Page 73 of Any Port in a Storm

“If you put on these gloves,” she’d said, holding up a pair, “you can hold it.”

I swear, Nick had almost passed out.

After he stopped shaking, he gazed at the faded paper adoringly, then read aloud.

“But I am happy in the knowledge that we are friends again, and that our love has passed through the shadow and the light of estrangement and sorrow and come out rose-crowned as of old. Let us always be infinitely dear to each other, as indeed we have been always. I think of you daily, and am always devotedly yours. Oscar.”

I don’t think there was a dry eye in the room.

“Best day of your life?” I joke now.

“Actually, yeah.” His gaze is tight on me. “I can’t thank you enough, Laur. It’s not even just the letter. This trip has been…”

“Flawless?”

He nods. “Most fun I’ve ever had.”

“Well,” I toss my hair, trying to defray the awkwardness. “I am the most fun.”

Nick snorts. “You said it, my friend.”

We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then I walk my fingers across the table, up his wrist. “Can I try your drink?”

He slides it toward me. “Be my guest.”

We’d managed to find a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel, so we’re celebrating our good fortune with cocktails. I got some sort of pink martini that looks like it belongs at a unicorn’s birthday party, and Nick got a Moscow Mule.

“Mmm, that’s pretty good,” I say, lips around the straw. I’m feeling more than a little tipsy at this point, but in a loose, languid kind of way that makes me want to do something reckless.

Nick’s attention is hovering somewhere around the top of the straw. “You can have it if you want.”

“No, no. I’ve just never had one before. I wanted to try it.”

“Want me to order you one?”

I should probably say no. Drinks are expensive, and we’re spending a fortune on this trip as it is. As it turns out, there’s some sort of concert in downtown Philly this week that drew a huge crowd, and the hotel cost more than double what we’d originally planned when we outlined our summer road trip.

Not to mention, I’ve already had one drink, and I’m plenty tipsy as it is.

But Nick’s eyes are huge on me in the low light of this bar, and we don’t have to drive. And besides, I know I’m safe with him—it’s Nick. We’ve been drunk together countless times in the past. All we have to do tonight is stumble back across the parking lot and into our third-floor hotel room.

“Sure,” I agree, heart flip-flopping around when he smiles. “Let’s do it.”

Two drinks later, and the neon glow of the jukebox in the corner is enticing me like it’s El Dorado. “Do you have any quarters?” I ask Nick, coming up short in the bottom of my purse.

He digs around in his wallet, then lays four coins out on the table. I reach for them, but he covers them with his hand. “Wait.”

“Wait?”

“I need to know what sort of music I’m funding.”

He’s fighting a grin, but I let mine grow. “I don’t even know what they have.”

“Okay,” he nods in mock seriousness. “Go check it out, but report back before you commit.”

I giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, I hold the purse strings.”