“I’m sorry, Lily. I’m so fucking sorry. I should have said something, you’re right. My logic was fucking stupid, but I had to tell you now because . . . because . . .”
“Because what?”
“Because I’m so fucking into you! And I want to put all my stupid shit aside and be the partner that you deserve, and I couldn’t go another second without telling you the truth.”
Lily had flattened herself against the brick wall, breathing heavily as she stared at Nick, wide-eyed. He needed to know what she was thinking.
“Over half a year,” she finally said. “You emailed with me for over half a year. I told you so much about my life. You knew me. And you pretended not to. Can you understand how betrayed I feel?”
“Yes,” he breathed, tenderly taking her hand in his. “But I’m begging for your forgiveness. I was trying to protect you from me and I see now how stupid that was because you deserved the truth from the beginning. And I know this sounds ridiculous, but earlier tonight, I was thinking what are the odds that after all this time you and I would end up neighbors? That has to mean something, right? Like fate or some shit? I don’t know. But I’m asking you to forgive me and if you do, I swear to God, I will never lie to you ever again in my life. I will try my best to never hurt you.”
Lily stared down at their clasped hands. She was frowning, her face a storm of emotions. She pulled her hand away.
“I can’t talk to you right now,” she said. She began walking in the direction of the subway.
“Lily, wait.” Nick went after her, and she spun on her heels and held up her hand.
“Please don’t follow me.”
He froze and did as she asked, letting her go.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, watching her retreating form.
He’d fucked it up, way worse than he thought was possible. Her rejection was exactly what he deserved. And he knew it.
Lily wasn’t sure how she managed to get back to Manhattan. She moved on autopilot, staring into space as she rode the subway. She took the elevator to her floor and let herself inside her and Violet’s apartment, fed Tomcat and sat on the couch. All done in a state of disbelief.
Nick was N.R. Strickland.
Nick was Strick.
She felt so stupid now that she knew the truth. It had been there right in front of her face the whole time. How had she not seen it before?
Strick wrote for a travel magazine. Nick said he was a journalist who moved from place to place. Strick had a best friend who was a literary agent. So did Nick. Neither liked to spend time with their family. They had a fear of cats. They loved books. They were the same person. Nick was Strick. Jesus, even their names rhymed.
No wonder he’d felt so familiar to her. No wonder she’d fallen for him so quickly, so effortlessly. She’d already fallen for him before.
She could admit that their current situation was ridiculous. What were the odds that they’d somehow ended up neighbors? She could understand how he’d be freaked out, because she was kind of freaked out too. But he’d known the truth for months and hadn’t told her, and that was unfair.
He’d apologized and pleaded with her outside of the bar. He wanted to stop being afraid. He wanted to be with Lily. It was all she had wanted before. But how could she ever agree to that now? How could they start a relationship on these grounds? He’d ghosted her and concealed the truth once they met in person. She couldn’t overlook that.
Her phone vibrated on her bed, jolting her to attention. It was an email from Francesca Ng, asking for Lily’s interview availability. Lily responded robotically. She didn’t feel like celebrating anymore.
She didn’t even feel like crying over Nick. She just felt numb.
Tomcat leaped onto the couch and curled himself into a ball in her lap. She petted his smooth fur and held him closer. Before long, she heard a soft knock at the door. Somehow, she already knew who it was. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. Nick stood in the hallway, holding a stack of paper. He was staring at the ground, his shoulders slumped. Her heart pounded, and she wished he didn’t have the ability to make her feel this way after everything.
She opened the door, even though she knew she shouldn’t have.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me and you don’t have to,” Nick said. His words came out quickly, tumbling over each other. He held up the stack of paper. “Since our last email exchange in January, I’ve kept a draft on my desktop of all the things I’ve wanted to tell you. The truths about me and my life. The things I kept from you. I printed them out because I want you to have them.”