“Let me tell you something you may not know,” Christine said. “Nick will wake up sooner or later. He’ll see you, this mom-and-pop shop you’re running and this city for the joke that it is. It’s all fun-in-the-sun now, but it won’t last. He’s going to need more.”
“Are we done?” Leila asked.
“I think so.”
Leila escorted Christine out, locked her door and stood staring at it in a rage. Was it true that she and Nick were no longer in sync? Was it obvious to everyone? Of all the things Christine had said, that was the one thing that bothered her most. Bothered and scared her. If it was true, she couldn’t let it go on.
Chapter 29
Nick poured himself some whiskey, then poured it into the kitchen sink. He was facing another sleepless night and the liquor wouldn’t help. He paced the living room floor, tossing his phone from one hand to the other as if it were on fire. Every night it was the same struggle: wanting to call her, but needing her to realize she wants him, too. After last night, he thought it best to give her time to cool down. He stopped at the windows, taking in the night view. Across the street, the lights of the Intercontinental Hotel stained the darkened sky.
I’m losing her.
One thing was sure. Nothing would come from sitting at home waiting for Leila to come around. She could yell at him, she could kick him out, but he had to try something. He had to fight. He pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys and headed for the door, pausing to check the time. Eight o’clock. He considered ordering dinner. Leila would never turn away good food. Then the phone rang and the doorman announced Leila Amis was in the lobby to see him. Nick leaned against the wall and laughed for the first time that day, surprising the younger man on the phone.
“What should I do?”
“Send her up.”
He waited out in the hall, his blood running warm. Although the circumstances looked good, he refused to read too much into it. Lately, her behavior had been so erratic it would be dumb to draw any conclusions. But when she stepped off the elevator in the littlest of little black dresses, he felt the winds blowing in his favor.
“I have bad news,” she said softly.
“Yes?”
“Your offer was flat-out rejected,” she said. “No counter.”
“You came all this way to tell me that?”
“I like to deliver bad news in person.”
“Okay, well.” He shrugged. “Bummer.”
“Aren’t you upset?”
“Not really.”
“We’re talking about your future home!”
“A—I’m aware of that. B—I’m cautious about what I call mine these days.”
“Are you going to revise your offer?”
“I’ll have to sleep on it.”
She looked around, as if searching for something more to add.
“Are you sure that’s all you came to say?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to another, but stayed quiet.
“I’d hate to think you lost your nerve.”
“Your Christine stopped by my office just now.”
Nick was sorry to hear that. Maybe Kim had been right about her all along.
“She’s not my anything,” he said. “What did she want?”
“She wanted to know if things were going to work out between us.”
“Funny. I’ve been wondering about that myself.”
The elevator bell chimed again, a reminder that they were having an intimate discussion in the hallway. He took her by the hand and led her into his place. Once inside he said, “It took Christine to get you here.”
“It didn’t,” she said. “I’m here to apologize. I’m not proud of my behavior last night. It was petty, and I don’t want to be that girl.”
“Leila, I don’t need an apology. I need you back.”
She dropped her purse on the living room rug. Without a word, she slipped the dress’s thin straps over her shoulders and worked the stretchy fabric to her waist, revealing the beautiful spread of black lace underneath. Nick recognized it immediately. He’d bought the bodysuit for her as a “Sorry I effed up” gift. She was wearing it now to express the same sentiment.
With a few moves of the hips, the dress fell to her feet. She looked at him, eyes vivid. “I’m back.”
The tension of the past weeks broke. Nick felt light and in one swift move he swept her into his arms and laid her on the soft area rug.
She laughed, startled. “Take me upstairs!”
“I’ll take you here first.”
She hastily unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m in no position to argue.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Her arms came around his neck and she kissed back hungrily. Nick worked feverishly to extricate her from the lace encasing. When he was done, he sat between her knees. In the darkened room, the city lights left a pattern of dots on her gorgeous skin. He had no clue how he’d managed to stay away from her for so long, not when they were in the same city.
She whispered his name
“Yes, beautiful.”
“Say you love me.”
“After what you put me through?”
She struggled to raise herself onto her elbows. “Nick!”
“I love you.” He touched her between her legs, feeling her heat and dampness. “But I have one hundred ways to make you pay.”
She raised a slender ankle to his shoulder, resting it there. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Nick curled a hand around her ankle and pressed his lips to it. She relaxed onto the rug and he watched her expression soften.
Yes. She was back.
Naked in Nick’s kitchen, Leila felt comfortable in her skin. Take-out containers, plastic forks and long-stemmed wineglasses were scattered on the honed-granite surface. Smartly hid spotlights let out a soft, flattering glow. All in all, the condo wasn’t so bad. Even the ultra-modern cabinets were growing on her.
“You know, at first I thought those red cabinets were too much, but in this light they’re okay.”
Nick cleared away the food, leaving only the half-full wineglasses. “I’ll tell Sandra you said that.”
“Why?”
“She’s my landlord.”
“This is Sandra’s place?”
“She was one of Reyes’s first buyers. It’s a good investment.”
She hated the idea of him living in another woman’s property, even if it was only investment property. She tried to change the subject. “Can you see the sunrise from the kitchen, too?”
“How about we stay up and find out?” He stood behind her, gathering her hair, kissing a tender spot at the nape her neck. “But I don’t remember you being a morning person.”
“I live in a bat cave. I dream of the sun.”
“You’re welcome to live here.”
He kissed the one spot repeatedly, until in her mind it turned fiery red. Was he serious?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He bit her, and she cried, “Ouch!”
“Let me guess,” he said, his voice gritty. “You’re going to say, ‘Let’s take it slow.’”
She was controlled by his tiny gestures. His fingers in her hair. His kisses. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. “Can’t we do things my way for a change?”
“Your way means we split up. Every damn time.”
“I wasn’t trying to split us up. You took it too far this time.”
“I did what you asked.”
“No. You played me like a Rubik’s cube.”
Nick laughed. “What are you talking about?”
“You figured out all the things I like, and you took them away.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed her back to his chest. She felt hi
m hard against the small of her back.
“You never called.”
“Neither did you.”
“You tried to make me jealous.”
“Ditto.”
“You never looked at me,” she said between labored breaths.
“Not true.” He held her tighter. With his free hand, he reached down and stroked her. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder. “But I’m confused. That’s what you’d asked for.”
But that wasn’t what she’d wanted.
“You wanted your space, you’d made that clear. I wasn’t going to crowd you.” He spoke gruffly into her ear. “You can come and go...” He slipped two fingers inside her. “Right now I know you want to come.”
Oh, God. Climax came swiftly, cutting her at the knees. She gripped the counter’s edge, but Nick held tight. As the world spun around her, she knew that if he asked her to move in again, if he asked her to do anything at all, she’d say yes.
Thankfully her phone rang, the old-school rotary ring tone shrill and insistent.
He abruptly let her go. “Who calls you at one in the morning?”
“Let’s find out,” she teased.
The phone was in her purse on the living room rug. She went to get it, doing her best pageant walk—the languid walk of swimsuit competitions—knowing his eyes were on her. No one ever called this late and she fully expected a wrong number. She was shocked to see the Caller ID display. Weston Hospice.
Chapter 30
Nick drove but he wouldn’t keep quiet and focus on the road, as Leila desperately wanted him to. He had a million questions. “Is this the aunt who raised you?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she been sick?”
She’d found a small brush in her purse and was working it through her tangled hair with aggressive strokes. “Only a few months. The cancer had spread long before she was diagnosed. She didn’t have a chance.”
“And you weren’t going to tell me your one living relative was dying?”
“I have other relatives. I just don’t see them much.”
“That’s not the point.”
Leila slapped the back of the tiny useless brush into her open palm. “Why are you picking a fight now?”
He reached out and stroked her arm. “Sorry. I don’t mean to.”
With nothing but clear roads, the drive west took under twenty minutes.
The hospice building was on the same grounds as the nursing home. Nick pulled into the medical campus and followed the signs pointing to the visitors’ garage. Leila tried to stop him. “You don’t have to park. Just leave me at the entrance.”
“No way.”
She sat gripping her purse. Despite the late hour, the garage was full. Nick parked on the third floor and took the lead heading toward the elevator. It was large enough to fit a casket and still Leila felt claustrophobic. The doors slammed shut and she began to unravel.
“Look. You can’t stay. You have to go.”
“You’re talking crazy.”
“You can’t be here.”
“Why not?”
How could she explain this to him? They existed in a bubble. When they were together, life was good. They made love. They made money. They had fun. It was all very glamorous and sexy. But outside that bubble was real life. Her life. And it was dark, depressing and nothing he was used to.
The elevator opened onto the ground floor. Nick held the doors open with an outstretched arm, waiting for a response. After an awkward pause, she gave up and stormed past him. The bright fluorescent lights and smell of bleach welcomed them into an unforgiving world.
* * *
Camille had had a heart attack, followed minutes later by another. The DNR that she’d signed only authorized medical staff to keep her comfortable. Now Leila questioned the wisdom of that plan.
“Maybe you should do that thing,” she said to the doctor. “That thing on TV with the paddles.”
They were huddled in the hall outside her aunt’s room. The hospice doctor, a brittle-looking woman, was surprisingly soft-spoken and patient.
“Ms. Amis, we agreed to respect your aunt’s wishes.”
“I know, but can’t we do something?”
“Even if we could, it’s much too late. She is sedated and comfortable.”
Nick took her hand and the gesture instantly calmed her. She kept her eyes down. For the first time she noticed the grayish color of the linoleum floor.
“Can we see her?” Nick asked.
“Yes, but keep your voices low, and be mindful of what you say. She may be able to hear you.”
The doctor walked away, her Crocs making a little squeaking sound.
Nick lifted her chin with a finger. “Are you ready, honey?”
“I am, but you should go now. I’ll be fine.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll only stay a minute.”
The small room was bathed in soft light. Leila timidly approached the bed. Since finalizing her aunt’s transfer to hospice, she’d been actively grieving her loss, determined that death wouldn’t catch her off guard. But seeing Camille now, medicated and serene, finally free to relive in dreams all the adventures that had shaped her life, she felt reassured. It was time to let her go.
Leila pulled up a chair to the bedside and was startled to see Nick comfortably settled on the small couch under the window. She stated the obvious. “You’re not leaving.”
He silenced his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “Are you?”
“I don’t want her to be alone.”
“I don’t want you to be alone.”
They sat in silence while time passed.
Leila considered Nick. He was not the happy-go-lucky guy who’d left for New York over a year ago, and it was time she faced that. It had taken a while for her to notice the difference. He was more focused, calculating and determined. His self-confidence seemed more deeply rooted and his actions less impulsive, more sure. She worried that time hadn’t matured her at all. She wrestled with the same issues, and frankly was tired of it.
“I’m a hater, Nick,” she said quietly.
He looked at her questioningly.
“You’re so damn perfect. Handsome, smart, successful—you had every advantage. I didn’t think you could be hurt.” She paused. “And now I know you were.”
She could love him or envy him. The two emotions couldn’t coexist. One would erode the other.
Even this confession didn’t faze him. “Don’t apologize to me. I messed this up so many ways. You had a lot going on, and I never gave it a thought. Then I took off and left you vulnerable.” After a silence he added, “I put stock in the wrong things.”
This mea culpa surprised her. “No. You had to go.”
“I didn’t.”
“And what? Lose out on your promotion? You worked hard. No one deserved it more.”
“I lost you.”
This was the most sincere exchange they’d ever had, but it felt like a postmortem. She had new clarity on their past, but no insight on a possible future. Where would they go from here?
The door cracked opened. A nurse entered the room, pushing a cart into the tight space. Without making too much eye contact, she checked on Camille, logging her vital signs in a chart. She wished them good night and discretely exited the room.
Nick said, “It’s cold in here. Are you okay?”
She frowned and tugged on the hem of her dress. Her bare thighs were covered in goose bumps. “I look like a hooker.”
He laughed quietly. “Yeah, but I like it.”
Pointing to the bed, she said, “Camille would’ve liked it, too. She was a wild one back in the day.”
“Tell me about her.”
Leila wondered where to start. With the possibility of Camille overhearing them,
she had to be careful. Then it came to her. “You should know she was a knockout...”
* * *
Camille passed away at six in the morning. After all the formalities were taken care of, Leila and Nick walked back to the garage hand in hand. In the same elevator in which she’d asked him to leave, she now clung to him, burying her face in his chest, ever so grateful he’d stayed.
Chapter 31
Nick was late. The funeral service was almost over when he arrived. Another heated meeting with Reyes had gone into overtime. However this time, feeling like a titan since he’d gotten Leila back, Nick had walked out, letting the old man know that he had a personal matter to attend to. And besides, he had an ace in his pocket. Christine, however furious she was with him, had referred her client: a Chinese businesswoman attracted to the building specifically for its amenities. Nick was in talks for her to purchase and combine the two remaining units.
Now he slipped into a pew near the back of the chapel and sat next to Brie. The girl leaned close and whispered, “I’ve never seen her this sad.”
Leila looked frail in an austere black dress. He wished he could take her away for a few days, but with Reyes on his back that wouldn’t be possible. Nick decided right there that it was time to free himself of the old man. Once this gig was over, he would have to move on. What that meant, though, he wasn’t sure.
After the service, he joined Leila and stood by her while she thanked the handful of relatives who’d shown up. When they were alone, she complained of a headache. He drew her close, kissed her eyelids and got a taste of her tears.
“I’ve got to go back to work, but I’ll come by tonight.”
“Or I can come over,” she proposed.
Nick recognized her modus operandi. She never let him anywhere near where she lived, always opting to spend time at his place. He lovingly said no. This time they were going to do things differently.
“You have a headache. Stay put, and I’ll bring dinner.”
She pushed away from him, and came right out with it. “Okay. But you won’t stay the night.”
“Why not?”
Exclusively Yours Page 18
