“So,” he says, “not to sound like a total psycho, but I missed you the last couple weeks.”
The words land with a little more weight than I expect. I open my mouth to answer, but all I have are excuses.
“I just needed a little space to reset after the trial,” I say, not quite meeting his eyes. “And then there was the conference, and—”
I trail off, feeling a pang of guilt and the impulse to apologize, but Nash is already smiling, softening the air between us.
“It’s cool,” he says, and the words land like a hand on my knee, steadying. “I just like hanging out with you.”
He leans back, tilting his head to look at the deepening sky.
“I like hanging out with you too.”
At that admission, I feel my chest warm, and all I can do is smile at him.
We hear a crowd of people behind and turn to see everyone gathering to watch the fireworks.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I nod my head, and we join the others as the first fireworks shoot off.
They come in bright, sequential bursts: flashes of red, then blue, then a fizzing gold that hangs over the water before falling. People cheer, some kids scream with delight, and for a moment, there’s a silence while everyone waits for the next round. I stand at the edge of the crowd, but close enough to feel the thump of the explosions in my chest.
To my right, Nash is a silhouette, hands in his pockets, face to the sky. The bursts light his face. He glances at me, and I can tell he wants to put his arm around my waist, but doesn’t, and it’s that hesitation that sends a tiny loss spiraling down my spine.
I look left and James is there, almost close enough to touch, a faint outline in the darkness. He stands with the partners, hands clasped loosely in front of him, posture so rigid he might as well be another post in the deck railing. His eyes are up, but I know from the line of his jaw that he’s aware of me, that he’s clocked my every movement since I stepped onto the lawn.
For a minute, the world compresses to this small wedge of night. Nash on my right. James on my left. And I am the negative space between them, filled with a sudden loneliness.
The fireworks continue to explode in the sky, but inside me, it’s just static silence.
How is it possible to stand between two men who have seen me undone, who have rewritten the geography of my body and my rules of engagement, and still feel more alone than I ever have in my life?
I’m unraveling.
When the finale comes, it’s a grand display of gold and electric blue. I close my eyes against the radiance, feeling the noise in my bones. When the last fireworks fade, the quiet returns, like the world is holding its breath.
I stand there, suspended between Nash and James, unsure which direction to lean.
The crowd disperses, parents wrestling damp children into towels, partners retreating inside. The lake glows in the moonlight, smoke drifting across the surface in slow, painterly wisps.
And I am left utterly alone.
Chapter 25
When I finally drag myself through my front door, Salem is waiting for me on the couch, two green eyes piercing through the dark of my apartment. I close the door, and he darts over to me, rubbing his head against my ankles, meowing louder than I’ve ever heard him. The apartment is still, the only movement the slow turn of the ceiling fan and the swish of Salem’s tail as he circles and circles and circles.
I drop my bag on the kitchen island and open the fridge out of reflex. Nothing but half a bottle of white wine, three string cheeses, and a carton of eggs. I need to buy groceries.
I settle for a string cheese and finish the wine straight from the bottle, standing in the fluorescent glare with the fridge door open.
Eventually, I pick up my phone, scanning the notifications that have amassed during my drive home. There are four new texts from Mina, one from my mother reminding me not to drink and drive tonight, and a single message from Nash.
The lock screen shows only the first line.
Trouble
Wish I could have held you for the fireworks
