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ADAM
I check the time on my phone. It’s half past five, so either Nick is running exceptionally late or he called in sick for his Saturday night shift at the pizzeria. I’ve been sitting in the coffee shop across the street for the past hour, hoping to catch him before he starts work.
And say what?
The question has been rolling around my brain since I talked to his friend Dede earlier. She was cold and aloof as I repeated my story about Liam. I think she was shocked that I’d taken the time to visit her pizzeria and have a chat about Nick. For the first few minutes, she was vague and hostile, answering questions with nods or muttered one-word replies. But when I mentioned that Liam was leaving for rehab in California, her tone softened a bit. Apparently, Dede’s sister struggles with addiction, so the subject was more than a little familiar. After we went back and forth with a few stories about how drugs and alcohol have impacted our friends and family members, Dede told me that Nick was working for her that night.
“I can tell him that you stopped by,” she’d added. “Although he can be a stubborn man. Once he makes up his mind about something, it’s usually a done deal.”
“Maybe so,” I’d replied. “But I’m not walking away with at least making an attempt to talk.”
She’d smiled and wished me good luck. After that, I went out and wandered around the Village, gazing blankly into shop windows and strolling along the crowded sidewalks until returning to the coffee shop across from the pizzeria.
And say what?
I don’t owe Nick and apology. I did nothing wrong. Based on what I learned from Dede, he’s so gun-shy about dating and romance and relationships that seeing me with Liam was enough to send him scrambling in the opposite direction.
And say what?
I’m still trying to answer the question when I see Nick drift around the corner and head for the pizza place. He’s walking slowly enough that I make it out the door of the coffee shop and across the street before he gets to work. When I call his name, his stride slows, but he doesn’t stop.
“I can’t talk now,” he says.
I smile. “I can see that you’re in a hurry. Maybe just two minutes?”
He bites the inside of one cheek as he glares at me. “How’d you find me?”
“From when we talked yesterday,” I answer. “I didn’t have your cell number, but I looked at the incoming call logs on my phone.”
A short-lived smile comes and goes. “Smart,” Nick says. “I didn’t think of that.”
“So you’re going to work?” I motion toward the awning above Dede’s storefront. “Vegan pizzas, huh?”
He leers at me angrily. “Did you want something?”
I jam both hands into my pockets, feeling apprehensive and exposed as I realize that Nick isn’t exactly greeting me with open arms.
“I thought you said that you’re an artist,” I say.
Nick’s eyes taper into a cold glare. “And I thought you told me that you’re not dating anybody.”
“That’s true,” I say. “There’s no one in my life at the moment. I’ve been single for the past six months.”
He smiles. “More like the past six hours maybe.”
I understand his anger better than he knows. Although we skimmed over the subject of betrayal and heartbreak the other night, I’ve been hurt more than once. And although people look at me and think that I’m somehow impervious to pain because I’m tall and brawny, invisible scar tissue twines around my heart just as I know it envelopes Nick’s.
“That wasn’t my boyfriend,” I say, cutting to the chase instead of easing into the explanation. “It was my nephew.”
He gradually slows to a stop. “Sure, that sounds reasonable,” he says, turning to face me. “And I’ll bet that some guys would totally believe you. But I’ve been burned before and—”
“Hold on,” I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m telling you the truth. His name is Liam. He’s my sister’s son. After a long run of bad luck and bad choices, he’s decided to try rehab. He came by unannounced last night to tell me the news.”
My heart is thudding in my chest when I finish. I suddenly feel like I’ve been dropped into a surreal dream; as if I can see Nick and me from overhead while still standing right next to him on the sidewalk. There are a few seconds of silence when I hope that one of his dazzling, infectious smiles will appear, but the hope is flattened by reality.
“Yeah,” Nick grumbles. “Well, good luck to your nephew. I’m already late for work, so I gotta run.”
Before he starts to walk away, I tighten my grip on his hand. “Just one more thing,” I say. “I’ll respect whatever you decide. But what I just told you is the truth. I can’t do or say anything more than that. I just wanted a chance to tell you in person so there wouldn’t be any question about what happened or who you saw me with last night.”
“Thanks,” he says, looking at my hand. “But I really need to clock in for work.”
“Sure, I get it.” I loosen my grip and his hand falls away. “But if you change your mind later, I’ll be home. Maybe we can finally go out to dinner and just talk.”