Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Alex
“It’s fucking busy as hell here,” Nico mumbles, his shoulders tightening more as he slams to a stop to let a wave of loud, rowdy college athletes pass by us. My hand finds his lower back, and he leans into my touch.
The airport is definitely much busier now than when we arrived here in San Jose on Friday evening, and though he is handling himself, I probably should have expected that traveling today would be harder on him.
“We’re almost to the gate,” I reassure him, and though he nods stiffly, I can feel him shaking. “You’re doing great. We’ll find a quiet place to sit until it’s time to board. Okay?”
He nods again, and we start walking. I stay just behind him, my hand on his back, and I hope that helps him feel at least a little safer.
He hesitates and starts and stops a few more times, clenching his hand into a fist when another person cuts in front of him, almost bumping into his bad shoulder.
“Can’t they watch where they’re going? Jesus,” he complains, and then he grimaces. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just not feeling good. Wh-which gate again?”
“Nineteen. Just ahead on the left there. And you’re fine. You’re doing great.”
“I’m not doing great. I’m gonna puke.” He glances back at me over his shoulder, frowning.
I give him a small smile and rub my hand up and down his back. “Come on,” I say, tipping my head toward the gate. “There’s plenty of seats over by the window. It’s quieter over there.”
He swallows and nods, then starts walking. Again.
A moment later, he drops his backpack on the floor next to one of the open seats along the window and nearly collapses into the closest chair.
With a groan, he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, which is a bit awkward with his arm back in the sling.
I take the seat next to him, and he immediately falls into me, his arm stretching out across my midsection.
“It’s better over here, yeah?” I rub his back gently, and he nods into me, though he doesn’t otherwise respond.
So I start talking quietly, telling him all of the things about the tour I had yesterday at Stanford that I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.
He listens, and gradually, his shoulders loosen up and he relaxes. At least a little.
We fall into silence again after a few more minutes, but it’s a comfortable silence. He’s lifted his eyes and is looking around, watching people walk past, his expression taut.
“I hate that I’m like this,” he says finally, and he shifts a bit to sit up more. I start to protest, but he shakes his head. “You being here with me, though, it makes everything tolerable. Or, I mean, mostly. Sometimes.” I don’t even say anything and he’s rolling his eyes at me. “Shut up.”
I laugh, and he does too. Then he leans against me again. “For what it’s worth,” I say, “I’m extremely proud of you for everything you’ve done this weekend.”
He looks up at me, arching his eyebrows. “Everything was nearly impossible. And it made me so exhausted.”
“I know. I had to wake you up this morning, remember? You almost took my head off.”
He swats at my chest. “Did not.”
“It wasn’t safe in the hotel room until you’d had at least two cups of coffee.”
He groans at my tease and rolls his eyes.
“Anyway, as I was saying . . .” I slip my arm around his shoulders and squeeze gently. “I’m proud of you, and I’m glad I was here to support you. I want to . . . always be here to support you.”
His chest rises and falls slowly, like he’s taking a careful breath, and then he nods. “I want that, too.”
My heart stutters, and I close my eyes and rest my cheek against the top of his head. “So I guess you’re stuck with me, then.”
“Poor me.”
I laugh and hug him to me more, and I hope he’s feeling the same things I am—warmth, love, certainty. It’s such a different feeling than what I had right at the beginning of summer break, when I was having to seriously face the possibility of leaving him behind.
“I don’t think I could have done it,” I blurt out, and it’s only when he straightens up a bit to look at me, confusion in his expression, that I realize he hadn’t heard the whole of my thoughts.
“Done what?”
I frown and drop my eyes to where my hand now rests on his forearm. “I don’t think I could have left Nebraska without you.”
“Alex—”
“I’d have rather stayed and gone to UNO.”
“No—”
“I need you, too, you know.” I lift my eyes, and he’s shaking his head, his jaw clenched. “I need you, too, Nico,” I repeat.
He holds my gaze, a million different emotions flickering in his gorgeous green eyes. It’s probably several seconds before he purses his lips and ducks his chin, his cheeks turning pink. Then he squeezes me a little and mumbles, “Hopefully Vera calls soon.”
I squeeze him back, and when his head settles on my chest again, my heart soars. He’s accepted it—that I need him, too—and he wants our future as much as I do.
It’s progress. All of it. Him even being here, in this position—waiting on a phone call about a job he’s got, sitting having a normal conversation at a super busy airport, doing all of these things he maybe never thought he could do because he never believed in himself—it’s huge progress.
I glance toward our gate, where they’re just starting to board the first groups of priority passengers. No one’s paying attention to us, and so I lift my hand to touch his chin. He tilts his head back, and when our eyes meet, he smiles.
Warm fuzziness tickles through me. I bend down and press a brief kiss to his lips, and when I straighten back up, his eyes are gleaming.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He bites at his lower lip. “I love you, too.”
He rests his head against my chest again and closes his eyes.
Things get louder and a little more chaotic around us as they call the next group to board, and then the next.
He keeps his eyes closed, his arm resting on my midsection and his breathing tightly controlled, though I can feel the tension creeping back into his shoulders.
Finally, after another fifteen minutes or so, they call our group.
Together, we stand and gather our things, then line up behind a mom trying to wrangle her three young children.
Several others step into the line behind us, and I rest my hand on Nico’s back to reassure him when I see him tense up even more, his hand balling into a fist. That seems to help enough, though, because he twists his head to look up at me, trying for a small smile.
He seems like he’s just about to say something when he suddenly stops, his eyes wide.
He turns toward me, stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone—which is buzzing with an incoming call.
“Shit, it’s her,” he says, staring at the phone as all the color drains from his face.
The line starts to move, and I set my hands on his shoulders—gently—and move us out of the way, motioning to the people behind us to go on ahead.
He glances up at me, and I nod. “Answer. It’ll be good news. I’m sure.”
He looks like he’s about to puke, but he nods too and then reaches up and swipes to answer the phone call. His eyes drop to the floor. “Hello?”
I try not to eavesdrop, and all I get are mostly one-word, stilted responses from him anyway.
“Yes . . . Okay . . . Yeah, that’s right . . . Okay.” He lifts his eyes, but I still can’t read his expression. “Yeah.” He looks right at me and nods, and the smallest hint of a smile flickers on his lips. “September 15 . . . Yes . . . Yes.”
My heart bursts with joy as he nods again, then closes his eyes.
“Thank you, Vera. I’m—I’m looking forward to it . . . Yeah, we’re at the airport right now . . . Me too . . . Thank you again . . . Yeah. Goodbye.”
Nico ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket.
He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sharp breath, and as he glances up at me again, shaking his head, I see the disbelief in his eyes.
His gaze darts toward the gate for half a second, where the last few people are boarding the plane.
Then he looks back at me, still shaking his head, and he bites his lip as his head shake turns into a nod.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Y-yeah. Yeah, she . . . she just offered me the job. It’s real. I-I can’t believe it.”
My duffle bag drops to the ground as I throw my arms around him and pull him in for a hug, burying my head in his hair. “I’m so proud of you,” I murmur against him. I’m trembling, and I can feel he is too.
He returns my hug, sliding his arms around my waist, and then he’s laughing—shaking and laughing and grinning up at me. He reaches up with his good hand and hooks his fingers around my neck, then tugs me down for a kiss, right there in the middle of the airport.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing hard. “I can’t believe it,” he repeats, shaking his head again. “She says she thinks I’m going to be perfect for the job, and she wishes I could start sooner.”
More pride swells up in my chest, and I pull him back in for another hug. “You did it. You freaking did it.”
He nods into me, holding me as tightly as I’m holding him. “I did.”
As much as I want to sit here in this moment with him for a little bit longer, the last call for boarding for the first leg of our flight comes over the loudspeaker, and Nico steps back, glancing toward the gate.
The line’s gone now, and the airline’s staff is standing at the podium right near the doors to the jet bridge, watching us.
“Let’s go home?” he says, turning back to me. His face breaks out into a huge grin again. “And then we’ll be back here in two months.”
He’s beautiful, especially with that smile on his lips and all that hope in his eyes.
I nod. “Yeah, let’s go.”
I bend over to grab my bag, and he waits for me, then takes my hand.
Our fingers intertwine in a way that makes my heart feel full and happy and content.
And I have the silly thought that maybe there’s nothing more perfect in the whole world than the way our hands fit together.
I smile and press a kiss to his knuckles, and he grins back.
“Ready?” he asks, tipping his head toward the gate.
“Yeah.”
He squeezes my hand, and I think it again—how perfect this is, the two of us, together. He must see me blushing, because he bumps me with his shoulder.
“Stop thinking naughty thoughts,” he whispers, “or it’s gonna be a really long day.”
I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t—”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he cuts in, and then he winks at me, lets my hand go, and pulls his boarding pass out of his pocket to have it scanned.
With a happy sigh and a shake of my head, I hurry to follow him. And a moment later, as we head down the jet bridge to the plane, my hand finds its place on his back.
Another spot made just for me.
It’s perfect. We’re perfect like this, together.
And he’s right—it’s gonna be a really long day.