Page 89 of Any Port in a Storm

Ever since Grace moved, and I gave up our two-bedroom apartment in favor of a smaller place just off campus, my life has consisted strictly of writing my dissertation, having meetings with Spillinger, and hanging out with Nick. Sometimes his roommate, Max, joins us, but that’s about it.

I’ve been too busy working to even keep in touch with Ivy all that much, although we have started planning our annual family trip to Ogunquit for this summer. Things have been a little raw ever since we lost Grandpa Charlie, and we want to make sure Grandma Eleanor can make as many happy memories as possible in her twilight years.

The trip will be good for me. Even though it’s several months away, I really need a break. I’ve always struggled to extricate myself from projects, but my dissertation has taken my tendency to hyperfocus to another level entirely. Every morning, I get up, curl my hair, and dress for class. I give my lectures, then retreat to the library or my living room to get some work done. I barely have to think about any of it anymore, my routines are so fixed.

It’s usually Nick, sometime around 5:45, calling me and demanding I get some sunlight or meet him for dinner, that forces me to take a break. Sometimes, he even shows up at my apartment unannounced with a bag full of groceries and cooks for me while I work.

“I remember this stress,” he’ll say when I tell him he shouldn’t have. “You were always there for me. Now it’s my turn to help you.”

I don’t know what I would do without him, really. So making things awkward is not an option.

And besides, he deserves better than that.

Grace finally shows up, hanging on Leo’s arm, ten minutes before the game starts.

“Sorry, guys. Leo and Steve wanted to grab beers at Marcella’s before the game.”

I will my face into a neutral expression, harnessing everything in me to refrain from judgment. To refrain from hating Leo for keeping us waiting; for making Grace walk a mile from the bar in heels; for the way his gaze just slipped down to my chest. I’m wearing a low-cut top, but that’s just because I haven’t done laundry in over a week, and the number of clean green shirts I own is woefully small to begin with. I’m not into basketball, really, but I wanted to make at least half an effort to support the Celtics.

“Nice to meet you,” Leo grins, holding out his hand to shake mine. “You must be Laurel.” I’m immediately uneasy, given the way he just undressed me with his eyes, but my mind flashes back to my promise to Grace—that I would give him a chance.

Maybe I imagined it.

I force a smile. “Great to meet you, also. I’ve heard so many wonderful things from Grace.”

Leo holds onto my hand for what feels like several seconds too long. I toss a quick glance to Grace, but she’s checking her phone.

“Nice to meet you, Leo. I’m Nick.” Nick offers his hand, forcing Leo to drop mine, then slides his arm casually around my shoulders. “Should we head inside?”

My gaze snaps to his, but his face is utterly neutral. The only possible explanation for this sudden display is the fire burning in his eyes.

If I didn’t remember with agonizing clarity how things ended in Philadelipa, I’d almost say Nick seems…jealous. I inhale sharply. Had he noticed Leo checking me out? Shaking my hand with a bit too much familiarity?

I feel hot all over, and I wobble a little in my gray wedge boots. Nick had insisted on driving us to the Garden and dropping me off right out front, so I hadn’t needed to walk very far. Still, I now find myself regretting my choice of footwear. Something about this evening is making me feel like I’m going to fall over.

Nick tightens his arm around my shoulders, steadying me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t move his arm until we get to the security line, but the heat it leaves behind keeps me warm for the rest of the night.

TWENTY-FIVE

now

Iwake up on the couch, my head on Nick’s chest, the strap of my bra caught in my hair. He’s lying on both a throw pillow and his pants.

As last night’s dalliance rushes back in, I try and fail to fight a blush.

Especially when it hits me that we’re both still completely naked.

Pushing up on one hand as gingerly as I can, I peel myself off Nick, then muster all my thigh strength to stand up without leaning on him.

“Where’re you going?” he murmurs sleepily, reaching out to grab my arm.

I freeze. “Just to make some coffee.”