Page 64 of Any Port in a Storm

“Oh.”

Nick is trying so hard not to laugh. “Oh?”

“It just tastes like sausage, really.”

“See?” His grin is huge now. “Good, right?”

“It’s not bad.”

He slides his elbows down the island until one arm brushes mine. “I told you, you can trust me.”

I blush despite my best efforts to keep the way he makes me feel under wraps. Other than Grace, and probably Ivy, Nick’s my best friend in the world. I can’t risk ruining that just because I happen to think he’s the hottest guy on the planet.

I hold up my coffee mug in salute. “I’ll never doubt you again.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“So, how are things going with your dissertation?”

Nick’s face falls. “They’re going okay.”

“You’re going to have to work a lot harder than that to convince me, O’Connor.”

He smiles sadly. “You always did have your finger right on the pulse of my moods.”

“What are friends for, right?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“What?”

“Nothing. Sorry. Um, the dissertation’s going okay. Research is good. I just found out I was awarded that grant I applied for.”

“What?” I grab his arm in excitement. “Nick, that’s amazing!” He’d been hoping to get funding to go to London to study some primary source material in person. It was pretty competitive, and he’d just about written off the possibility of winning it.

He looks down at where my hand is covering his wrist, and I see crimson race toward his hairline. I hurriedly move my fingers.

“Yeah, I’m happy about it.” He toys with the napkin next to his plate. “It does mean I’ll be away for most of the summer, though. I’m going to head back home from there to spend some time with my family.”

“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t you?” In the grand scheme of things, London to Dublin is basically the equivalent of Boston to Baltimore.

Nick shoots me a furtive glance. “We had plans.”

My mind flashes over the museum crawl we’d hoped to tackle this summer when classes were light. We’d planned to start in Boston, then work our way into New York and through Pennsylvania before heading back home. It was going to be obnoxiously nerdy and, we’d hoped, the perfect escape from our dissertation stress.

I force a reassuring smile, even as I feel disappointment leaching in to coat my joy. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Your research trip is way more important.”

His voice is quiet. “Our trip was important, too.”

“Oh, please.” I wave my hand in the air. “We can do that any time.”

His eyes catch mine, and I can’t help but notice that he looks profoundly sad. “Are you upset with me?” I ask.

“Of course not.”

“But you are upset.”

He perches his chin on his hand and regards me cautiously. “Because I was really looking forward to doing this with you, Laurel. Were you not?”