitting there, facing off over a gulf of grief and love and history. I wish I could take it all back; unlearn this information and return to the perfection we’ve been enjoying of late.

But it’s too late for that. The damage is done.

“I think I’d like to be alone right now,” I manage.

Nick’s face is grief personified. “Yeah. I’ll get out of your hair.”

He stands up and walks toward the door, taking my heart with him.

“I’ll call you when I’ve figured things out,” I promise.

He leans against the door. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.”

I call Nick later that night. “Can you come over?”

“Of course,” he says.

I spend the time between the call and his arrival nervously pacing around my apartment. I’ve been racking my brain all day, trying to figure out what to do. How to handle what he’s told me.

All of my thoughts fly straight out of my mind when I see him. His hair is even more rumpled than usual, with finger tracks showing the anxiety he’s harboring. His eyes are a little puffy, and I wonder if he’s been crying.

My breath catches in my throat.

“Should I be nervous?” he asks.

My eyes fill with tears. “It was such a leap, for us to pivot our friendship into something more.”