Nuri
was standing in reception, still and steady, dressed in jeans and a tight,
well-pressed shirt, with his curls combed back behind his ears, a serious look
on his face, and a slim document file under his arm. Mandi was back in her
place behind the welcome desk, though it was past her working hours. She had
her coat on, but also an expression on her face that said she wouldn’t be going
anywhere until she’d seen what happened between the two men.
Eddy
had never been so pleased to see anyone in his life. He’d forego any Lottery
win notification, any contract for Jersey Boys, any paparazzi who may
one day be lurking to catch his star on the rise—only to see Nuri waiting for
him.
He
walked up to Nuri. His fingers itched to touch Nuri’s cheek: to stand chest to
chest and rub his face against Nuri’s beard. His whole body ached for the
contact. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly.Tooquickly. But how much time