“You’reincredible,” he murmurs. “My incredible, perfect, brave, Este.”
I’m smiling so much it almost hurts, my tears still falling thick and fast. “I’m so happy.”
“Me too, angel. Me too.”
34
NICO
Someone put flowers beside Georgie’s bench.
Not Shay—she always brings carnations. Maybe it was someone in Noelle’s family, or maybe it was a stranger, or?—
“It was my dad,” Este says, noticing the question on my face. “He loves tulips. He says they’re happy flowers.”
She crouches and opens the tote bag she brought, pulling out a tied bunch of bright red poppies, hand-tied with a blue ribbon.
“You remembered,” I say, and she smiles up at me.
“Of course I did. And I figured a little hope wouldn’t go amiss.”
She’s silent as she touches the bench for a moment before brushing off her knees, and she stands up. “It’s beautiful, Nico. What an incredible way to honor her.”
I tug her into my side. “Thank you, angel.”
She peers up at me, uncertainty in her eyes. “Does being here make you feel sad because you miss Georgie, or happy because you feel close to her?”
It should be a simple question, but I’m pretty new toacknowledging my own feelings, and most of the time, they’re just a jumbled mishmash. “Both, I guess. Why?”
Este fidgets with her necklace. “You said we needed to talk. I’m trying to figure out if you brought me here to talk because it already makes you sad, and that means you don’t have to make sad memories somewhere else when you try to end things with me. Or if you brought me here because you wanted to share somewhere special to you when you tell me you don’t want to end things.”
The more time I spend with her, the more I understand why she needs help to switch off. Her brain is a wonderful place, and yet there’s always something whirring around in there. No wonder she’s so exhausted all the time.
“What I’m getting from this is that I should’ve specified I didn’t mean talking about ending things.”
She blows out a long breath. “It would’ve been nice. I’ve been stressing.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” I step toward the bench, tugging her with me until we’re both sitting down, the soft sounds of the reservoir splashing in the background.
“For the record, I was never planning onlettingyou end things,” she says with a shrug. “But it’s good to know I don’t have to worry about it.”
I bring her hand to my face and brush my lips over her palm.
“I wanted to talk to you about the opposite, actually. To see how you feel about staying here. With me.” The words come out a little disjointed. Not because I don’t mean them wholeheartedly, but because I’m not used to asking for things I really want. Things I really care about.
“Nico,” she breathes. Her expression is gentle, and I’m scared to think about it too much because what if this means she’s letting me down gently? What if this means I have this all wrong?
She traces the curve of my lips with her thumb and smiles. “Of course I’m staying. Why would I want to be anywhere else in the world when you’re here?”
Everything around us goes silent as I process what she’s saying. She’s staying. In Wintermore. With me.
“You… I… You really mean it?”
“I really do. I already hired someone to pack up my apartment so I don’t have to go back to Chicago to do it.”
She’s thought about this. She’s planned for this.
Hell, of course she has. This is Este. When she wants something, she makes it happen.
