Gwen's POV I stood up so fast my chair nearly tipped over. "Nick!" I called again, louder this time. He didn't stop or look back. He just kept walking through the restaurant with long, determined strides. I grabbed my purse, muttered a rushed apology to a completely confused Paul, and hurried after him. By the time I reached the street, Nick was almost halfway down the block, walking fast, shoulders rigid, hands shoved into his pockets. "Nick!" I shouted, running toward him. "Wait!" He slowed. Stopped. But didn't turn around. I reached him, slightly out of breath, my heart racing. Not from the run. From the panic clawing up my chest. "Nick, please," I said, touching his arm. He turned then. And the look on his face cut straight through me. It wasn't anger. Or not just anger. It was humiliation. Shame. A deep, aching hurt. "Why did you leave like that?" I asked, my voice shaking. He stared at me like I'd asked the most absurd question in the world.
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