“Yeah,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly. “It’s nice to converse with an adult every now and again. I’m stuck with Bria and my patients all day.”
“I just thought it’d be less of a hassle if I made my own breakfasts.” Another lie.
“That’s fine. I can respect that. The offer stands, though. I like cooking for two.”
My head spins at his words. I know he doesn’t mean it like it sounds, but I can’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable. He probably used to cook for Isabel.
“Thanks,” I add.
“Anytime.” He gaze flicks over my body, and he looks at me sternly now. “But really, how are you?”
I pick at my nails and look down.
“My ex-boyfriend is engaged to my ex-friend. I’ve been better,” I say, shrugging. “They’re getting married in December. Violet thinks Mia is pregnant. I guess it makes sense.”
I bite my lip to keep from crying. Imagining Dan having a family with Mia is almost unbearable to think about. We were supposed to have that. We even had our future children’s names picked out.
A single tear slips from my eyes and onto my cheeks. I feel Nick stiffen next to me, and a second later he pulls me into him. I cry into his shirt as he hugs me.
Oh my god.
Stop crying, I beg my tear ducts. This is so embarrassing. I’ve cried in front of Violet a few times, and my mom a few times, but never a guy. Not even Dan. I didn’t even think I was so emotional, but I guess suppressing your emotions means they come cascading out any time someone asks how you are. I want to stop, and I feel my whole body tense. But I can’t. It feels so good to be comforted by Nick.
I lose control, and the next thing I know, I’m clutching his shirt with both hands and sobbing into it. He just strokes my back, cocooning his arms around me. Even though this is the most physical contact we’ve ever had, it feels right. Good, even. It feels really fucking good.
He brings his head down and rests it on mine, and my mind screams at me. This is Nick! He’s hugging you! He’s resting his head on top of yours! His arms are around you! I inhale deeply between sobs, and his scent fills my nostrils, burns them. I decide that I really like cinnamon. He gently pulls away as my crying ceases. I jump back and wipe my face with my hands.
“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I mumble, my voice thick from crying. His shirt is spotted from my tears.
“Don’t worry about it, Evianna.” He doesn’t even look down. He just fixes his gaze on mine.
“So much for being 100 percent emotionally stable, huh?” I joke, referring to my first email to him. I look down and chew on my lips to keep from crying more.
He just blows out a loud breath of air and keeps staring at me, concern lining his face.
“Come here,” he says gently. He holds his arms open.
I don’t hesitate. I fall into him, and he rocks me back and forth, bringing his arms all the way around me. He’s so gentle… yet sturdy. He’s solid, warm… we sway to the music.
His hands are on my lower back, and they trail just an inch lower. Suddenly, I’m blushing. For some reason, that small movement sends awareness running through me. Nick is hugging me, and that movement is a silent gesture showing me that this isn’t just a normal employer-employee hug. His hands are burning me on the spot where they rest on my lower back. I’m hyper-aware of them there.
I can feel the solidness of his torso, and I bring my hands around him, too, even though previously they were bound tightly into my chest. I feel him stiffen just a bit, and I turn my head sideways so that my cheek is against his chest. His breathing becomes ragged. Mine does, too. I pull him closer—a minor movement, but it’s enough. He knows. We both know. His hands drop a half inch further, and I have to keep from gasping. My whole body explodes from the shock waves.
What is happening?