Another thing I loved about Nico was his vulnerability. He never let anyone see it but me. To everyone else, he was confident. Athletic. Smart. The guy everyone wanted to be. But when we were alone, he’d let his walls down. He’d admit his worries about not being good enough. About never living up to the standards his father set. About making his father angry because he wanted to forge his own path instead of following the one his father set for him.
It was easy to fall in love with Nico back then.
And it’s hard not to want to forgive him now.
That logical voice in my head—she’s very annoying at times—reminds me that Nico could just hurt me again. That the old saying,Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, holds true.
It would be safer to close myself off to him. I know it.
But then Nico does something to remind me of that boy I loved.
He remembered my favorite books. He made my coffee just the way I like best. He dropped everything to be by my side at the hospital, even after we hadn’t spoken in years. He faced his father, which can’t have been an easy thing, and forced him to tell the truth.
And last night, he let his walls down for me. While Nico told me what happened with his father, I saw the anger and devastation in his eyes. The guilt. The desperation to make things right.
So, yeah. It’s hard to close off my heart to him, even if common sense tells me I should.
“Breakfast?” Nico asks. His brows arch up. “Are you hungry?” He gestures with a whisk at the bowl on the counter in front of him. “I started making up some eggs, with cheese the way you always liked. But if you’re not feeling like eggs, I could make more avocado toast. Or… I might have ingredients forpancakes. I haven’t made them in a long time—” He stops and makes a sheepish face. “Okay. I only made pancakes once. But how hard can it be?”
I blink at him, wondering if I’m possibly experiencing delayed hallucinations.
Why is Nico in the kitchen, cooking, instead of holed away in his office?
Why is he offering to make breakfast for me?
And why is he still wearing the same athletic shorts and T-shirt he sleeps in, instead of the suits he’s worn even while working from home?
As my gaze drifts across the expanse of his chest and down his tattooed arms, more questions arise.
Why does he look so goodin that shirt?
Does he lift weights every day to get his muscles that big?
When did he get those tattoos? And are they just on his arms and hands, or everywhere?
“Sofia?” Nico sets the whisk into the bowl and rounds the island, heading towards me. His hesitant smile fades, and a worried expression replaces it. “Is something wrong? Are you feeling sick? Hurting? Or—” His brow furrows. “Have you changed your mind about staying?”
“Um. No.” I tear my gaze from the intricate design inked on his forearm. “I was just… surprised.”
“Surprised? Why?”
“Well.” As he moves closer to me, I catch a hint of cedar and citrus. It’s woodsy but fresh, the scent reminiscent of walking through the woods on a sunny day. Which of course—because my stupid brain is still stuck in the past—reminds me of the times Nico and I would head upstate for the day, exploring the Catskills or the Adirondacks.
“Well?” he asks. “Well, what?”
Stop thinking about how he smells, I tell myself.Stop thinking about his tattoos and how ridiculously big his biceps are. Just because Nico is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen doesn’t negate what he did. It doesn’t make me less mad at him.
Taking a step back from him, I try to ignore the flicker of hurt in his eyes. “I thought you’d be working already.”
Nico’s gaze lingers on my face, carefully assessing. “Are you sure that’s all? Because if something’s wrong?—”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Aside from being attacked twice, living with my ex, hearing confirmation after eighteen years that Nico’s father lied, and feeling completely unsettled by Nico’s appearance. But other than that, everything’s great.
He inspects me for another second, then turns and returns to the island. Picking up the whisk again, he briskly stirs the mixture in the bowl. “I’m taking the day off,” he replies. “So I thought I’d make breakfast.”
“You’re taking the day off? Why?”
