Page 56 of Without a Clue

“What was that?” he says, looking down at me.

I purse my lips. Shake my head.

It’s a little annoying, if I’m being honest.

“What?” he says again.

“I said, phff.”

“I got that. And?”

I consider not answering, then gesture at the woman. “And. It’s just . . . look at her. You’ve got me standing right here and she still is blushing with your little thing you do.”

Nash looks amused. “What thing?”

“If you let me go, I’ll show you what thing.”

He shakes his head. “Clever try, but no can do; you’re a flight risk now. I’m going to have to keep you close. Now, who do we interview first?”

I take a breath.

I know what he’s done.

It’s a little hard to get my head wrapped around the past ten minutes, but it feels like I’ve been through a storm and the sun has finally risen.

Emotions, I have learned in the past two days, rise to the surface before realizations.

Emotions race faster to the forefront of the brain than logical deduction, and before I have time to process everything and work through exactly what just happened and why, there is one thing I can and do find myself relying on in this moment: It’s okay.

Everything is okay.

The worst that I thought was going to happen isn’t happening.

And as that one piece of information falls like a leaflet to my brain, with big bold letters across the page, I process in words what came first with the emotion: Nash isn’t going to leave me.

No, in fact, Nash has drawn closer to me, literally, than he ever has before.

It’s like he has taken into account the extent of my stress and my unspoken emotions and without speaking followed through with equal force in the opposite direction, as if to say: I will not leave you. I will never abandon you. You are safe with me.

“Hey, Nash?” I say.

He looks down at me. Which isn’t easy to do, as a matter of fact, since my face is directly beneath his, buried in his side. “Hmm?”

“I’m sorry for . . . what happened back there.”

“What, you being human? Don’t apologize, Pip. I got you.”

He smiles down at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the temples in what I do believe is the most thrilling smile I have ever experienced.

And the sturdiness behind his eyes is the secret sauce that throws my heart into full gear.

I can be human, I can screw up, and nothing changes.

He’s a rock to stand on in a sea of changing tides.

It’s almost . . . well, it’s almost enough to lose your composure over.

“And for the record, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he adds. “All I was trying to say is that you’re special, Pip. And you deserve someone who’s aware of that every single day.”