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“It was probably gaudy, trashy, and over the top, just like her,” Rachel snapped.
“I hope she tripped walking down the aisle,” Brooke added with a wicked grin, coming to a halt as we rounded the corner to our apartment. “What the hell is that? Is that someone at our door?” She squinted at a dark figure that sat slumped against our door, as if that would help her see more clearly.
Rachel and I both stopped walking, and I gasped. I’d recognize that shape, that shadowed figure anywhere, even in my drunken state.
Nick.
He was here.
“Oh my God,” Rachel whispered before letting my arm go.
“What is it?” Brooke asked before it dawned on her. “Wait, is that him?” When Rachel nodded, Brooke’s gaze pinged between Nick and me. “Is he dead? He’s not moving.”
My heart jumped.
“Don’t say that,” I demanded as I rushed toward him. He sat against the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he slept. Lord only knew how long he’d been waiting there.
It had been so long since I’d seen him. Too long. If I thought time would be bad to him, I was wrong. Nick Fisher looked better than ever, and it had nothing to do with the tux he was wearing.
“Are you gonna wake him up, or do I get to do it?” Rachel asked wickedly, and I felt like a wild animal, willing to tear her arm off if she even touched him.
I bent down, my face inches from his as I studied him. As my heart pounded inside my chest, the weight in my stomach disappeared. This was Nick, my Nick, and I still loved him. After all this time—Go
d, I still loved him.
Placing my hand on his shoulder, I gently shook his sleeping frame.
His eyes opened slowly and his wary gaze instantly softened as recognition dawned. “Jess.”
“What are you doing here?” My eyes filled with tears, my entire body hopeful after so many months of feeling anything but hope.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said as he reached for my face, and I leaned into his touch, craving it. “I couldn’t fucking do it, Jess.”
When someone cleared their throat behind us, alerting Nick to the fact that we weren’t alone, he looked up and pushed himself up from the ground with a crooked smile on his lips. “Rachel.”
She grinned back at him. “This better be good. I swear to God, Nick Fisher, this better be the story to end all stories,” she said, but her threat lacked any real force behind it.
Nick looked at me, his eyes locking on mine as he said, “I’ll let you know how it ends.”
“I’m Brooke, by the way,” my roommate said as she moved past him, reaching for her keys.
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Nick.”
“Oh, I know who you are. And yeah, what Rachel said.” Brooke tried to sound tough before unlocking the door and disappearing inside, dragging a reluctant Rachel with her.
“How long have you been out here?” I asked. The alcohol that only minutes ago was fogging my mind had seemingly evaporated, leaving me acutely aware of every detail of what was happening now.
He shrugged. “A couple hours, maybe.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I don’t have my phone. I had your address on a napkin in my glove compartment. It’s been there for months. I could never bring myself to throw it out. Thank God I didn’t, although I would have found you anyway.”
I pursed my lips, a million questions on the tip of my tongue, but I stopped them all and waited for Nick to take the lead. He stared at me, his eyes looking into mine like he was searching for answers somewhere in their depths.
“I am so sorry, Jess. For everything.” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “I messed up when it came to you, over and over again. It’s like the only thing I could get right was doing you wrong.” His eyes narrowed, his expression pained.
I sucked in a shaky breath, hoping he would go on before I was required to say anything in response. I craved more from him, needed more than just a simple apology. As I waited, his thumb drew lazy circles across my fingers.
