Page 59 of If It Can't Be Us

I pull back slightly to catch my breath, a smile playing on my lips. “You know, the driver can see us,” I whisper. Nick’s eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, a rebellious grin spreading across his face.

“Let him watch,” he murmurs before kissing me again, more urgently this time. My heart pounds in my chest, the mixture of public and private, combined with my nervousness, making every touch and kiss feel electrifying.

As the car nears the townhouses, I feel a pang of disappointment. I don’t want to stop kissing Nick, but I also know that things get complicated when men come inside. As we pull up to the curb, I’m debating whether to ask him to come in or not. Nick gives me one last, lingering kiss, his hand gently squeezing my thigh.

“We should do this more often,” he says with a wink. “I’ll walk you to your door.” He asks the Uber driver if he can wait for him as we get out of the car.

Nick, always the gentleman, walks me to my door and kisses me goodnight with a respectful tenderness, leaving me breathless as I shut the door behind me.

I breathe out slowly, grinning in the darkness of my entryway. That was a lot of fun. I flip a light on and walk across my living room to my kitchen, tossing my coat and purse on the couch as I pass by. I notice the time—10:30 PM.

With a pang of guilt for sort of ditching Leo tonight, I swipe up on my phone to send him a text.

Vivian:Hey you… I’m home. Want me to come over?

Part of me hopes he’s asleep because exhaustion is taking over and I work in the morning, but another part wants to see Leo, even if it’s just for a few minutes before he leaves for the week.

I fill up a glass of water, turning off the lights behind me as I walk back into the living room to put my coat in the closet. Phone in hand, so I don’t miss a text from Leo, I walk upstairs to ready myself for bed.

With my face washed, pajamas on, and eyes half-closed, I sink into the softness of my sheets and stare at my phone. 10:50… no response. The message is left on delivered. Maybe I can catch him in the morning. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

I really like Nick, and while it may be old-school to enjoy just kissing someone, the benefit of waiting to have sex is that the build-up and anticipation is half the fun, making it all the more exciting when the time comes…ifit comes, I remind myself. I can’t help but have doubts that I’ll revert to the same old pattern I’ve had with other guys.

I groan and flip over to my side, picking up my phone again. My message is still marked as delivered. Putting my phone down, I toss and turn, trying to get comfortable and quiet my mind—my fucking ego insisting on analyzing every detail and possibility, making it impossible to sleep.

Chapter 18

LEO

December 8

The taxi weaves through the familiar streets of London, the chill of the December air seeping through the windows. The fall semester ended two days ago, and the holiday break is a welcome respite from the constant demands of teaching. Leaving Chicago behind, I hope the change of scenery might clear my head. London always has a way of grounding me, even with the bittersweet memories it holds.

My thoughts drift back to Vivian, who came over early this morning to give me a quick hug before I left for the airport. I had hoped for more time with her, but her touch lingered with me. I had fallen asleep waiting for her text last night, missing the chance to see her before bed. Now, as the cityscape blurs past, all I can think about is how much I already miss her presence.

The taxi pulls up to Andrew’s modern flat in Islington. I step out, the cold air biting at my skin. Andrew is at the door, grinning like a madman, with baby Emma bundled up in blankets and cradled in his arms.

“Leo!” Andrew calls out as I approach, meeting me halfway.

“Andrew, it’s good to see you, mate,” I reply. We greet each other with a brotherly side hug, patting each other’s backs, careful to not squishmy new baby niece. Emma is sleeping in Andrew’s arms, and I can’t help but smile as I look at her. “Oh my God. She’s beautiful, Andrew.”

Nichole greets me in the entryway with a warm hug, the smell of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. Stepping inside, an odd sense of nostalgia washes over me. Seeing Andrew here, creating a family life of his own, fills me with pride.

“Can I hold her?” I ask Andrew.

“Of course, but Nichole is going to make you wash your hands first.” He gestures to the kitchen as he flashes a grin at his wife.

Nichole gives Andrew a look. “Well don’t say it like I’m insane for asking people to wash their hands. It’s a normal request.”

Andrew laughs and kisses her on the mouth. “I know, babe, I just like to give ya shit.”

After washing my hands, we make our way to the living room and Andrew places Emma in my arms, taking great care to teach me how to hold her head and neck. Honestly, I don’t know shit about babies, I’ve only ever held a couple of them in my entire life and was never around them growing up.

“She’s so fucking tiny,” I say in awe.

“Leo!” Nichole shouts, scolding me for my language.

“She’s a baby, Nichole, she doesn’t even know what fucking means,” Andrew retorts. “She’s always getting after me for the cussing in front of Emma… and we all know that she has the mouth of a sailor,” he says, pointing to Nichole.

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