Chapter 33 #2
We walk silently over to a little coffee truck parked under a cluster of trees, away from the main playground.
The air is warm, filled with the smell of fresh coffee and the faint sweetness of the pastries lined up on display.
Nicholas glances at me, smiling, and a weird thrill settles in my chest that I try to ignore.
Definitely a crush.
When we reach the truck, he nods over to it. “What do you want?”
“My treat. Remember?”
He chuckles, looking a little sheepish. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t,” I reply smoothly. “I’m able to buy you a four-dollar coffee, Nico.”
His eyes seem to light up when I say his shortened name. “Thank you, then.”
“So, how do you like it?”
His eyes flit between mine, and he licks his lips, answering, “Black, please.”
“Really? Didn’t think you were one of those people.”
I step up to the counter to place his order. I add my own, something indulgent and loaded with sugar, as it should be, and pay, returning the barista’s friendly smile as she hands over our drinks.
Passing Nicholas his coffee, I watch closely as he takes a careful sip. “Thanks,” he offers, holding my gaze, that casual warmth in his expression. “What kind of people were you talking about?”
“People with no taste.” I shrug with a smirk. “I had to watch to see if you truly enjoyed that.”
He huffs out a laugh. “So, what’s yours then?” he asks, gesturing to the drink in my hand.
I lift my cup with a grin. “Perfection.” I extend it toward him. “Wanna try? It’s not that hot.”
He leans in and takes a sip, then pulls back with a grimace. “That’s… pretty much diabetes in a cup.”
“It’s the only way to drink coffee,” I counter, taking a pointed, long sip, savoring the sweetness.
“So.” He raises a brow. “You’re into sweets?”
“Why would you think that?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“Well, first of all, you smell like fucking jellybeans.”
“Pity you’re not into sweets, then,” I reply casually, noting the glint in his eye.
“I never said that.” He steps a little closer, his gaze meeting mine. “I’m very much into sweets…”
Heat creeps up my cheeks, and I catch myself wondering why he’s actually getting to me.
What the hell, Nova?
Nicholas takes a slow sip of his coffee, eyes thoughtful as he looks over the park and then back at me. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know? My deepest traumas or my favorite color? You gotta be more specific.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I want to know everything, eventually.” He says it so genuinely that my heart skips a beat. “For now, let’s start with this. Would you rather start life as someone else or start your life over again?”
Easiest question ever.
“Start my life all over again,” I reply without hesitation.
If I could erase that one mistake, rewind the clock, they could still be here.
“What about you?” I ask, planting myself back in the present, curious about what someone like Nicholas Harrington would say.
He doesn’t even blink. “Start as someone else.”
“Who would that be?”
His gaze drops, and he smiles to himself, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “Someone nobody knows. With a little flower shop. Just me, some scissors, rows of lilies and roses… a place to make something real.”
I’m so caught off guard by his answer and the softness in his voice.
He’s exposing a part of himself to me freely without expecting it in return.
The idea of Nicholas, this guy with wealth and status, wanting nothing more than a small, simple life surrounded by flowers?
It’s disarming, and I’ve already had too much difficulty with maintaining emotional boundaries with him.
“You’d give up the Harrington name and all the money for a flower shop?”
He meets my gaze. “You wouldn’t even have to ask twice.” He takes a sip of his drink, then lets it drop to his side as he looks into the distance. “All the money in the world isn’t worth shit if it’s not yours to live how you want.”
I nod, his honesty triggering a strange ache inside me.
This is getting too heavy for a first date.
“Well, it’s worth something,” I murmur, offering him a small smile. “At least you could open a flower shop that loses ten grand a month and still not care. Just make pretty bouquets all day.”
He laughs, and I imagine it—him surrounded by flowers, scissors in hand, at ease in his own world. Then my mind wanders back to the question, the idea of starting over. He must sense it because he tilts his head at me and asks, “So, why would you want to start over?”
“To see people again,” I answer, unable to stop myself. My throat tightens. “People I’ve lost.”
I glance down, swallowing hard.
“You’re missing Oscar?” he asks, his tone careful, respectful.
Ah, shit.
I have to tread carefully here, having no idea how well he knew Oscar when I didn’t know him at all. Although… I could play this right.
“You probably knew him better than I ever got to, honestly. I didn’t really know him at all. I only found out he was my uncle through his will. He was practically a stranger to me.”
His face softens, an apology settling in his expression. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance. Oscar was… a good man. One of the few I’ve ever known.”
I study his face for any trace of dishonesty, searching for a hint of anything sinister, which the guys seem to think he’s capable of harboring. But there’s only sincerity and a quiet kind of sadness and regret that’s as real as the day around us.
If he knows anything about what his mother did, if he’s part of any of it, then he’s an incredibly convincing liar. The Nicholas standing here with me, talking about flower shops and lost people, doesn’t fit the profile of someone complicit in something that cruel.
Maybe he’s more trapped in this world than they’ve ever realized.
After that admission, the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, and I know it’s time for me to leave, to make myself scarce, keep him hooked. Before I do, something has to come from me, something to show him I’m interested too.
“What are you doing Saturday evening?” I ask, feigning a casual tone, even though my heart is racing.
Why is my heart racing?
“Why are you asking?” A smile breaks across his face, slow and knowing.
“I thought…” I glance away, playing it coy, letting a smile tease my lips, “… maybe we could…”
His hand slides over mine, brushing along the back of my hand, his touch sending a thrill up my arm.
“I’d love to go out with you, but… it’s the Desert Bloom Gala on Saturday.
My mother’s annual thing, where she puts on her good face to give back all that crap she pretends she cares about.
However…” he continues, with a hint of a grin.
“I heard she invited the twins, so I’m guessing you’ll be there too? ”
Will I?
“Right.” I nod, letting out a laugh. “I forgot about that.”
“I guess,” he starts, his eyes warm and focused on mine. “You’ll have to stay with them, then… being their assistant and all.”
“Most of the time, probably.” My lips curve. “I’d be more than ready to ditch bad company again for a few minutes, though. If you’re willing to let me bask in yours.”
“Absolutely.” He says it in a way that makes me believe it’s a promise.
There’s a pause, neither of us making a move to leave. Finally, he steps back and empties his cup, taking my empty one too. He tosses them in the nearby trash can before turning back to me.
“Thanks for coming.” He steps closer, slipping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. He doesn’t let go, just long enough for my heart to flip in my chest. “I’m glad you came, Rosie,” he murmurs softly against my hair.
He may as well have dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Me, too,” I say, barely more than a whisper before he lets go of me.
I step back, turn, and make myself walk away, the ghost of his touch fading slowly as I go. The truth is, he’s starting to feel a little too real, a little too close. And the last thing I need is to become truly attached.
Needing to shake off what just happened, I pull out my phone and type out a quick message to Sylus.
Nicholas thinks I’ll be at some gala on Saturday with you guys.
Any idea what that’s about?
He replies almost immediately.
Sylus
I’ll get everything sorted and check in with you soon, Sparkle baby.
I stare at his message, relief and dread suffocating what was a nice day.
I can do this.
As long as I don’t think or feel anything too deeply.