Date: February 13
Subject: Hello
It's perfect. It goes with our things beautifully.
Someday, I hope you'll tell me about Marrakesh and your other travels.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Nick
I blinked repeatedly,trying to keep my eyes open. I'd spent more than twenty hours in surgery today, and it was February, which meant there were forty-five minutes of sunlight each day. I was crashing fast, but determined to get some screen time with Erin before I headed out to Kenya for two months. Part of me still couldn't believe I was going, and another part of me—one that seemed to grow with each day—wanted to call it all off. Functioning without video chatting several times each week seemed impossible, and that didn't even account for our daily email exchanges.
"I got roped into a conversation tonight," Erin said. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned back against the wall. It was always strange seeing her in the grad student flats at Oxford, the old, shadowy space such a contrast to her bright, book-filled apartment in Iceland. She only stayed at Oxford; she lived in Iceland. "Socializing is the worst, and there's nothing I can do to avoid it. I can roll with the science talk, and the political stuff, too. But then someone will ask where I'm from, and it invariably leads to asking if my family is still there. It's always, 'Is it just you? Any siblings? Are your parents still in Boston? Do you get back there often?' I never have the words for any of that, but this"—she held up her hand, the one with the wedding ring on her middle finger—"generates some questions of its own."
"Was that the topic?" I asked, jerking my chin toward the hand still suspended in front of her face. It wasn't her fault but Ihatedthat she didn't wear it on the proper finger, and I was too tired to wipe the resulting scowl from my face.
"Sort of," Erin said. "The hazards of marriage while pursuing a field-research-driven doctorate."
"That sounds light and cheery," I said.
She tugged her sleeves down, over her hands, and shrugged. "Everyone thought it was amazing that I was here, doing my thing, and you were heading to Africa, doing your thing. Consensus was that we are quite enlightened."
I had to laugh at that. I'd been expecting something more hostile and judgmental, but leave it to the academics to bring it back around to the research. "Is that Oxford-speak for sexually frustrated?"
"Probably not," she said. "They don't know how it is. Being married to you changes things."
I barked out another laugh. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," she said emphatically. "I went years without sex before you. I focused on my research and I traveled, and things were good. I was good. I didn't want anything else, and now…" She shook her head as if she couldn't believe what she was about to say. "And now, I want…everything. I don't know whateverythingis, but I want it."
I dragged my hand down over my face. It was a shoddy attempt at hiding my broad grin. I could've pressed for specifics, or reminded her that she had to take a stab at resolving her issues with Shannon. I didn't. That wasn't how I wanted to spend the time we had remaining.
"You look delirious," she said. "I should let you go."
"I'll tell you when it's time to go, woman," I said around a yawn. "What do you have going on this week? I want to hear everything. All the details."
Her lips quirked into an indulgent smile. "I need to see a guy about some data sets," she said. "They've been giving me some trouble."
"I'm a guy," I said, pointing at my chest. "I can help you with data sets. I know all about data sets."
Erin shook her head. "I love you, but the kind of number-crunching I need isn't in your wheelhouse."
I stared at her for a beat. I expected her to laugh or toss out a sharp comment to rebuke those words, but neither came. When I couldn't take it anymore, I said, "You love me?"
She gathered her hair in her hands and then released it, letting the auburn strands fall against her neck and shoulders. "Yeah," she said, her eyebrow arched as if she was challenging me to refuse her affection. Wasn't that what she expected? For every one of the people tasked with caring for her to trample over the tender heart hidden beneath the hard, spiky shell? "I guess I do."
I didn't fall in love with Erin Walsh at first sight. I'd thought I did—oh, Ireallythought I did—but I was wrong about that. I fell in love with her the way seasons slide into each other, one day at a time until you couldn't believe how much had changed when you weren't looking. It was her obscure historical facts, her dares, her unyielding desire to photograph the high-water marks on every seawall and dock she encountered. I fell in love with her smiles and her scars, and that she fought through both and still found a way to share them with me. I fell in love with the sides of herself that she freely offered, and that she let me in when she was in the business of shutting others out. And now, I was falling in love with her all over again because she'd found a way to get here, to the place where she could present her affection in the mosttake it or leave itmanner possible.
"I guess I love you too," I said, giving her a teasing smile. "But promise me this: the next time you say it, you're not nearly as far away."
* * *
Riley:Hey dude. You want to get some food tonight? Sam and Tiel are doing the couple thing and I don't want to be around that shit anyway
Nick:My service is slammed and I'm in surgery until 6. Probably not walking out of here until 8 or 9
Riley:Works for me
