Page 24 of Holiday Tides

fifteen

Summer

“Inever thought I’d see you two breaking bread…or holding hands,” Carol Cook says, her tattooed eyebrows rising suggestively. “I hate to interrupt your romantic evening, but I have a question for you, Summer.”

Nick slides his hands away from mine as I address Carol with a tight smile. “How can I help you?”

I should probably correct her misconception over what’s happening, but that would lead to revealing Nick’s vulnerability to someone who’d feast upon it like a famished wolverine. Even though she already knows the basics, the impulse to protect Nick burns like a bonfire in my chest.

“No denial. Interesting,” she murmurs.

Nick opens his mouth, but I shoot him a glare that has him sealing his lips and rubbing the back of his neck. Let the rumor mill do what it wants. Nick has been through too much as it is. Many would hear his tale and scoff in disbelief that any parent would abandon their child like that. Except, I’ve unfortunately seen worse over my years of working in children’s medicine.

Carol watches our wordless conversation, delighted, before focusing on me. “I’ve got a friend on the mainland who goes to my church. Her daughter and grandbaby are moving back to the area and need a pediatrician. Are you taking on new patients?”

“I am.” My grin relaxes. “Have her call Atlantic Pediatrics, and one of our front desk staff can set her up with me.”

Our server arrives with our food, and Carol thankfully excuses herself with no additional comments or questions. I expect Nick to make jokes, to lighten the heavy mood, but we both recede into ourselves for a while, quietly eating. I’m three-quarters through the deliciously spicy wings when the desire to give Nick something that would make him happy pulses like a beam of light.

“Do you have time on Saturday to look at the fireplace?”

Nick blinks up from the remnants of his bread pudding. “Really?”

My chest squeezes at his timid expression.

I nod, pressing my lips together to keep from reaching out and sliding my thumbs over his skin again. The sensation of his rough palms feels like it’s already etched into my mind, right beside all my siblings’ birthdays and my first memory of jumping through waves with Gramma.

“How about after three? We’re trying to finish ahead of schedule.”

I pull my mouth into what I hope is a convincing smile, since the rest of me has been folded inside out. “That works.”

After a beat, Nick fills the rest of our quick dinner with comical stories of his work week, and I’m so distracted that by the time we leave, I don’t even notice Carol sitting at a table near the exit.

“Didn’t you kids forget something?”

Nick and I turn back toward our table when Carol points upward. I feel more than see Nick’s shoulders rise with a largelydrawn breath when we both notice the mistletoe attached to the ceiling tiles.

Directlyabove us.

A buzzing begins at the base of my spine and quickly spreads outward until my calves and forearms feel as if they’re vibrating. Iwantto kiss Nick. The revelation is so sudden and all-encompassing it’s like being dropped into icy sea water.

“Come on, Carol. What are you, the mistletoe police?” His fake laugh grates my ears.

“It’s fine,” I murmur.

Before I can overthink it, I rest my hand on his chest to rise on my tiptoes and kiss his stubbly cheek. Overwhelming impulse aside, I can’t do anything else while still being involved with Cooper. I’m mentally clearing my schedule tomorrow night to drive to his apartment and have a conversation with him. It’s crappy to break up with him so close to the holiday, but I can’t feel like this about Nick while also dating him.

It’s not until I lean back slightly that I notice Nick has laid his hand over mine, capturing my fingers. His riotous heartbeat thrums beneath my palm as our eyes meet. When we both draw in a shuttered inhale, a helpless sensation floods me. This—us—suddenly feels inevitable. Unstoppable. Nick’s eyelashes flutter when our noses brush, but before either of us can close the remaining distance, the lights on the Christmas tree blow with a loud pop.

“Darn fuse. That keeps happening.” A server crouches at the base as we fling ourselves apart.

“Um.” I swallow the boulder in my throat. “We—we should go.”

“Yeah.” He practically runs toward the exit, his broad hand opening the door for me while simultaneously standing as far away as possible.

Then we’re wordlessly striding back toward my house, my gratitude toward the glitchy Christmas lights everlasting. I never want lines to be blurred. Once I make a clean break with Cooper, I can consider all the sensations wreaking havoc in my body.

Nick and I go our separate ways, and I’m safely behind my cottage door when I recall Carol’s parting words.

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