Page 45 of Between Two Shores

When they arrived at their apartment, Nick opened the wooden door with a creak, and they stepped inside. The scent of dust and male cologne mingled in the air. Commercial-grade carpet covered the floor in the first room, which must be the lounge. Cozy, all right. She could take two steps in each direction and hit the walls. It held a vinyl loveseat, scratched coffee table, and a flat-screen TV. To her left, a round dining table sat next to a compact kitchen painted in black and white. At least it appeared functional and tidy. Nick said nothing as he continued down the short hallway. She followed him to the bedroom. A queen-sized bed with a gray and black striped cover and two red pillows took up half of the space. Her stomach knotted as she scanned the room. Mahogany wardrobes and matching chest of draws with bed-side tables filled the rest of the room. But where would her bags go? Nick lined them against one yellow wall, which left little room to walk.

Nick approached and rubbed her arms. “You okay? You look like you’re about to fall over. The long flight is taking its toll.”

“Yes,” she mumbled as she released the handles of her luggage. Nick took the suitcases and squeezed them beside the others.

Beth shuffled to the end of the bed, turned around, and flopped backward onto the soft mattress. She closed her eyes and listened to Nick move about the room. An eye cracked open at the sound of a zip. He removed his jacket and placed it into the wardrobe, where an assortment of coats and shirts hung. He would let her have the room, wouldn’t he? He’d need to hang his legs over the side of that tiny sofa. Maybe he could find a blow-up mattress somewhere.

“What’s the sleeping arrangements?” She asked with the little energy she had left.

He hesitated as he looked to her. She sat upright. Her head whooshed with the sudden movement.

“About that. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a one-bedroom. You were on the plane. I couldn’t call you to discuss what we should do.” He ran his fingers over his short hair.

“Who’s sleeping on the couch tonight?”

“You want me to sleep on that sofa?” He grunted. “Have you seen how big it is? I could sleep on the floor if you don’t want to share the bed.”

Now, she felt like a drama queen. She pinched the bridge of her nose. It was too hard to think.

“I’ll let you sleep, Beth. If that’s what you want.”

Her eyes flashed open. “What I want? What were you expecting?”

His head reared back. “Not much. I knew you would crash from your trip. I’m tired too.”

She shook her head. “But what about the next few weeks while we organize the wedding ceremony? Did you expect us to share a bed?”

“It’s up to you. I don’t have a problem with it.” He shrugged. “We’re getting married soon.”

The pulse in her neck ticked. Why was she panicking? Why was she nervous all of a sudden?

He quickly added, “We don’t have to do anything. Just sleep.” He raised his palms. “What’s your problem?”

This was not going to plan. And that was the problem. There was no plan. Nick seemed to be winging it. Would this be what it would be like to follow Nick around the globe? Not knowing where they would stay? Maybe she wasn’t as spontaneous as him.

“I just want to sleep on a soft bed tonight. I feel bad that I’m making you sleep on the floor. But can you do it for tonight, and we’ll work something out for tomorrow?”

Nick let out a sigh. “Of course. I’ve slept in sailor bunkers. I’m used to poor bedding options, so another night won’t be too hard to get through.”

“Thank you.” She flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

Some moments later, she flinched from the click of the bedroom door. Nick had left her alone with the overhead light off and a bedside lamp on. She stretched her arms above her head. Beth kicked her shoes off and crawled under the covers. Too tired to get changed. Must sleep.

The next morning, Beth woke to the clanging of dishes on the other side of the wall. A yawn expanded in her throat as she pushed herself up. On the pillow was a drool patch. Gross. Good thing Nick wasn’t around to see. She turned it over and got out of bed. Her clothes clung to her from the body heat trapped under her jacket. She needed a shower fast—before Nick smelled her. Ew.

Beth collected a change of clothes and her toiletry bag, then sneaked down the short hallway, looking for the bathroom. Easy enough to find in a tiny apartment. The waft of bacon drifted from the kitchen. The rangehood whirled, and Nick sang off key to a song blaring from his phone speaker.

She tip-toed to the bathroom and locked the door. Glossy black cabinets greeted her along with a round framed mirror. She jumped at the sight of herself—hair stuck out in every direction. Gray patches underlined her eyes. She stretched the pale skin over her cheekbones. Was she coming down with something? A shower would do her good.

Next to the sink, a drinking glass with a single garden rose tilted in some water. Nick must’ve placed that there. Sweet.

She showered as quickly as she could and slipped into skinny jeans and a rusty orange sweater. With her hair brushed and fresh breath, she was ready to greet her fiancé.

“Good morning.” She trilled as she rounded the corner.

His smile stretched his cheeks. “Afternoon, my love.” He winked as he leaned against the counter.

“Really?”

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