Chapter Twenty-Two
Amanda didn’t sleep well, her overloaded heart and brain making her restless. Finally, she drifted into deeper sleep around 4 AM for a few hours straight; exhaustion had won out. She woke just after nine. The incredible sex last night was surely a factor in the deeper sleep, along with knowing she had nowhere to be today. Nick was fine now. He didn’t need her to take care of him anymore, and Myles wouldn’t be out of the hospital for weeks. As Charles had said, for the next few weeks, her time was her own, and he’d insisted on paying her for two weeks of her time off as if she were a corporate salaried employee. She appreciated his generosity. She had enough in her savings that even if she didn’t go back to working with Myles for a whole month, she could lay low and afford it. Some time off would be great.
The feeling of freedom, the idea of not adhering to a daily schedule, was so alien. She hadn’t had a real vacation in six months. When Myles had had a good streak, Charles had insisted she take two weeks off, fully paid. The first week, she’d stayed home and just lazed around, but the second week, she’d gone to a resort in Jamaica with Roni and Steph. It’d been Roni’s idea, of course, and they’d gotten the plans together in record time. The best trip of her life, it’d been the only time she’d ever gone away without family. She was thirty-two, for God’s sake—she needed to go places, do more. She needed more of a life.
She lay in bed and started thinking about where she could go next week on such short notice, and not spend a bundle doing it. Maybe up to the Cape? Out east to a spa on the tip of Long Island? Just go to the beach every day? The first week of June was gorgeous weather-wise, holding infinite possibilities close to home. She wondered if her friends would be able to get away for a few days. She knew she’d need them.
Because once Nick was back in Miami, only six days from now, she’d need to get away from here for a bit to shake him off. She wondered if that was even possible. She doubted it. She loved him, and holding that back had proved too much over the past few days. At least when they were back to their separate lives, she could pine in peace.
Deciding to text her friends, she rolled over to reach for her cell phone and turn it on. Sunlight dappled the walls as a soft, warm breeze blew in from the window. Soon she’d need the air-conditioning, would no longer be able to keep the window open.
But a waiting text from Nick made her stomach flip. It’s 3 a.m. I rolled over & the bed is empty. Why’d you leave? Not happy here. Please call me when you see this.
She sighed deeply and decided to take a shower before responding. But as she got out of her bed and stretched, the buzzer from the lobby went off. Her whole body tightened. She wasn’t expecting anyone . . . so she knew who it had to be.
She padded out to the living room. Gretchen wasn’t home, so she clicked the intercom. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Nick’s voice sounded tight. “Can I come up, please?”
She pressed the button to let him through and ran to the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth. Her reflection in the mirror made her wince. She wrangled her messy hair into a ponytail just as he knocked on the door. She looked down at the thin lavender camisole and matching sleep shorts she’d worn to bed. Clearly, she wasn’t ready for company, but she opened the door to Nick standing there, tension radiating off him. He wore a white T-shirt, navy athletic shorts, and a stormy look on his face.
“I thought you can’t drive,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I took an Uber,” he said tersely. “The better question is, what are you doing here, instead of being in my room? Without anything but a good-bye note on your pillow?”
She’d put off having this talk as long as she could. Apparently, it was going to happen now. Steeling herself, she moved aside and said, “Come in.”
She’d barely closed and locked the door when he said, “Why’d you leave?”
She turned to him with a sigh. “I needed to.”
“Why? Last night was . . . different. It felt like . . .” His voice softened as he stared down at her. “It was beautiful, Amanda. We were beautiful together. It was more than just sex, and you know it.”
Realizing he’d felt it too made her insides start to shake.
He looked at her, imploring, earnest. “I’ve never felt that completely connected, body and soul, to anyone in my whole life. I fell asleep at peace in a way I never have before. Because of you.” His dark eyes flashed. “And when I woke up, you were gone.”
Her heart started pounding in heavier thumps. He’d felt what she’d felt. She hadn’t imagined it or built it up out of silly romantic wishing. Maybe—
“Isn’t it bad enough I have to leave in a few days?” he asked. “Why are you cutting our limited time together even shorter?” He stopped and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t mean to sound pissy, but I’m tired. I didn’t sleep well after I saw you were gone. I laid there with my brain going, trying to figure out why you left.”
She swallowed what she’d been about to say. He was leaving. To draw this out now would be even more painful. It had to end. Why not now? End it clean, let him go, cry in private.
“I’ll tell you something else I thought about, lying there in the dark and thinking about you. Before the surgery, that night we argued, you implied that anything I feel for you isn’t real. That because everything’s kind of crazy right now—finding out I’m a Harrison, getting to know Myles, the surgery—that I’m just all swept up in emotion.”
“Aren’t you?” she said. It came out harsher than she’d intended.
“Hell no!” he snapped. “I know what I feel is real. Don’t tell me how I feel, goddamn it—you’re not in my head. Christ, that pissed me off then, and it does now too.”
Her stomach roiled as she stood there, trying to stay strong under his withering, tangible frustration. You’re leaving, she chanted to herself. You’re leaving. This is hopeless.
“Last night . . .” He stared at her balefully. “That was real, Amanda. As real as it gets. Real and intense and fucking beautiful.” His eyes pinned hers, and she felt caught. “Tell me you didn’t feel it too and I’ll leave right now, and it’ll be over. Because if you tell me that, you’re a goddamn liar.”
She drew a shaky breath and stared back, unable to think of a clever response.
“You can’t, can you?” he murmured. His dark, heated gaze seared through her. “Because you felt it too. And it scares the hell out of you. That’s why you left last night.”
“You’re leaving in a few days,” she whispered hotly.
“Yeah, and it sucks, but—”
“But nothing! It doesn’t matter what we felt last night, what we feel now.” Panic rose up in her throat. “This wasn’t supposed to—we weren’t supposed to—” Her hands fluttered at her chest, rubbing to ease the sudden tightness there. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do what?”
“Have feelings for you. Want this. Any of it.”
He moved closer, watching her, his voice low. “Why not?”
“You’re leaving,” she ground out. “You live in Florida. I live in New York. End of story. Game over.”
“It doesn’t have to be the end of the story.”
She stilled, confused, blinking at him.
“Come with me,” he said. “Move to Miami and be with me.”