With that, he brushed past her up the stairs back to the restaurant. She leaned against the wall, uncomfortably drunk and stewing in self-inflicted humiliation—two familiar sensations that often went hand in hand.
Self-compassion could come tomorrow. Maybe the day after, once the hangover had cleared. Tonight, there was only space for shame, filling her lungs with thick sludge, leaving her struggling to breathe.
There was the distant sound of a toilet flushing, and Merritt composed herself as much as possible before the woman in the bathroom exited, not wanting to invite any more attention.
As soon as she did, though, Merritt’s stomach let out an unpleasant gurgle, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, rushing back into the bathroom just in time to empty her entire dinner into the toilet.
16
Objectively, Niko could admit thathis date with Skylar hadn’t been going great even before he’d kissed Merritt in the bathroom hallway.
It had probably been doomed from the get-go. He’d never liked getting over someone by going after someone else—one, because it usually just made him feel worse, and two, it seemed unfair to the unsuspecting rebound. Plus, there was the nagging feeling that he wasn’t even close to ready to move on from Merritt yet. But what was he supposed to do? Pine for her from a distance, on the off chance she’d change her mind?
He was making too big a deal out of this. There was barely anything to get over. Just a crush and a couple of kisses. Never mind that kissing her felt like his cells were being rearranged.
It was weird, how her rejection had somehow burst a dam of feelings for her he hadn’t wanted to admit he had. They were confusing, mostly built on glimpses of possibility, but it was likeshe’d taken a switchblade to a promising sketch, slashing the canvas to ribbons before a paintbrush had the chance to touch it.
Maybe it would’ve turned out ugly, but at least it would’ve been theirs.
Still, he probably would’ve kept wallowing indefinitely if Simon hadn’t dragged him out to a party where he’d bumped into Skylar again. Their conversation that night had flowed easily enough, but once they were sitting across from each other at Last Chair, it was clear that any chemistry they’d felt was a direct result of the six-pack they’d split. By the time he’d excused himself to the bathroom, Skylar had already been scrolling through her phone for several minutes, barely looking up.
Once he got back, though, there was no hope for recovery. He was so rattled and guilty (plus, he still really needed to pee) that he could barely put a sentence together. He heard her let out an audible sigh of relief when he finally flagged Simon down for the check.
The next morning, he got a series of texts from Merritt. The sight of her name on his phone made his heart thunder in his ears. He tried to hold out as long as he could before looking at it but lasted only about ten seconds.
Hey Niko—I’m so sorry about last night. the way I acted was completely inappropriate. it won’t happen again.
this is why I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get involved. it’s not because of you. you’re wonderful. completely.
I’m sorry.
He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just wrotethanksand put his phone away. As an apology, it wasn’t great, and it only made him more confused about how she felt—though there was no way to spin it as anything but another brush-off.
That was that, then.
So, he did his best to avoid her. He forced himself to wake up for the sixa.m. yoga class he knew she wouldn’t be attending, with the added benefit of missing Skylar, who usually worked the afternoon shift. He put in long hours at work, either at the house, in his workshop, or at the venue where the Mr. Crested Peak pageant would be taking place, gratified to see the transformations, gratified for the way he got home sweaty and exhausted, gratified to pass out the moment his head hit the pillow.
On his weekly call with Yiayia, she chastised him for working too hard, telling him she could hear the fatigue in his voice.
“Go home,” she said in Greek, stern enough to shut down any protests on his end.“Your work will be there tomorrow.”
So he packed up early that night, returning home to find Jo drinking a beer and working on a puzzle at the kitchen table, music playing softly from their Bluetooth speaker.
He stopped short. Even though the song wasn’t familiar, he’d know the voice anywhere.
“Is this her?” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.
“Shit,” Jo said, fumbling for their phone. “Sorry. I thought you’d be out later.”
Niko held up his hand before running it through his hair. “No,” he said. “No, uh, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Jo shot him a sympathetic look, then returned to their puzzle. Niko sat with them for a little, trying to help, a permanent lump lodged in his throat, but he was pretty sure the pieces he was trying to assemble didn’t actually go together, so he soon gave up and went to bed.
He felt haunted by what he’d heard, though. It seemed unbelievable that he’d spent so much time with her, that she dominated his thoughts, and he’d never gone out of his way to listen to her music. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he just didn’t feelcomfortable digging deeper into a past she clearly had complicated feelings about without her consent. It was the same reason he still hadn’t looked her up.
But if they weren’t going to be close anymore, why did it matter?
He opened his music app and navigated to her artist page, her younger face staring back at him, direct and defiant. He picked an album at random, and as soon as the opening notes played, his stomach lurched. Hedidrecognize this song—Helene had played it constantly when they were together. A lot of them, actually.
