After cleaning ourselves up, Nick dragged me home with him to Cambridge. He didn't ask what happened or why I was giving everyone the most vile scowls in my long history of scowling, and that suited me well enough.
But then he deposited me on a stool at his kitchen island, gestured to his wife, and said, "This is a problem."
Erin looked me over with a concerned frown. "I can see that."
He gathered her up in a tight hug and whispered something to her I couldn't hear while he rubbed her back. I couldn't watch. I had to look away. I didn't get to hug anyone when I came home at night and I didn't get to glance down at a silky blouse like it was something marvelous and I didn't get to have secret conversations in the middle of the kitchen. All I had was a blanket on my sofa that was reasonably cozy and a sound system that would tell me how long to bake a potato and whether the Lakers were playing tonight.
To Erin, Nick said, "I'm going to get dinner started. All he's done is complain about the wind—"
"It's very cold," I cried. "It's dark at two in the afternoon and no one pays any attention to the wind chill."
"—but I have to believe you're right about everything. It has to be. I've never seen this level"—Nick gave me a quick study—"before. I'm gonna need you to dig deep into your toolbox to fix him."
I folded my arms on the countertop and pillowed my head there. "What are you right about this time, Walsh?"
"Something happened between you and Sara," she said. "Something that's hurting your heart right now."
I nodded. No reason to dance around the truth. "I fell in love with her. I asked her to make a choice. She's not ready. That's it. That's all it is."
"When did this happen, Sebastian?" Erin asked. "There was the time I saw you two together here, but when did it start?"
"About two months ago," I said, "and also two years ago. I just—I don't know. It's over, so the timeline doesn't matter."
"No, no. I mean, when did these issues come between you?" she asked as she opened the refrigerator. She gestured to a bottle of beer and I nodded. I hadn't tried drowning my problems yet. That could be a fine solution.
"It started last week in Jamaica and then it took a turn for the worse Monday morning," I said. "And here I am now, in top fighting shape."
"Shap went to Jamaica with you?" Nick asked. He popped the top on the beer and slid it across the island to me.
"Yeah, but also no. It's complicated. She was there for a conference," I said. "We stayed at the same resort. We had some really great days and I got to tell her dad he's a dick, but she isn't ready for this to be more than—" I blew out a long breath. "Whatever. My life basically imploded. It's cool."
Nick grinned at Erin. "I told you it was a bad idea to try setting her up with Malakai."
"Let it go, Nick," she said with a laugh.
"That one fuckin' hurt," I admitted. "Just do me a favor and don't set her up in front of me anymore, okay? I know she's going to be around and I gotta deal with that, but don't blindside me. Also, it would be great if we could keep this between the three of us. We cannot have anyone taking sides or bringing this up to her in any way. Not only would she reach down my throat and rip out my organs, she'd hate me for putting her in a situation where she has to talk to people."
"That's not a problem at all," Nick said. "Hartshorn isn't going to notice a damn thing. He's got his hands full these days. I know Shap's close with Emmerling, but Emmerling will throw down with anyone who crosses her. No one will make it awkward for Shap, I promise."
"If you want to invite her over here, you have to be chill about it. Okay? You can't call up the squad and get everyone in on the peer pressure. It stresses her the fuck out. She's not going to tell you that, but she blew up my chest cavity so I have no filter left in me." I pointed the beer bottle at Erin. "And if you want to hang out with her, ask her to go shopping or out for a walk or whatever women do together. Keep it small. Not just the big dinner parties."
Erin touched her fingers to my forearm. She was cold from holding the bottle of sparkling water she'd plucked from the fridge. "Slow down for a sec, okay? You're spinning out."
"If I don't tell you this now, when am I going to tell you? This is my chance, Erin. I'm falling the fuck apart, so might as well let it all go."
"Slow down. You are not falling apart. You are not caving in on yourself. " She held up a warning hand and leveled me with a stare over the rims of her glasses. "Let's put this in perspective. Let's think about it and pull all the way back, out of this single unpleasant moment, out of this day, out of this place and time."
I gulped the beer. "Are you going to tell me something ridiculous and obscure now? Will it kick my ass?"
She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "You are as good as impossible."
"Yeah, I know. I get that frequently. Nick's said it to me a million times," I replied.
"No. That's not what I mean," she said. "You are nearly impossible." She brought her hands to her chest. "I am nearly impossible. All of us, nearly impossible. That we are alive right here, right now, is such a practical impossibility that it makes everything else seem insignificant. When I pull all the way back and I gather up the contents of this universe as we comprehend it, I see the existence of us—and our great struggles in that existence—as wild accidents. There are entire galaxies forming and dying beyond us, all while we are here in this moment, stumbling around in these fleshy, emotion-filled bodies. We are grains of sand, we are accidents, we are ridiculous miracles—and this is the one, outrageously impossible existence we get." She twisted the bottle of water open. "So, we're not going to let one hiccup get in our way. We're not going to let it end us. We're not going to stop stumbling around. We're not going to stop feeling everything. And we're not going to forget that we are impossible in thebestway."
I stared at her for a minute as her words settled over me. "Yeah. Okay."
"That wasn't enough," she murmured.
