Nico looks at me for a long moment. Then he kneels and puts his hand on my knee.
Despite my mixed-up feelings, my skin tingles where he touches me.
“Soph.” His voice gentles. “I’m sorry.”
“About what?” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry you’re scared,” he replies. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
The unexpected kindness makes my tears fall faster. Which in turn makes me feel worse, crying in front of Nico, in the lobby of his building, no less, where anyone can see me falling apart…
“Ah, Soph.” Nico leans forward and carefully wraps his arms around me. “Don’t cry. Please. Don’t cry.”
I don’t want to cry. But I can’t seem to stop.
“I don’t cry,” I mutter. “I hate crying. It doesn’t help.”
“It’s okay to cry sometimes,” he soothes. And then he strokes my hair.
It’s too much—Nico holding me, being so kind, touching my hair… I can’t stop the memories from flooding in. I can’t stop remembering the good times, when I really thought he loved me. When I thought we would spend our lives together.
Naive? Probably. But I believed it back then.
“Come back upstairs,” he says quietly. “Please. We can talk for real this time. I’ll listen instead of being a jerk and yelling at you. Or if you don’t want to talk, you can just stay in the bedroom. Just don’t leave.”
He pulls his head back to meet my gaze. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since high school. “Please,” he repeats. “It’s safe, at least. I don’t want you going out there, alone, where anything could happen. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt again.”
The stubborn, angry part of me wants to refuse.
But I feel safe with Nico. He protected me when he didn’t have to. And though I know I’m just opening myself up for even more heartbreak, I know going back to his condo is the smartest decision.
On a soft sigh, I reply, “Okay. I’ll come back.”
He releases a heavy breath. “Okay. Good.” Then, as if he’s afraid if he waits I might change my mind, he quickly stands and reaches out his hand. “Come on, let’s get back upstairs. Okay?”
I could refuse his hand. But I’m mentally exhausted, to the point where doing anything feels like too much effort. So I accept his help, allowing Nico to pull me to my feet. Once I’m up, he moves his hand to my back, supporting me. “Just let me help,” he murmurs. “I know you’re tired. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“It doesn’t,” I mutter.
Or does it?
Because I know I feel a lot safer with his big hand spanning my lower back. With his strong, reassuring presence right beside me, protecting me as we make our way to the elevator.
And I know how my body feels, having him touch me. Like long-dormant sensations are finally waking.
It doesn’t have to mean anything,I remind myself as we walk back into his condo. I’m just coming back here because it’s safer. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven Nico. It doesn’t mean I’m not still angry with him.
Once the door shuts behind us, Nico locks it securely and resets the alarm system. Then he leads me into the living room and over to the couch, guiding my unresisting body down onto it. “I’m just going to put your suitcase back in the bedroom,” he says. “And then I thought… Well. If you’re up for it, we could talk.”
“Talk?” I ask. A hint of bitterness tinges my voice. “Or accuse me of lying again?”
His jaw tightens. “Talk. No accusations, this time.”
I could say no. Say I’m too tired and go hide in the bedroom. But that would only be delaying the inevitable. “Fine. We can talk.”
He gives me a thin smile. “Okay.” Then he grabs my suitcase and hurries down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Seconds later, he returns. When he sees me still sitting in the same place on the couch, relief flickers in his eyes again.
“Do you want something to eat first?” he asks. “Since I messed up dinner?”
