Free First Comes Love by Emily Giffin Page B

angst of going home. Being back always unearthed grief that I was able to mostly bury in the bustle of my everyday life in New York, where there was no association to my brother. I took a deep breath and braced myself as I rode the escalator up to Delta baggage. To my surprise, there stood Nolan. He still emailed me every six months or so, just to check in and say hello, but incredibly, this was the first time I had laid eyes on him since that night we stood in Daniel’s bedroom together.
    “Hey,” he mouthed, waving at me. I had heard from Josie, who occasionally saw him out at the bars, that he was better-looking than ever, but I still wasn’t prepared for how gorgeous he was, standing there in jeans, a T-shirt, and an Ole Miss baseball cap.
    “What are you doing here?” I could feel myself beaming. “My dad was supposed to pick me up.”
    “Yeah, I know. I played golf with him today. I told him I’d get you.” He mussed my hair as if I were twelve—although he hadn’t actually mussed my hair at any age. “You look great, Mere. Wow.”
    “So do you….I’ve
missed
you,” I said.
    “I’ve missed you, too,” he said, grinning and carrying my bag to his car.
    As he drove me home, we quickly caught up. He told me he was still working in his family business, his father grooming him to eventually take over. I told him about my law firm, and some of its juicier politics. We talked about our parents, how sad it was that mine had divorced, but that his really needed to do the same. We gossiped about people we knew in common. Many had left Atlanta for college, but most had returned to settle down and start families.
    “Why aren’t you married yet?” I asked playfully. “Commitment-phobe?”
    “Nah. Just haven’t found the right girl,” he said. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
    “Not at the moment,” I said. “I work too much.”
    Our only moment of silence came as we passed Grady Hospital. Neither of us said Daniel’s name out loud, though it hung in the air anyway.
    When we got to the intersection at West Paces Ferry, he pointed to the OK Cafe. “Remember the night we went there?” he asked, as if we had shared countless dinners alone together.
    “Of course,” I said.
    “Can you believe it’s been almost seven years?” he asked, lowering his voice, staring intently at the road.
    “No. I really can’t,” I said, feeling a stab of pain in my chest. “He’s missed
so
many things.”
    “I know. A lot has changed.
You’ve
changed….I can’t believe I haven’t seen you on any of your trips home,” he said, as he slowed for a yellow light he could have easily made. I had the feeling he was stalling, prolonging our time together.
    “I don’t come home that often,” I said, thinking of all the times I’d found an excuse to stay at school or work.
    He looked at me sideways, his expression suddenly changing from mournful to playful. “Little drama student turned big city hotshot lawyer.”
    “Nothing hotshot about my job,” I said, which was the truth.
    “Those heels you’re wearing would say otherwise,” Nolan said, glancing down at my shoes. “They’re nice….Nice legs, too.”
    “Thanks,” I said, smiling out my window.
    “You know…I’d heard that you’d…blossomed.”
    “Who told you that?” I said, basking in the compliment.
    “Just the word around town,” he said, shaking his head. “Smart, successful,
and
beautiful.”
    I nearly pointed out that he was confusing vigilant grooming, compulsive exercising, and general Manhattan polish with true beauty, but decided not to correct him.
    A few minutes later, he was pulling up to my childhood home, where my mother still lived. Josie’s car was in the driveway, and I anticipated a long night of counseling her through the Will crisis.
    “Hey, Meredith?” he said as I was getting out of the car.
    I looked back at him, feeling an ancient twinge of attraction and residual adolescent hero worship. “Yeah,