He sits there quietly and stares at his hands.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” he says, and he looks up at me. His eyes are so… sad. Like he’s been holding back tears for a long time, and the pain has etched itself onto his face permanently. In fact, his whole body looks defeated, tired, and just generally unhappy. I resist the urge to go over and hug him. I think about the book on his nightstand, and my heart sinks.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I understand. And it won’t happen again.”
He nods and sips his coffee. I think I see his eyes flick over my body, but I’m not sure. I blush anyways.
As I sip my coffee, I pretend to check my phone. Nick is just sitting there, and he looks like he’s about to say something. I see him gesticulate with his hands a few times, but nothing comes out. Finally, he speaks.
“From Seattle?”
“Yes. My parents live in Mount Baker, and I went to UW for undergrad and graduate school. I used to live in the city, but I’ve been living with my parents since graduation.” I don’t mention the reason.
“I see.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“Yep. Seattle born and raised.”
“Oh, cool. Do your parents live nearby?”
“Nah. They retired to Hawaii years ago. Said the cold was aging them.” He chuckles. It’s obvious he loves and misses them. “That’s why I love having Cecelia around.”
“I bet. So you’re a doctor?”
“Yeah. Though I’m thinking of closing my practice. I’d like to transition into a teaching hospital in the next couple of years. Right now I’m testing the waters in Portland one day a week. Cecelia told you that, right?”
“Yes, that you stay overnight once a week.”
“Just until the end of the semester in December.” He looks at me, and his eyes are unwavering. “So, English major,” he says, referring to my embarrassing emails. In fact, almost every single encounter I’ve had with Nick has been embarrassing, now that I think about it. “What do you want to do with your life?”
I stare at him. Is this a trick question?
“Umm,” I answer, fishing for the right words.
He just sits there and watches me. I feel uncomfortable. Is he testing me?
“I know you don’t want to be a nanny forever,” he says, relaxing his face a bit. The furrowed brow is gone. Now he just looks interested.
“Oh. I haven’t really thought about it. Teaching English overseas sounds cool. I had a friend—or, an ex-friend, do that for a year. She seemed to really like it.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t really want to talk about her.
“Huh,” he says. “You’d be good at that.” He adjusts himself in his seat so that he’s facing me squarely. “Ex-friend? Does this ex-friend have anything to do with your ex-boyfriend?” My expression falters. Nick must notice, because he clears his throat and corrects himself. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry. That was extremely nosy.”
I stare down at my feet.
“It’s fine. It’s just still a little raw.”
“How long ago?” he asks.
Was I really going to throw a pity party for myself with the man who lost his wife and son in a car wreck? My breakup was nothing compared to that.
“Three months ago.”
“Ouch,” he says, and he winces.
“It’s okay. I’m fine, really,” I explain. “It could’ve been worse.”
He shrugs.
“I suppose.”
“Trust me. It’s nothing compared to…” I trail off. His face registers my words, and I see him nod once.
“Everyone’s allowed to grieve, Evianna. Just because I may seem worse off doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to grieve around me. You can’t judge someone else’s grief—we’re all grieving something, and everyone has the right to be sad about whatever the hell they want to be sad about. When I asked about your recent breakup, don’t feel the need to downplay it because of Isabel and Matthias.”