I’d bought him that painting. It had been days ago now and I’d heard nothing.
But maybe he didn’t like it.
That said, he had a right to refuse it and I’d told the handsome Ralphie who worked at the gallery to be certain Nick knew he had that right. So it wasn’t like I was forcing it on him.
But maybe he didn’t want memories of me. Maybe when he found the girl he couldn’t build in a dream, he didn’t want to look at a five thousand dollar painting and remember me. Maybe he thought I was being clingy by giving it to him after he’d ended things so definitively, even if my note didn’t say clingy.
However, none of that prompted an angry Come over. Now. just so he could share that with me. He could simply tell Ralphie he didn’t want it and continue to ignore me.
So no.
I didn’t think that was it.
I just hoped whatever it was—Knight, Anya, one of Nick’s nieces—that it would be okay.
And I tried not to think about how much it meant that if it was Knight, Anya, anything, he had called on me.
By the time I swung in the spot beside Nick’s Jag, I was so frantic, it didn’t register I was back at his place. A place I never thought I’d be again. But even so, it was a place I thought of daily, even hourly, wishing I’d have the chance to go back, just once more, but better, whenever the spirit moved me because in the perfect world of daydreams, it, like Nick, belonged to me.
No, I didn’t think of that.
I just quickly got out of my car, closed the door and felt my heart slam in my chest when I looked up to Nick’s unit and saw his door already rolling open.
He always knew when I arrived, probably heard my car, but he never opened his door before I hit the stairs.
This made me do that: hit the stairs and fast, running as best I could in skirt and heels.
Nick met me halfway up.
And the pain in his face sent a slice of terror through my heart.
“Nick,” I whispered, stopping on the step beside him, lifting my hand to rest it on his chest, my eyes glued to his. “Oh God, sweetheart. What’s happened?”
For some reason as I spoke, I watched the pain score deeper.
But he didn’t answer. He tore my hand from his chest, his fingers closing around mine so hard they hurt. He then dragged me up the steps so fast, I tripped and almost fell.
He didn’t seem to notice. He just kept dragging me until he’d pulled me into his unit. He stopped abruptly to slide the door closed.
The jerk his sudden stop sent through my arm made me fall into him, but I didn’t care.
I was all about Nick.
When he bolted the door and turned to me, I yanked my hand from his, lifted both to his chest and leaned in. So intent on him, I didn’t notice him walking forward, hands to my hips, shuffling me back.
I just begged, “Talk to me.”
He didn’t talk to me.
He stared down at me, the blue of his eyes openly turbulent, the frank honesty of emotion something he’d never given me.
Which meant it had to be bad.
“God, honey. What’s happened?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
“Is it Knight?” I asked cautiously.