Chapter Twenty-Two
Nico and I walk out of his mother’s apartment in charged silence.
The sun is starting to set, casting a golden haze over the row of brownstones and older tenement buildings.
Across the street, an elderly woman pushes a shopping cart while humming a song I don’t recognize.
A dog barks in the distance, followed by a loud curse.
Nico is holding a plastic bag of Tupperware containers full of about six months’ worth of leftover casserole.
I’ve got a rice cooker and a phone charger in my hands.
The latter is because I mentioned I needed one.
The former? Nico’s mother heard I was cooking rice the old-fashioned Persian way and immediately insisted I take hers off her hands. That’s just the kind of woman she is.
I turn to face Nico. He still looks boyishly disheveled. I resist the urge to touch his hair.
“Why did you lie to me?” I ask quietly.
Nico inspects something fascinating on the concrete sidewalk. “How was your date with Prince Charming?” he deflects. “Please, don’t hold back the gory details. The anticipation is killing me. Did he sweep you off your feet?”
I roll my eyes, studying his profile. A week ago, I would have taken his rude brush-off as an obvious sign of his vehement hatred for me.
I would have met his vitriol with a retort of my own, and we would have gotten into a sparring match that would have resulted in us not speaking for three to five business days.
But that was then.
Now that I’ve gotten to know Nico, to really understand him, I can see the obvious layer of hurt nestled beneath his words. The vulnerability he feels talking to me about his mother. He goes on the offensive so he never has to open up.
I can’t believe I ever missed that about him.
Now I want to spend every day making sure he knows he can lower his guard around me.
I want to be the kind of person he feels comfortable talking to.
“He was perfect.” I take a step toward him. “I really think he might be The One.”
Nico lets out a sharp laugh and backs away. “Good. I hope you guys are really, really happy together.”
“You didn’t let me finish, asshole,” I say. “I said he might be The One. For Evelyn G. Carter. For Merriah. And maybe for some other lucky person out there.”
He turns a quarter of the way to glance at me, his breathing shallow. “But not for you?”
I shake my head. “No, not for me.”
Nico’s eyes widen for a second, and then he dons his mask of feigned boredom again.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says carefully. “I know you had a lot riding on meeting him. So what are you going to do now that even your perfect guy didn’t live up to your standards? Join the Peace Corps? Become a nun?”
“Shut up, dickwad,” I snap, even though I’m grinning from ear to ear. Truth is, I’ll take Nico teasing me over Nico giving me the silent treatment any day. “You still don’t get it, do you?”
He quirks a brow. “Get what?”
“Ryan Mare met my standards, Nico. Every box was checked. That wasn’t the issue.”
“Did you bring up Ryke and totally freak him out?” he asks, biting his lip. “Did he call you out for stalking him or something?”
I shake my head. “The issue is that my standards have changed. They’ve imploded, actually. Totally turned on their head.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.” I huff out a laugh. “Here I thought I was attracted to dark-haired good Samaritans with hero complexes. But as it turns out, pessimistic blond conspiracy theorists are more my speed. Who knew?”
Nico finally turns to face me fully.
He narrows his eyes.
“What are you saying, Joonie?” he asks. “Spell it out for me.”
“I realized I have feelings for someone else, idiot,” I say. “Someone unexpected. But the thing is, I think I may have ruined things before ever giving us a real chance.”
Nico rubs his chin, glancing sheepishly at me before looking away once more. “This mystery guy have a name?”
I grin. “You wouldn’t know him.”
“Well, this is just a shot in the dark here, but I’m guessing that if you explain yourself to him, apologize, and prepare to do a little bit of groveling, he’ll probably forgive you.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, my insides swelling with hope.
“Yeah.” He smiles back. “Call it a hunch.”
“And what would this groveling entail?”
“I’d prepare to get on your knees,” he says. “Maybe even beg.”
Suddenly, the twisting in my gut is replaced with burning heat.
We maintain eye contact for three seconds, then look away, laughing awkwardly.
“I guess we better get to Grand Central, huh?” My voice sounds practically falsetto. “And we’ll have to figure out which auto shop Tey’s truck is at sooner or later. Preferably before he yells so loud he blows out Oliver’s eardrums.”
Nico groans. “Don’t remind me. Maybe we should go on the run instead?”
I throw my head back and cackle. Nico watches me closely.
“What?” I ask. “Do I have something on my face?”
Then Nico—confident, bullishly stubborn Nico—does something totally out of character.
He stumbles over his words.
“Look, I didn’t tell you about my mom because I don’t talk about my mom with anyone,” he confesses.
“She moved here after the divorce because she wanted a fresh start. Said she couldn’t take running into her family at the grocery store or my dad at the car wash.
I was mad at first that she was so far away.
It felt like she had abandoned us, abandoned me.
You know? But now that I’m grown, I realize how good it’s been for her.
She really does have a new lease on life.
So I try to visit her every few months. It’s…
new. But we’re trying to get to know each other again. ”
He’s rambling so fast, I can barely make out every other word.
And you know what? It’s adorable.
“Nico.” I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know talking about your family isn’t easy for you. So it means a lot.”
He gives me a shy half smile, and I feel like I may melt into the pavement.
“For what it’s worth, it seems like your mom really cares about you,” I add. “More than my parents care about me, honestly. And they’re still happily married.”
“Who needs parents breathing down your neck when you have Tey?” Nico jokes.
He opens his mouth to say something else, then hesitates.
Closes it again.
“Were you going to say something else?” I prod.
“Well, there’s a small, tiny chance that I told you I was coming to see a girl because I wanted to make you jealous,” he finally says.
“Minuscule, even. Can you blame me? You were going on and on about how perfect this guy was going to be. It was driving me insane. I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.”
My heart starts pounding so loudly, I think it’s connected to a car speaker.
“Well, there’s a small, tiny chance that it worked,” I tell him. “Minuscule, even.”
He lowers his head so close to mine, his breath ghosts across my cheek.
“You were jealous?” he asks.
“Maddeningly so,” I answer.
Two pigeons sitting on a wire above us choose that very moment to squawk at each other, breaking the tension between us. We spring apart, giggling like schoolgirls.
“We better get going,” he whispers, never once taking his eyes off of me.
Then I hear a familiar drawling voice behind me.
“Leaving so soon?”