If I Stay

Three

From the fountain, we took a circuitous path around the Public Gardens back to my apartment. I made up the couch with blankets and pillows while Andy slipped into the bathroom to change into pajamas. He came back out in black sweatpants and a T-shirt, and I couldn't decide if having him here, like this, was the strangest or the most normal thing in the universe.

"Need anything else?" I asked.

"Nope. Thank you." He flopped down onto the couch on his back and laced his hands behind his head. The muscles in his arms flexed, shifting the patterns in his tattoos. I tore my gaze away, reminding myself, automatically, not to stare at him. But a second later I looked at him again, and this time, he was looking at me, too, his eyes dark and deep, his olive skin burnished with rose.

I could have sworn he was going to kiss me outside that pub, just like he had at New Year's.

The New Year's kiss had been so out of character for him, I'd always figured he was just kidding around—what else could it have been? But thinking about it now, I realized that the New Year's kiss had happened soon after he'd finished his first sleeve and had done his first few 5K races. He'd come out of his shell that year; every time I'd come home from college, I'd only been more dazzled by him.

But I hadn't come home often, and by the time college was over and I'd moved back to the island, I'd already—stupidly—started dating Dalton, the jerk. And after that, Andy had never given me any reason to think he was still interested, if he ever had been. Until tonight.

What would happen if I joined him on the couch right now—took his face in my hands, kissed him? Would he kiss me back? Or had the moment passed?

I hesitated, almost stepping toward him—and just as quickly, I lost my nerve.

"I forgot to ask you how your family's doing," I blurted out, trying to cover my awkwardness.

"Oh," he said, sitting up and resting his forearms on his knees. "They're good. Business is starting to pick up again now that it's almost summertime."

Andy's parents, who were as kind and industrious as Andy himself, ran a house cleaning business for the rich folks on the northern part of the island. His adorable kid brother worked for them, too, when he could take time away from his blossoming music career. They were a nice family—much nicer to me than mine had ever been.

"And how's Felix?" I asked, hugging my arms to my chest.

"He's good, too. He's got a little girlfriend now."

"Cute! Who is she?"

"Rich girl he met while he was cleaning their house." His smile quirked. "She's slumming it with him, obviously, but she seems to like him."

"I'm so happy to hear he has someone." Felix was a catch, just like Andy. I took a breath, and asked, shakily: "I didn't ask if you...um...had anybody. You know."

"Oh," he said again, an inscrutable expression flickering across his face. "No. Definitely not." He hesitated. "Do you?"

"No."

He nodded, not quite looking at me. "How are your sisters?" he asked, after a moment.

"Fine. Jess is still working for the cruise line. Think she's somewhere in the Caribbean right now. And Tara's still in Alaska."

"You're the closest to home still."

I shrugged. I didn't intend to stay in Boston for more than a couple years. I had my sights set on New York or D.C. next. But the way my little sisters were, I'd still be the closest, at least in miles, to the parents we rarely spoke to.