Chapter 42
Nolan
It’s at the luggage carousel that it hits me, all at once. I’m in love with Andi.
Of all the moments for my brain to choose, it picks this one—us sweaty, skin crisp and sunburnt, her head resting lazily on my shoulder as we watch suitcases circle endlessly on the belt. It feels like a confetti bomb detonated in my chest.
I love this woman.
It doesn’t feel as foreign as it should, considering I’ve never been in love—not like this.
It blankets me in a steady, affectionate warmth, spreading through me until it fills every corner of my being.
Maybe because the feeling has been there longer than I realized, quietly brimming under the surface, waiting for me to figure it the hell out.
And now that I have, it feels obvious. As simple as the sky being blue. The earth being round.
She tilts a goofy grin at me, giddy when her bag tumbles down the chute, entirely oblivious to the fact that she has me wrapped around her finger.
I want to rewrite everything she knows about love—tear down whatever walls she’s built—and show her it’s not just some fleeting thing.
That it can be good, real, and that it can last. We’ll surely mess up along the way, we’ll have hard times, but we’ll make it.
Fuck, I want to lie in bed, debating baby names, planning a future. A home.
I’m still reeling from the weight of it when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen and see two missed calls from Jones. Weird. Lately, I’m the one calling him.
As we head to the parking garage, I dial him back.
Jones picks up on the first ring. “Good news, man,” he says, his tone oddly chipper.
“Good news?” I echo, half listening. I’m distracted by Andi’s ass as she walks in front of me down the narrow space between the parked cars.
“You’re going to Denmark.”
I stop walking, convinced I’ve misheard. “Denmark? As in, Scandinavia, Denmark?”
“Is there any other Denmark? Yeah, royal protection. The second-born Danish princess. She’s starting university and they need extra security.
Two-year contract. And get this—they specifically requested you.
Apparently, your stubborn ass came highly recommended by a certain sexy PM with luscious locks. ”
I blink and blink again, trying to take it all in. “When does it start?”
“As soon as you can get out there. Better brush up on your Viking skills,” he replies casually, like he didn’t just casually toss a grenade my way.
“Holy shit.”
“You fucking owe me for this one, Crosby. I’ll send you the paperwork ASAP when it comes in. Talk soon.”
He hangs up, and I’m left standing there, the phone still pressed to my ear, staring blankly at the dented Honda in front of me.
Denmark? Two years?
I glance over at Andi, waiting for me to unlock my mom’s car, effortlessly gorgeous and completely unaware.
“Can we stop for food on the way home?” she asks hopefully.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I say, making quick work of distracting myself loading the luggage.
She eyes me suspiciously when I slide into the driver’s seat. “Everything okay?” she asks, a noticeable edge to her voice.
I swallow as we drive out of the lot, suddenly aware of every second ticking by, the weight of it all. I’ve just realized I’m madly in love with Andi, and not ten seconds later, the opportunity of a lifetime drops into my lap.
I wanted this for months, begged for it.
Royal assignments are sought-after because they come with a lot of perks, despite the archaic protocol.
They’re prestigious, the operations are complex, there’s extensive travel, and they’re long-term.
An assignment in a nice Scandinavian country to boot?
That’s something I never would have dreamed of.
That said, they require long hours. Everyone knows you give up your personal life for royal assignments, which, until recently, wouldn’t have been a problem.
“Jones—my boss. He called to tell me I got a posting. Two years. In Denmark,” I tell her, keeping my tone neutral. I have no idea how she’s going to react. Even I’ve barely processed it all.
Her eyes widen, though the rest of her body stays stationary. “Denmark? Wow. When?”
“Starting as soon as I can get out there.”
She blinks, like she’s trying to make sense of it. A beat goes by before she speaks. “Congratulations, Nolan. That’s amazing news, isn’t it?”
It should be amazing news. It should feel like freedom, like the break I’ve been waiting for. But it doesn’t. Because I’m not certain I want that life anymore.
I run my hand through my hair. “It is—at least, I thought so. Before you.”
She winces. Winces. “Nolan, you’ve been desperate to leave since the start of summer. This seems like your chance…to get your life back.”
Your life back. Her words hang in the air between us, echoing in my head. “But what if I don’t want it back? What if I wanted to stay?”
Her expression falters. “Nolan, think about this. Do you really want to change your whole life plan for…this fantasy?”
“Fantasy?” I repeat, the word feeling bitter on my tongue. Is that what this is to her?
“I mean, that’s kind of what this is, isn’t it? Pretend?” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “Sure, we may have caught feelings along the way. Lost ourselves a little—”
“Lost ourselves?” I ask, the blood rushing to my ears.
She nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we were thinking clearly.”
“Andi, this summer with you was the clearest I’ve felt…ever. I know I was supposed to leave, but I can’t do that if you feel even the slightest bit the same as me.”
“I just don’t know” is all she says. Her silence is deafening as she sits there, looking out the window at the parking lot.
I wait for her to turn and look me in the eye.
“Andi, don’t. You might be able to fool yourself, but you’re not fooling me.
I haven’t felt like this, ever. You’re the first person I’ve ever pictured a life with.
A home with. I’ve never done that with anyone until you.
The only pretending I’ve done is acting like I don’t love you. Do you not feel the same way?”
“Nolan, I—I’m not saying I don’t feel the same way,” she stammers, looking down at her lap, her hands wringing together. “It’s the exact opposite. The way I feel about you…it scares me. And if you changed your mind and stayed for me and it didn’t work out…”
“I would be staying mostly for you. But I’d also be staying for my mom, for Em, Cody…
I don’t need to travel and live out of my suitcase anymore.
I want my life here. With you.” When I say it out loud, it all plays out in front of me, a life of family, not of work for the sake of work.
Embracing all of Ottawa’s seasons. Barbecues on hot, lazy summer days with Andi, Mom, Emma, and the kids.
Fresh autumn afternoons frolicking down crunchy, leafy trails in the woods with Cody.
Long, snowcapped winters that call for lazy days inside, curled up under a mountain of covers with Andi, cups of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate warming our hands.
Her eyes well with tears. “I want that, too,” she says softly. “But I’m scared. I don’t know if I would be okay if it didn’t work out, regardless of all the reasons you want to stay. That’s why I need you to really think about this. I can’t let you make such a huge decision on a whim.”
My heart twinges when her voice cracks a little, and it hits me hard. She’s scared. Scared to believe in what we have. Scared of what happens if it all falls apart. And to be honest, so am I—only, instead of turning inward to me, she’s turning away.
“A whim,” I repeat, because it feels like anything but. I understand what she’s saying. She needs to know I’m all in. That it isn’t just an impulsive decision I’ll regret. My word isn’t enough.
“You’ve been through a lot the past few months. Everything with your mom and her move to the facility. I think you need some time. Please, take it,” she pleads.
And maybe she has a point. Maybe I do need to think it through.