My voice pitches close to a shout by the end. Which is so contrary to the controlled person I try to show the world, my face flames with embarrassment. “Crap,” I continue more quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
Nico stares at me for a few seconds. Then he perches on the edge of the bed. He links his pinkie with mine. “It’s okay to get upset. I’m upset—” His jaw sets. Anger flares in his eyes. “No. I’m more than upset. I’m furious.”
“Which is why we need to?—”
“But,” he interrupts. “I want to make sure you’re okay, too.”
“I can work from here. It’s perfectly safe at your condo.”
“It’s not just that.” He hesitates. The veneer of confidence falls from his gaze, exposing a hint of uncertainty. “I guess… I was hoping we could just hang out for a while. You could relax, since you didn’t get to yesterday.”
He has a point. By the time we dealt with things at Fox & Falcon—Nico’s friends and employees searching the area for the shooter, dealing with the police, coordinating secure transportation back here, including a four-car cavalcade—it was already evening and I barely managed a shower before collapsing into bed.
“Yes, I want to work on your case,” he continues. “And I will. This afternoon. But I thought we could do puzzles this morning. Order food. Watch a movie.”
A cautious hope lights in his eyes while he waits for my answer.
My heart pulls again.
Give him a chance,it says.He’s trying. And you know you want to. It’s just your stubbornness holding you back.
“Okay.” Before I can second guess myself, I cover his hand with mine.
Surprise flickers across his face. Then he turns his hand over and laces his fingers between mine.
A feeling of right-ness sweeps through me.
My heart squeezes.
Is it possible I never fully fell out of love with him?
“Okay, Soph.” Nico smiles. “We’ll have a lazy morning. You’ll be glad we did. I promise.”
“Nico. What’s all this?”
At the sound of my voice, Nico spins to face me. He tries to hide his guilty expression but doesn’t quite manage it. “What do you mean?” he asks innocently. “I said I was going to order some food.”
“Some food,” I agree. “I thought that meant sandwiches. Or salad. But this”—I gesture at the dining room table behind him—“doesn’t look likesomefood. It looks like you’re stocking up for the apocalypse.”
Nico glances at the food spread across the table. “I don’t think it’sthatmuch, Sofia.”
“Fine, not the actual apocalypse. But are you expecting us to get snowed in? Is a Nor’easter coming through?”
“I don’t think we’re supposed to get a storm,” he replies. But to verify, he whips out his phone and taps the screen a few times. “Nope. No winter storms. It’s actually supposed to hit fifty by tomorrow.”
As my gaze moves across the table, I count at least thirty takeout containers. With a laugh, I ask, “Where did you order from? Half of Manhattan?”
Because somehow, in the time it took for me to have coffee and take a shower, we now have enough food to host a wedding for fifty. Possibly more.
As Nico starts opening the containers, he replies, “Not even close. This is only four restaurants. I just wanted to make sure I got food you liked.” He removes the lid of one to reveal three different sushi rolls and adds, “I know what you used to like. And the things you’ve made here. But I wasn’t sure?—”
“Ooh, you got a Philadelphia roll?” My interest in teasing him disappears in the face of freshly-made sushi. I lean over Nico’s arm to look at it. “And spicy shrimp?”
He grins. “Yes. Even though I still stand by my claim that Philadelphia rolls aren’trealsushi.”
“Of course they’re real.” I snatch up a piece of sushi and pop it into my mouth. “I wouldn’t be eating it if it wasn’t, would I?”
Nico’s smile doesn’t falter. “Sushi isn’t supposed to have cream cheese in it.” He continues opening up the cartons, revealing more sushi, nori chips with dip, and an enormous serving of miso soup.
