by Cat Grant
She loved riding him like this, moving around until she found the perfect spot, and then—oh, God, right there! He'd found it too, seizing her hips to tilt her at just the right angle, stroking in and out of her faster and faster, biting her nipples. That tiny taste of erotic pain sent her hurtling over the edge, and he followed, catching her when she lost her grip on the headboard and crumpled on top of him.
She rolled off once she'd regained her equilibrium, settling beside him. “So, what did you think?"
"Very nice,” he replied with a soft kiss. “I never knew a foot massage could be such an eye-opening experience."
She chuckled. “See, it's fun letting your partner do the work for a change."
"Obviously I had no idea what I was missing."
"You know, you might want to give this sort of thing a try with someone else."
Now he chuckled. “Is that your not-so-subtle way of saying Nick wants to be on top too?"
"I don't think he'd hate it. And I know you wouldn't."
"You know me far too well."
"Oh, I hope not. That'd make the next forty or fifty years pretty boring."
He rolled onto his side, pulling her close. “I doubt I'll ever be bored living with you."
The next week plodded by in their usual routine, with Nick working on his book and Eric stepping up his exercise program. He'd worked up to several miles a day between the treadmill and the stationary bike, with free-weights and the new stair-master Ally had just ordered for him thrown in for good measure.
Of course, now that Eric knew he didn't have to stay confined to the penthouse, he'd become much more restless. But every time they tried to go out, they faced huge mobs. The security desk found itself inundated with requests from the press for interviews and photo ops, which they'd ignored during Eric's convalescence. But one morning Ally walked into his office to see him riffling through the various messages, his brow knit in concentration.
"Don't tell me you're actually considering giving an interview,” she said.
"I'm afraid it's a bit late in the day for that. We should've started courting the press back when the story first broke. I doubt they're interested in anything we have to say now. They've long since branded us as freaks and perverts."
"Since when do you care what anybody thinks?"
"Since somehow I need to find a way to pacify the governor and the people of this state if I want to keep my seat in the Senate."
She stared at him. “You're kidding me."
"Do I sound like I'm kidding?"
No, of course he didn't. He never kidded about his political career. “Are you trying to tell me that you intend to go back to a job that almost killed you?"
"Allison, how many times do I have to tell you I'm fine? I'm not going to have another attack."
"What, so you're God now? How can you possibly know that?"
He pushed the pile of messages aside and stood up. “I'm not about to throw away years of hard work because of some minor health setback. If I don't resume my duties within a reasonable amount of time, the governor will have to call for a special election to fill my seat. I can't let that happen."
"No wonder you were in such a fucking hurry to recover,” she spat.
"Look, if you're so concerned, why don't you come back to Washington with me? Your work's certainly not keeping you here anymore."
Well, that stung. Which, no doubt, was exactly what he'd intended. “And what would I do in Washington? Sit around waiting for you to come home so we can have dinner at ten o'clock every night?"
"You could redecorate the house. You had fun doing that last time."
First a sting, now a slap in the face. Was he trying to insult her intelligence? “Last time was less than six months ago. Even I'm not that bored,” she snapped. “What you're really saying is that you want me there to play arm-candy in case you have to make a public appearance."
"It wouldn't hurt to show people you still stand by me. In fact, it might make all the difference."
She took a deep breath, counting to ten before continuing. “Will you just think about this rationally for a minute? Even if you do manage to hold onto your seat, do you honestly think after everything that's happened that you've got a chance in hell of being elected president?"
"I'm not a quitter, Allison. You know that."
"I also know it's classier to leave before they throw you out."
Those tight, tense lines sprang up around his mouth again; her heart raced with worry at the sight of them. “I'm not giving up, and that's final."
"All right,” she said quietly, the words bubbling up before she could stop them, “but if you go to Washington, don't expect to find me here when you get back."
"Or me,” came Nick's voice from the doorway.
Eric's glance flicked from Ally to Nick and back again. “What is this, some kind of conspiracy?"
"I don't want to go through a repeat performance of what happened in Italy, Eric,” Nick said, coming up to stand behind Ally. “Watching you almost die once was bad enough. I won't do it again. I love you too damn much."
"So do I,” Ally agreed. “Run for president if you want, but I won't be First Lady to a corpse."
Eric chortled bitterly. “You should both know me well enough by now to know I don't respond well to ultimatums."
"I'm guessing that means your answer's no?” Nick asked.
"I won't be dictated to in my own home."
"Well, excuse me,” Ally retorted, “but it's our home too."
"Not if you leave me it isn't.” Sitting down, he turned his attention back to the pile of paperwork on his desk. “As they say in Seneca Falls, ‘don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.’”
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 15
Three Tickets to Paradise:
Without Eric
Nick and Ally packed their things and moved into Nick's apartment the next morning. A stale, musty smell smacked them in the face as they came through the door, and she headed straight for the living room window, flinging it open. “God, when were you here last?” she wondered aloud.
"Um ... Christmastime, I think.” Stepping over to the kitchen table, he flipped through a stack of old unopened junk mail. “Actually, more like Thanksgiving."
Glancing around the room, it looked like the place had been abandoned for years. The bookshelves stood half empty, moth-eaten holes gaped in the carpet and a heavy coat of dust clung to everything. The kitchen and bedroom hadn't fared much better.
"Good thing you've got all your utilities included with the rent, or we'd be stumbling around in the dark with candles in our hands,” she said, shooting Nick a resigned look. “Which doesn't sound so bad, now that I think about it."
"Oh, c'mon, once we break out the vacuum and the lemon Pledge, it'll all shine up good as new."
As usual, Nick's outlook proved a bit too optimistic. Even with their combined elbow grease, it took several hours of intensive cleaning before the apartment appeared livable again. Ally took a well-deserved shower while Nick ducked out to the little mom-and-pop grocery store on the corner to pick up some food, since they'd found nothing left in the kitchen cupboards but stale soda crackers, a half-empty bag of Starbuck's coffee and a few expired cans of chicken noodle soup.
They made sandwiches and sat at the kitchen table, eating in silence and without much enthusiasm. “I'll start looking for another place in the next day or so,” she said at last.
"There's no need for that. You know you can stay here as long as you want."
"Okay. I'll sleep on the couch."
"Why would you want to do that, when I've got a comfortable bed that's big enough for both of us?"
She put down her sandwich and looked at him. “After what's happened, I didn't want to just assume we'd be staying together."
"Ally, I still love you. Breaking up with Eric hasn't changed that."
"Well, I just wanted to be sure.” She sighed. “But you know, t
his place is a bit small for two people. I'm sure Holly wouldn't mind putting me up for a while, until we have time to find something else."
"Let's see how it goes, okay? I'm too tired to think about moving again right now.” He finished off his first can of soda, then popped open another. “But I know what you mean about the space issue. I need to clear some room out here for an office so I can get started on the next book. The research alone is going to be a killer, and I'd sort of hoped I could get you to help me with it."
"Really?” That perked her right up. “Sounds interesting, but I should probably try to get a paying gig so I can contribute something to the rent."
"Oh, I'll pay you. Not a lot, but enough to keep you afloat until you get back on staff with the Herald. And don't worry about the rent. I'm expecting my advance within the next week or so."
They spent the rest of the afternoon doing laundry, putting fresh sheets on the bed and rearranging the bedroom closet to make room for her clothes. They'd just about decided to call it quits and head out for dinner when Holly showed up, lugging two large pepperoni pizzas and a six-pack of St. Pauli Girl. Nick scarfed down a few slices before retiring to the bedroom with his laptop to squeeze in some work, leaving Ally and Holly alone in the living room.
"So how're you holding up?” Holly asked, casting a stink-eyed glance around the apartment. “I guess this is all kind of a comedown after two years of living in the Courtland Towers penthouse."
Ally shrugged. “I'll get used to it. Right now I'm still a little numb."
"I can imagine. I knew Eric could behave like a jerk sometimes, but he always seemed so devoted to you and Nick. I can't believe he threw you both out like that."
"He didn't throw us out. We left."
Holly's eyes widened. “You what?"
"We told him we'd leave if he insisted on going back to Washington, so ... here we are."
She let out a long whistle. “If you don't mind me saying, that's going a bit far to prove a point."
"Well, if I'd stopped to think about it, I probably wouldn't have had the nerve."
"So what are you going to do next?"
"I haven't had a chance to think that far ahead.” Sighing, she took another slug of beer. “I guess I'll have to file for divorce."
"If it's any consolation, you should be sitting pretty once you get your settlement."
Ally shook her head. “I signed a prenuptial agreement. If we're not married at least five years, I walk away with nothing."
"Yeah, well, prenups are made to be broken. You could still duke it out in court."
"I don't want to do that. His first wife spent two years dragging him through the courts, trying to suck every last dollar out of him. I'd rather not have him remembering me as one more gold-digger."
"My God,” Holly breathed, giving her an incredulous look, “even after everything he's put you through, you're still in love with the guy."
"I am,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly burning. “And I can't believe I'm going to spend the rest of my life without him."
They talked until they'd polished off the six-pack, leaving Holly so wobbly on her feet she had to call a cab to take her home. Ally tossed the empties and staggered to the bathroom to get ready for bed, sticking out her tongue at her fragmented reflection in the cracked vanity mirror.
Nick put aside his laptop, giving her a concerned look when she came in and flopped listlessly down on the bed. “Just how many beers did you have?"
"Too many, or not enough. I'm not sure which."
"You know that stuff's not good for you."
"This was a special occasion. Believe me, it's even more depressing being depressed when you're sober."
He stroked her hair gently for a moment before getting up. Closing her eyes, she lay there listening to the faint, incessant pinging between her ears until he finished using the bathroom and came back to bed, flicking off the light.
The mattress sagged in the middle as he scooted over to spoon behind her. “You okay?"
"No.” She could still feel tears burning her eyes, but hadn't the will or the energy to let them flow. It was just as well; she'd done enough crying these last few weeks. “Nick ... did we do the right thing?"
"What else could we have done?"
"Stayed,” she replied bleakly. “We could have stayed, and tried our best to convince him he was making a mistake."
"We already tried that, and he wouldn't listen."
"We did it the wrong way. We challenged him."
"Ally, you know he wasn't about to budge. He was bound and determined to go back to Washington, no matter what we did or said. So we took a stand and we stuck to it. That's all we could do."
"So it was all some stupid contest to see which of us could be the most pigheaded? Well, when you figure out who won, let me know."
"Ally, don't—"
"You know, we've both had so many blowups with Eric over the years, but even when things got bad, I always had this glimmer of hope that we'd find our way back from it. But this time ... I'm not sure."
"Maybe he'll come around,” Nick murmured. “But he's been obsessed with becoming president for as long as I've known him. It's the one thing in his life that he's had to fight for tooth and nail. I think that's why he wants it so much. It's not something he inherited, or something he can walk into a store and buy. If he wins, he'll know it's because he earned it."
"And that's worth so much to him, he's willing to lose everything else?” Turning over, she wrapped her arms around him with a hollow sigh. “G-God, Nick, it just hurts so much..."
"I know,” he whispered. “I know."
* * * *
Luckily, for the next few weeks, Ally kept herself far too busy to dwell on how miserable she felt. She and Nick set up a small office in the living room and dove head-first into the new book. They slogged through long hours on the initial research, tumbling into bed in the wee hours of the morning most nights, too exhausted to do anything but kiss each other good night and fall into a welcome coma.
They only ventured out once or twice a week to do laundry and pick up groceries, but the press no longer dogged their every step. In fact, to her immense relief, the scandal appeared to have dropped out of the papers and off the airwaves altogether. It was a relief not having to put on a baseball cap and sunglasses every time she needed to go buy tampons or a carton of milk.
It was also a relief living like a normal person again, without a bodyguard following her around everywhere. She'd forgotten the simple pleasure of browsing in a bookstore or taking a leisurely walk down the street. She could dress any way she liked now, without worrying that people would recognize her in her faded jeans and ratty old t-shirt. She'd stopped doing so many things when she'd married Eric, either because she knew they wouldn't interest him, or he wouldn't approve—upholding the Courtland name bore a certain responsibility, after all. She hadn't realized how circumscribed her life had become until she'd had a fresh taste of the freedom she once took for granted.
She met her father for lunch on his birthday at the end of October. He seemed glad to see her, though she had to suppress her shock at how much grayer he looked than when she'd last seen him at Christmas. She could feel tension crackling in the air between them when they sat down and had a sudden sick feeling she knew why.
He didn't say anything until the waiter scurried off to fetch their drinks. “I haven't heard from you in months."
"I know, it's just been insanely busy."
"Too busy to let me know your face was about to be splashed all over the tabloids before I had to see it on every goddamned newsstand in the city?"
It hit her like an iron fist in the gut, though she should have known to expect it. She should have talked to him weeks ago about the scandal and Eric's health problems, although it was probably best not to mention the latter now. “Dad, look, I didn't know about it myself until it had already hit—"
"You have no idea what it's been like for me. My business took a fift
y percent drop last month. I had to get my home phone number changed twice because reporters had it ringing off the hook. And every time I tried to call you, your line was busy."
Of course, it would've helped if she'd bothered to give him their new number. “I'm sorry,” she whispered miserably. “I really am."
"Are you? I mean, for God's sake, Allison, wasn't being married to one of the richest men in the country enough? You had to go and sleep with Nick too? You and Eric?"
"You know how I feel about Nick, Dad. I've loved him since college. But I love Eric too. I couldn't choose between them. And if that makes me a whore in your eyes, so be it."
He flinched. “I would never call you that. You're my daughter, and I'll always love you no matter what you do, but...” He shook his head, making a helpless gesture. “I'm sixty years old, sweetheart. I was raised to believe that marriage meant one man, one woman. And I know love's complicated, but this isn't something I can wrap my mind around."
"Well, you're right about the complicated part.” She forced a pallid smile. “And I guess you should know about this before it hits the headlines too, but ... Eric and I have separated."
"Oh, I'm sorry. When did this happen?"
"About a month ago. And it wasn't because of Nick, even though I'm living with Nick right now."
"You left your husband for another man, but it's not the other man's fault?"
"I didn't leave Eric for anybody, except maybe myself.” The waiter brought their glasses of iced tea, and she paused to take a thoughtful sip. “Eric has a very forceful personality, and he's used to getting his own way. He bulldozes over everybody, whether he means to or not. It's easy to lose a sense of your own identity when you're around him. I'm only just starting to feel like myself again."
"So you're planning to divorce?"
"Eventually. I suppose we'll talk about it when he gets back from Washington."
"What do you mean, when he gets back from Washington? He's here in the city now—in fact, he's supposed to give a press conference in about half an hour."
She stared at him. “Wh-What? Where did you hear that?"
