Nowhere but Here

“Did you eat one?”


“Yeah.” By that point he was at the counter checking his blood sugar with the meter. “Holy shit,” he said and then reached for his insulin pen. He gave himself a shot and then sat down next to me at the table. He still seemed a little hyper, but then I brought him down as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Are you worried that your children will get it?”

“Our children?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried, Kate?”

“You’re the one living with it. Should I be worried?”

“If, God forbid, one of our children gets it, then I would be able to help them learn to live a pretty normal life. Despite the fact that neither one of my parents had it, they were still able to help me live the healthiest possible lifestyle. But, if that scares you too much, then we can adopt. I think we should anyway. I want a big family.”

“I think I do, too, and I won’t be scared if you’re not. I trust you.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed my nose. “Now what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I told Dylan and Ashley if you were up for it that we’d meet them on the roof at midnight and drink champagne and bang pots and pans or whatever.”

“Sounds perfect.”

After I showered and got ready, we grabbed a cab and headed into the upscale Gold Coast neighborhood. We stopped in front of a building that I’m pretty sure was owned by Oprah. Jamie led me through the lobby toward the elevator. He inserted a key and pressed the button for the penthouse. We entered a vacant foyer and walked down a hall until we were standing in a large loft-style room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan. The floors were a warm and inviting hardwood. Even though the space was empty, something about it felt like home. Maybe it was that I could see so much of my beloved city, or maybe it was because I was standing there with Jamie.

“So you want to buy this place?”

“Want to buy?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“What, then?”

He just stared at me with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He shrugged and then rocked back a few times on his heels.

I squinted, scowling at him. “You! You already bought it?”

“Bingo.” He smirked, and oh, that goddamned dimple.

“For me?” I shrieked.

“Uh-huh. Well, for us, silly girl.”

“Oh my god, how much did this cost?”

His lips flattened. “Not very much, and anyway, I need the write-off.”

“Not very much by whose standard?”

“Katy, stop, seriously. There’s an amazing loft that will be the perfect place for you to read and write. Come see.” I followed him through an insanely clean and ultramodern gourmet kitchen to an open staircase and loft lined with bookshelves. There was a large window in the loft with the same gorgeous view looking out onto the lake. I was mesmerized; I couldn’t take my eyes off the water. The white outline from the snow and ice piled on the shore reflected so brightly, I had to squint. It was uncharacteristically sunny for that time of year. I imagined the snow melting and breaking away into the glimmering, still water.

“It’s beautiful.” I turned to see him watching me.

“It is now,” he said.

I smiled all the way to my ears. “Should we christen it?”

He stalked over to me, braced my neck, kissed me thoroughly, and then murmured, “Katy, you dirty girl,” right into my ear.

I grabbed his butt. “Well?”

He pulled back and took a loud, deep breath. “I’m sorry, baby. I need to eat. I’m feeling a little weak.” Jamie never complained about his diabetes, and because of that I wasn’t that aware of its impact on our lives. He was determined not to use an insulin pump, so I knew he was cautious. Exerting himself would make his blood sugar even lower.

I ran my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and gazed into his eyes. He held me around the waist. I cocked my head to the side and stared dreamily at him.

“What?” he asked.

“I have a Balance bar in my purse. Do you want it?” He smiled kindly and nodded. “I love you, Jamie. Thank you for this. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“I love you, too.”

We started moving very gradually in a circle, still embracing each other, slow dancing to the sound of our beating hearts.

Remember playing hide-and-seek as a kid? You would run full speed away from the one who was “it.” Every time you played, you thought you’d found the best hiding place. You would sit, shaking with anticipation because even though the object of the game was the opposite, all you really wanted was to be found. You wanted to be found by the one who was “it.” For months, I had been hiding. I had run so far and hidden so well, I thought no one would find me, but then he did.