Lucy hadn’t been sure at all that they’d find anything festive, but in the end, St. Barts had a few bars decked out for St. Paddy’s Day, and along with a handful of the tour group members and Nick, she pushed through a heavy wooden door and found herself in the middle of what looked like a traditional Irish pub.
“Oh! I wasn’t expecting this at all,” she said, turning to Nick in surprise. The bar was long and made of polished wood, and along the mirrored back wall were several glowing sconces that made the bottles of liquor and the brass knobs of the draft beer tap shine in the low light. Tall bar chairs covered in tufted red velvet were taken up by patrons holding frosty mugs of beer and glasses of whiskey, and a band against the far wall was playing songs by the Irish band The Pogues.
Nick put both hands on Lucy’s shoulders and gave her a little shake as he laughed. “You saw a sign out front that said ‘Liam’s Shamrock Pub’ and didn’t think that it might sort of lean in this direction?”
Lucy stuck her tongue out at him. They’d gone out for dinner as a smaller group than the night before, and Nick had reminded Lucy that they had a date for a drink that evening—just the two of them. Several of their traveling companions had followed along cheerfully, but Lucy fully intended to come through on her promise and find a small table for two in a dark corner so that she and Nick could relax and not make small talk with strangers.
Sure enough, a scratched table with two empty chairs materialized when a group of burly men moved toward the bar. Lucy pointed at it wordlessly. Nick nodded at her and held up his fingers as if to ask if he should get two drinks. Rather than shout over the noise or make any requests, she gave him a thumbs-up and held her crossbody purse close against her stomach as she wove through the crowd and scored the table. She’d drink whatever he brought.
The band launched into a cover of The Pogues’ “Eyes of an Angel” and Lucy turned her attention to them, nodding along as the lead singer leaned into the microphone and gave it his all.
“I got you a Guinness,” Nick said loudly, holding up a pint of beer and setting it down on the table with a slosh. “It seemed fitting.”
“That works.” Lucy lifted the glass and knocked it against his, spilling even more onto the already wet and slightly sticky table before she took a sip.
It hit her then as they drank and listened to the band that they were sitting way too close to the music to actually carry on a conversation, and so they sipped their beers in amiable silence and watched the people around them. As soon as they’d both finished, Nick offered her a hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Are we leaving, or are we dancing?” Lucy said loudly, putting her mouth to his ear.
“Dancing first, then leaving,” Nick said, tugging her to him without warning and causing her to give a little whoop. The men at the table next to theirs cheered as they watched the surprise on her face.
Nick started to do an exaggerated Irish jig as Lucy clapped her hands together, laughing. “You’re not going to get away with just watching, lass,” Nick said, wrapping one arm around her waist and taking her hand in the other.
Lucy had no choice but to hop along with him as the band played boisterously, until finally, out of breath and having laughed until her stomach hurt, Lucy grabbed Nick’s hand and pulled him to the door.
Outside the sky was nearly dark and the street was full of people wandering and talking.
“You’re quite the dancer.” Lucy let go of his hand and fell into step beside Nick as they both caught their breath.
“Not really. I just know how to have a drink and cut loose. To be honest, I write better than I dance,” he assured her. “At least, I hope I do.”
“Oh, come on—don’t sell yourself short. You’re an amazing writer. But I wouldn’t set my sights on Dancing with the Stars if I were you.”
They walked past an ice cream shop that was completely full of people waiting for their cones, and then continued on down to the marina where some truly massive yachts bobbed in the water. Nick kept both hands in his pockets as they walked, which meant they successfully avoided that awkward hand-bumping thing that sometimes happened when you got too close to the person next to you.
“Let’s sit,” Nick said, lowering himself onto the wooden planks of the short pier and letting his legs hang over the side. The soles of his feet were just inches above the water and he offered Lucy a hand, helping her down as she sat next to him, legs dangling next to his own.
People moved around on the boats dotting the water in the marina and they watched them in silence, chuckling together as a man walked up onto the top deck of a huge yacht and grabbed his wife from behind, spinning her around enthusiastically as she shouted in happy surprise. On another boat, two young people—teenagers, they looked like from a distance—stood at the bow of a ship, watching the moonlight on the water before eventually coming together in a shy, halting kiss. They were so lost in one another that they were clearly unaware anyone might be able to observe them.
“So,” Lucy said, nudging Nick with her elbow gently. “St. Patrick’s Day on St. Barts. Was this anything you ever imagined yourself doing?”
“Nope,” Nick admitted. “How about you?”
Lucy blew out a huge sigh. “Definitely not. My work life for the past decade mostly involved people who couldn’t talk back to me, so dealing with real, live humans is a pretty big change. It’s required a whole mental shift for me to think of myself as a travel agent and not a doctor.”
Nick turned his head and looked at her. “Before you forget everything from med school, can you assess me? Do I have any classic disease symptoms I should know about?”
Lucy tucked her hands between her knees and laughed to herself. “No way,” she said, shoulders shaking slightly as she considered the ridiculousness of her situation for about the eight millionth time. “I left that behind and broke that habit—I had to! I’m not Dr. Landish anymore, and I don’t think I ever want to be again.” She felt almost melancholy admitting this out loud; being a doctor had been her life’s dream. Leaving her career had been a sad closure for her, but a necessary one. “I must have known deep down that the only way I’d ever escape the mess that my own life had become was to help people who want to escape theirs—even temporarily. Hence, the travel agency.”
Nick stared at her for a long, quiet minute. “Is that how you see this?” He swept his hands around at the water and the sky. “As escaping your life?”
“Yeah. I guess I do.” Lucy blinked a few times. “At least my old life. I think sometimes we outgrow the things that once fit us, and when we do, it’s time to stretch. To change. To reinvent.”
Nick nodded but said nothing, gazing out instead at the young couple who’d been kissing but were now just standing at the railing, the boy behind the girl, his arms wrapped around her waist as they looked out in peaceful contemplation.
Lucy felt her frustration over the phone call from her mother that morning building inside of her once again. “I mean, come on, Nick. I can barely live in a different city from my mom. She’s on me all the time and I know that if I go back there it will kill me. I’ll suffocate. As a reasonable adult who understands the concept of responsibility, I know I should be there, but I can’t.” Her throat tightened with every word, and she could almost feel the weight of her mother on her chest, crushing her ribs and stealing her breath. As the very thought of living in Buffalo and being sucked into her mother’s daily needs washed over her, Lucy bent forward, putting her hands over her face and dropping her head toward her knees. “I’m trying to believe that in helping myself, I actually am helping her. And I hope I’m not wrong.”
“Hey, hey,” Nick said, sounding surprised. He placed one palm flat on her back and moved it in slow circles as she leaned forward. “Deep breaths. This was just a conversation, not a ringing indictment of you as a daughter. I see you every single day, Lucy. I see how hard you try, how much effort you put into everything you do. Even into helping your mom and being there for her.”
Lucy sucked in air as she tried to slow her rapid, shallow breaths. “I know. It just starts to get to me sometimes.” She brought her head up and let her hands fall so that Nick could see her blotchy face and the way she so easily went from a normal, functioning person to a completely unhinged child when the topic turned to the level of responsibility her mother required.
“That’s okay,” Nick reassured her, still rubbing her back gently. “We all have our stuff, and even though we’ve known each other for a while now, this isn’t a topic we’ve really explored together. We worked through the Charlie and Katrina stuff—“
Lucy groaned out loud. “God, I can’t believe I dumped all of that on you as well,” she said, putting her hands to her cheeks again. “It wasn’t even that big of a deal, I just didn’t know many people on Amelia Island yet, and I—“
“Don’t even worry about it. I was happy to listen, and I am always happy to listen to whatever you’ve got going on, Lucy.”
Lucy turned to look at Nick full-on, her eyes searching his face. They were sitting closer than she’d realized and her heart picked up its pace again, though not from worrying about her mother this time. “Why are you so good to me?” she asked softly, looking into his warm eyes, at the way his cheekbones cut two sharp planes across his handsome face, and, finally, down at his soft lips. “Why do you put up with me and my nonsense?”
Nick stopped rubbing up near her shoulders and let his hand drift down to her lower back. The water beneath their feet lapped audibly against the wooden pier in a rhythmic pattern as they sat there, looking at one another intently. It was a moment where he could have said something major or said nothing at all and just let the feeling between them speak for him. It was a moment unlike any they’d shared before.
Lucy waited for him to say something or to kiss her or to pull her closer, and as she did, a sharp splash punctuated by a terrified shout filled the air and caused them both to jump. The moment vanished.
They looked at the water just in time to see the man who’d grabbed his wife in a playful embrace dive over the side of the yacht in one fluid, urgent motion and slice into the water.
Lucy sprang to her feet and Nick did the same. They stood and watched as the man surfaced once, then twice, and finally for a third time with his wife under one arm. Several people on their boat had come to the ledge and were waiting to throw them a flotation device, which the man hooked one arm through, allowing himself to be pulled toward the vessel as he held his wife under his other arm.
“Oh my god,” Lucy said, shaking her head as people pulled the water-logged woman from the water and then offered the man a hand and pulled him back on board as well. “What the hell just happened?”
Nick looked on in amazement as people wrapped the man and the woman in huge towels and blankets. “Too much champagne, maybe?” He shrugged helplessly. “But it looks like it ended well.”
“Thank god,” Lucy said, already distracted by her own thoughts. Now that she knew things were fine with the couple, her mind instantly went back to the near-kiss she knew she’d almost shared with Nick. “They seem like they’re in good hands.” She moved her body so that she was facing him again, but instead of turning to her, Nick kept his body angled at the water and his eyes on the scene before them.
Lucy felt herself deflate. Even though they’d flirted and danced around one another for as long as they’d known each other, and even though they were now on this trip together, it seemed like they’d have to wait a bit longer before taking things any further. She took a step back from Nick and folded her arms across her chest as though she were suddenly cold.
“What do you think—should we head back to the bar and see if anyone is still there?” Lucy offered.
Nick finally turned to look at her and his face registered the realization that their moment had passed. “Oh,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Yeah, let’s head back.”
Nick gave Lucy his arm and she took it, but it felt friendly again, not romantic. As they walked, they made small talk and it wasn’t awkward or weird at all between them. Neither of them acknowledged the way they’d just nearly kissed on the pier, but Lucy couldn’t help thinking of all the things that had led them to that moment: the way he’d given her a snow globe of Venice before her trip; the obvious jealousy between him and Dev when it came to Lucy; the fact that he’d even come on this trip at all.
This wasn’t the time to search for clarity though, and Lucy knew that if and when it was ever time for them to figure things out, they’d figure them out. Until then, she’d just enjoy his company and friendship, and she’d try to hold her feelings about the situation with her mother at bay, where they belonged.