Page 44 of Even If the Sky is Falling
Nick leaned on his incredibly stable table and stared at her. Her dark eyes twinkled with mirth as she bit her bottom lip. He suddenly wished he could kiss that lip, suck it between his own and give it a soft bite. He wondered what sound she’d make.
“Nick?”
He blinked, embarrassed by where his mind had taken him. “Yeah, vodka is perfect,” he said. “Lemme get the glasses.”
Shea
On her second cocktail, Shea felt comfortable enough to ask Nick about his life. So far, he’d only asked her about herself, which she found delightfully surprising. In the past, she’d had the misfortune of having first dates with men who only spoke about themselves and barely let her get a word in. And since she’d dated men in academia, the chatter was mostly abouttheirwork,theirpublications,theirresearch aspirations.
Because Nick was an engaged listener, she was able to share bits of her life. Stuff she found mundane, but he seemed interested enough. He sat relaxed, facing her with one ankle on his knee and his arm lying on the back of the couch.
“But enough about me,” she said, settling into her end of the couch, cradling her vodka tonic. “I’ve been going on and on about my family and school. I’d love to know more about your photography career. What’s it like? Who did you work for? Where’s the loveliest place you’ve been?”
He chuckled as he leaned in for a sip of his drink. “I haven’t shot anything in a year, and I don’t know when I’ll get back into it,” he admitted, his smile dipping as he examined his glass. Shea caught the brief change to his expression and wondered what it meant.
A man as urbane as Nick probably missed being on the road and probably found Chicago boring. And she never got to go anywhere... Was she boring too? The instant she’d learned he was a magazine photographer, she worried she was pining for a man who would just leave if the right opportunity arose. Imagining his adventurous life before they met made her hesitant to approach him. What if he wasn’t finished traveling the world?
“But to answer your question, I’ve freelanced for a few cool publications. Have you ever readAfar Magazine?”
She nodded. “I have! It’s one of my favorite travel magazines.”
Nick ducked his head as a grin returned to his face. “Yeah, well, I did a spread for the Orient Express about three years ago,” he said. “I’m pretty proud of that one.”
Shea gasped. “It’s my dream to ride the Orient Express,” she said in a hushed voice, clutching her drink closer to her chest. “What was it like? What route did you go?”
He tilted his head back as if to recall the trip. “We started in Paris...which was kind of a mess actually. Me and the writer, a guy named Henri, got mad drunk the night before. I mean stumbling-through-the-streets drunk before we fell out in our hotel room. I think I slept on the floor. We woke up late and fled the room, just hauling ass to the train station...”
Shea giggled as she listened, imagining two hungover men running down the cobblestone streets, luggage flapping in the wind.
“When I tell you Parisians were looking at us like we were out of our minds... Man, I didn’t care.Afarhad paid out the nose for those tickets, the assignment was supposed to be for the holiday travel issue and we were on a tight deadline. I just hate that Henri convinced me that another round of tequila was a good idea.”
Shea laughed at the foolishness. “I’m assuming you guys made it?”
“Just barely,” Nick said, taking another sip. “As soon as we found our train car, we were out like a light again, trying to sleep off our hangovers. Luckily, the trip was four nights because we didn’t get to work until the next day. On day three, we ended up in Budapest, where we stayed in a hotel and saw the city. I got some great nightlife shots, didn’t drink as much,” he said, holding up a finger, “and we headed back to Paris the next day without problem.”
“What was the most beautiful part of the trip?” Shea asked.
“The Alps,” he answered quickly. “No doubt.”
“Do you miss it? Being out in the world like that? The farthest I’ve ever been was Mexico for a conference,” she said, cautiously.
Nick ran a finger along his bottom lip as his gaze slipped back toward his glass. He waited a beat before nodding slowly. “Sometimes,” he said in a thoughtful voice. “I don’t necessarily miss sorting out visas and customs, or trying to find sim cards so I can call my dad. I guess I just miss the art. Like I said, I haven’t shot anything in a while.”
“I’m sorry it’s been a while,” she said. His voice was full of so much longing that it tugged at her heart and made her want to hug him.
But he brightened when he looked up at her face. “Oh, don’t feel bad for me,” he said quickly. “I’m not in a bad position at all. Because I lived on the road for so many years, I saved a good deal of money. I’m comfortable. I now own the store and the apartment above. I’m back home with my dad, which is good. I like being able to keep an eye on him.”
“And your mom?”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, she passed when I was a teenager.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. Dad and I hung in there though. Having a large family outside of us helped.”
Shea almost didn’t know what to do with her hands. They were itching to cross the space separating them to touch his leg. She was no longer in the position of thirsting over the man from afar, she was now sitting with him and conversing about their lives. The intimacy of their bunker chat was overwhelming, it made her want to snuggle against his arm while they drank.
“And besides, I’ve met a lot of interesting people while running the bookstore.”
