Page 50 of Nathan

Indie nods. “True.” She sighs, considering my question. “Out of all of Declan’s brothers, Nate is the one I know the least, and the one I’m not at all close to.”

I tilt my head. “Why is that?”

“Partly because he lives on the other side of the country, but I think it’s more to do with Nate himself. He’s… difficult to get to know. You saw him last night. Not even his brothers can get much from him, and Declan virtually raised him.”

I nod. “I told him off for how rude he was when we arrived.”

Indie raises an eyebrow. “You did? Brave girl.”

“He took it well,” I said, my voice full of irony.

Indie laughs. “I can only imagine.”

I pause, wondering whether I should push harder—whether Indie has an insight into why he hates coming to New York so much. Oh, what the hell. In for a penny and all that.

“Why does Nate hate being here so much?”

Indie comes to sit beside me. “I don’t know. Over the last four years, I can count on one hand how many times he’s visited, and whenever Declan has suggested we go to visit him, Nate always has an excuse.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand it. If you were all horrible, then, sure, I’d get it.”

“Have you asked him?”

“Oh, yeah. He either responds with brooding silence or a snippy comeback.”

“I wish I had some insight.” She takes a sip of coffee. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

I frown. “What makes you say that?”

“His smile.” When my frown deepens, Indie elaborates. “I find Nate a little intimidating if I’m honest. I remember when I first met Declan, something made me want to give Nate a wide berth. But upstairs just now, I saw him smile three times. Three… in the space of ten minutes. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile that much in four years. Whatever you’re doing, I say keep doing it.”

A shot of warmth rushes through me. Could I be making a difference in Nate’s life? He certainly laughs with me. A lot. Yet from Indie’s experience, laughter is a rarity.

I flash a quick grin. “I’ll try.”

“Okay, food.” Indie goes back to cracking eggs. “Last chance. Sure I can’t tempt you?”

“I’m taking her out for breakfast.”

I twist around to see Nate sauntering casually across the living room. Like a clichéd heroine in a chick-lit movie, my breath catches in my throat, and my heart speeds up. His hair is still slightly damp from our earlier shower, and the black button-down shirt he’s paired with jeans shows off his muscled physique to perfection.

He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Shall we go?”

“Sure.”

“Enjoy, kiddy-kins. Be good,” Indie says with a grin.

“Very fucking funny,” Nate says, although his lips tug upward with a hint of a smile as he catches my hand in his.

A thick blanket of cloud has replaced yesterday’s endless blue skies. Just as well considering I’ve left my sunglasses in the bedroom. It’s still humid, though, and my T-shirt sticks to my skin after trying to keep up with Nate’s loping strides.

“Can you slow down a bit,” I say, yanking on his hand. “I’m small, remember.”

Nate lazily casts his gaze over me. “Yeah, but perfectly formed.”

I roll my eyes, but secretly, I’m thrilled. I keep wanting to pinch myself to make sure all this is real. I’m on vacation. In New York. With Nate O’Reilly. And we’re walking down the street hand in hand. The odd passerby casts a curious glance our way, probably trying to place Nate, but he stares straight ahead without making eye contact. I realize after a few minutes that this is a tactic he uses in LA, too. It must be an approach he discovered works because not a single person accosts us.

He stops in front of a café with a green awning that reads: Evergreen. “This place serves the best pancakes in New York,” he says, pushing open the door.

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