“Mom, I can barely hear you.”
“We’re coming to visit you!” she squeals.
“What? You’re coming to New York? When?” I never imagined that my family would be able to come visit me. How is this possible? They’re losing the house. They don’t have money to fly to New York.
“We’ll be there in a few hours. We had a stop in Houston.”
“Mom, how?"
“Your boss invited us! He’s so lovely. He said he felt horrible about keeping you from visiting over the holidays that he wanted to fly us out there to visit.”
“Nicholas?” He didn’t keep me from flying back home. My lack of funds did, and I'm pretty damn sure I didn't mention either to him.
“Yes, that’s him.” I hear another muffled voice come over the phone. “Sweetie, I have to go. We’re getting ready to board the plane.”
“Do I need to get a cab for you guys?”
“No, your boss said he has everything arranged. We’ll call you when we land.”
He has arranged everything? I haven't spoken to Nicholas since I left Tiffany’s without picking up Alison’s ring. Why would he do this for me?
"I'll leave work early and we'll meet for dinner," I suggest.
"Sounds wonderful! See you soon."
As I exit the bathroom I hear my mother's rich laughter fill the restaurant dining room. She must be enjoying the champagne she ordered just a little too much because she's starting to snort. It's still hard to believe that my dad and mom are in New York. I didn't think I would ever get them to come visit me. The only downside to having them here is that I'm not exactly sure how much more I can take of my mother asking me about Miles. She knows he's here in the city, but she's yet to mention that she was the one who gave him my address. I could kill her for telling him.
I wish I could thank Nicholas for bringing them here, but that would feel like I was breaking our unspoken-ceasefire agreement, and I just don’t want to disturb what have become relatively calm waters.
My chest deflates as I return to the dining room. Nicholas is standing in the middle of the restaurant dressed casually in jeans and a dark blue shirt. His hair is combed back in messy wet strands of golden silk. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes at the sight of him here, as I slowly make my way through the dining room back to our table. I shouldn't be crying, but I can't stop the threat of tears from choking me. I’m in agony, and he’s standing there looking normal and confident and so freakin' gorgeous.
He grins as my mother fawns over him. I stifle a chuckle as my father grips my mother's hand like she might take flight at any moment. I think even my dad can tell that Nicholas has a way of smooth-talking the ladies. My mother looks up and waves me over to the table. Anxiety eats away at my insides as I reach our table. I probably look like a mess. I inhale and then exhale, willing away my watery eyes.
Nicholas turns just in time to spot me heading their way. He half smiles at me, but his expression seems uncomfortable, maybe even pained?
“Rebecca?” The way he says my name makes my knees quiver. I try my best not to flush in front of my parents. My mother can sniff out butterfly nerves.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I wanted to stop by and make sure the restaurant was taking care of you guys.”
“Do you own it?” I ask, quickly scanning the room.
“No,” he says flatly.
“Oh.”
“The owner is a family friend. We come here often.” Nicholas lifts his hand as if to reach out to touch my face, but he quickly pulls away. “Well, I hope you have a wonderful time. I should go.”
It’s the sound of my mother’s voice that stops Nicholas in his tracks.
“Please stay and have lunch with us.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gellar…”
“Call me Patricia.”
Nicholas grins. “Thank you, Patricia, but I really must get back to the office.”
“Oh no, I insist that you stay,” mom says, pulling out a chair next to her. It takes all my strength not to laugh at the way she’s practically drooling over him. It seems even my mother isn’t immune to his charms, and by the frown on my father’s face, he isn’t too happy about it. Nicholas looks over at me and I know without a doubt that he’s wondering if any of this is making me uncomfortable.
“Please, stay,” I say. He hesitates and then nods before pulling out my chair for me. Nicholas takes the seat between my mother and me.
“It’s so nice that Rebecca is working for such a wonderful man,” mom says practically gushing. I look over at my father and his face turns a deeper shade of red. Poor dad.
“Your daughter is wonderful employee. In fact, she’s one of the best we’ve had at StoneHaven Publishing.” Nicholas reaches for his water and I notice a slight tremble in his hand.
“Are you feeling all right?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“Fine. Just nerves.”
“Nerves?” I ask surprised.
“Yes."
Nicholas is nervous? I look over at my mother, who’s wearing a frilly top, jeans, and open-toe wedges, and then at my father in his trucker hat, faded jeans and well-worn shirt. Why the hell would he be nervous? It’s just my parents. If anything, he should be embarrassed to be here. My mother isn’t exactly the most well-mannered person. A young waiter with spiky black hair comes to take our orders. I wait for my mother and father to order, carefully listening to their choices. I have no idea what the hell I want. Mario’s Italian Restaurant is supposed to be known for their lasagna and their fresh cannolas. I flip through the menu and suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me. Nicholas half smiles and then turns to the waiter.
“She’ll have the meat lasagna, extra cheese. I’ll have the crab raviolis. And we’ll take a bottle of Sori San Lorenzo Barbaresco please.” Without even thinking, I pass my menu to Nicholas and he hands them to the waiter.
There’s a strange silence as my mother’s eyes turn on me. I can feel her eyes glued to my face. Nicholas just ordered for the two of us. It’s seems like a normal thing for him, but I can tell by the confused look on my father’s face that this has a totally different meaning to them. Ordering for another person is usually a sign that you’re in a relationship. I’m pretty sure I even saw that in Cosmopolitan’s latest issue. Great.
“So, do you two go out often?” mom asks. Her question is seemingly innocent, but I know what she’s really asking is how long we’ve been sleeping together. I take the opportunity to steer the conversation away from us.
“Mom, how long do you guys think you’ll be in New York?” My mother looks at me with a dissatisfied expression. She was probably hoping to find out that my ovaries aren’t full of cobwebs anymore. That’s all I need. Pregnant by my engaged boss. How lovely.
“We’re thinking of staying another week,” my father says, piping in. “Would you like that, cupcake?” I blush at the overly affectionate nickname my father calls me by.
“Of course, Dad. That would be great.”
“Feel free to stay longer,” Nicholas says. “I would be more than happy to call The Somerset and let them know that you will be staying another week.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” mom chimes in.
“Nicholas, you don’t have to do that,” I whisper.
He turns to me and smiles politely before quickly squeezing my hand beneath the table. “It’s fine.”
Warmth spreads over my hand and just as quickly dissipates when he removes it. I want to reach out to him and tell him that I miss him, but I don't. It's too late. I have to forget the way he makes me feel and the feelings I've been struggling to pretend aren't real.
After two hours of sitting and listening to my mother drone on and on, we finally leave Mario's. It doesn't surprise me that Nicholas immediately takes the bill and tells the waiter to charge it to his account. I think it's the icing on the cake for my mother. She's head over heels for him. At one point she even tells Nicholas that she would love to see me with some
one with his old-fashioned good manners. I stop her before she embarrasses me any further, but the words are already out there, and I can sense a growing tension between Nicholas and me. The words he said to me back at the gallery opening repeat in my head like a broken record. We're meant to be together. I tried fighting it. You tried fighting it, but we have to stop. It's useless. Give in. I have.
I’m not sure how Nicholas put up with my mother’s barrage of questions, but he did, and he never looked annoyed. The only time he seemed to fidget was when my mother asked him about Alison. For the most part, Nicholas kept his calm and cool demeanor, but he definitely avoided questions about her. And when he couldn’t avoid the question, he quickly changed the subject once he’d answered it. It didn't bother me that he didn't want to talk about her. In fact, I was grateful. I didn't want to hear him talk about her. It's already hard enough pretending like I'm okay.
“Thank you for lunch," I say as Nicholas holds open the door for me.
He looks down at his cellphone and then back up at me. "You're welcome."
I can't help but wonder if he was texting Alison.
"Thank you for putting up with all of my mother's questions."
“She’s sweet. I like her,” he says with an honest grin.
“I should’ve introduced you two sooner," I joke.
Nicholas stops for a moment. “I should probably go." I sigh internally, knowing the moment wouldn’t last. He's still angry with me, and I don't blame him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then for the gala." Nicholas hands me a card and I notice the name The Somerset on the front with a delicate swan imprinted on the front.
“Please let your parents know I set up a room for them."
"I will."
Before leaving, Nicholas takes my mother's hand and kisses it. I watch in amazement as she nearly swoons at his feet. Oh, my God, Mom! There’s something about this man that makes women melt in their panties, and the worst part is, he totally knows it.
“It was such a pleasure to meet you,” she says, blushing. "Rebecca never mentioned how handsome you were.” After a few minutes of watching them back and forth, Nicholas finally manages to break away, apologizing for having to return to the office. He quickly shakes my father's hand, and I have to bite back a laugh as my father tightens his grip on him. A sharp pang hits me at the memory of my father doing the same gesture with Miles. I don't think my father ever really liked Miles, and I always thought it was because he flinched when my dad gripped his hand. He always used to tell me you could tell a lot about a man by his handshake. The air is silent as the two have a stare off. Nicholas keeps his cool, and after a few moments, my father finally breaks the awkward silence.
"Thank you," dad says. "Take care of my daughter."
I nearly die of embarrassment, but Nicholas's strained voice sends an electric shiver up my spine.
"Always," he says. A strange feeling blossoms inside me, though it takes me a moment to recognize what the feeling is: hope.
We’re halfway to The Somerset when my mother pulls me to the side. She points out a pair of Manolo Blahniks and waves over to my father, letting him know that we’re going inside the upscale boutique store. She's never been into expensive shoes, so I know this is just a detour so that she can get me alone and interrogate me about Nicholas. She ushers me into the two-story building and then toward the back of the posh-looking store filled with expertly-placed white, antique chandeliers, a white faux bearskin rug, and red wall accents. This hardly looks like a place that my mom would be drawn to, so I know her sole mission is to corner me about what she witnessed back at the restaurant.
I'm dreading every second leading up to this awkward encounter.
My mother has the talent and ability to read me like an open book. And unfortunately, this is a chapter in my life that I wish I could close. It’s hard enough dealing with the raw emotions I feel every time I see Nicholas. I shouldn’t regret telling him to stay away because it was the right thing to do. Right? I don’t want to be the other woman. I deserve better than that, and it would only serve to slowly destroy us both. So, why is it that I can’t help but feel like it was the worst decision I’ve ever made?
A lovely petite sales associate walks over and asks us if we need help, but my mother just waves her off like she’s a pesky fly. I silently pray for strength and patience as my mother furrows her brow, like she’s trying to telepathically extract information from my brain. It’s not hard to see that she’s annoyed by the way she purses her lips. I scan the room, doing my best to avoid eye contact with the woman. She's like a T-Rex; if I don't move, maybe she won't see me. I wish in this moment, more than any other time in my life, that I could just fade into my surroundings and avoid detection, but she grabs my hand before I even have a chance to thwart her inquiries.
"Are you sleeping with him?" my mom asks, eyeing me suspiciously, as if horns might sprout from my head.
“With who?”
“Rebecca Elizabeth Gellar, you know exactly to whom I’m referring.”
“Actually, I don’t,” I lie.
“Your boss.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Mother, don’t you think if I was sleeping with a man, that I would know?”
Obviously exasperated, she presses on, “I think you’re lying to me.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice that tells me her feelings are hurt. I hate lying to her, but she’s far too inquisitive. And anyway, what does it matter? It’s in the past. He’s getting married, and we’ll never have anything more between us. Wanting desperately to end this line of questioning, I look over at a pair of red heels with crystals embedded on the front. They would fit perfectly with my costume for the gala.
“These are beautiful,” I say, trying to distract my mother from asking any more impertinent questions, but she quickly catches on.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’s very handsome and very sweet.”
“I’ll let him know you think so,” I mutter.
"What?"
"Nothing."
“I just want you to be happy,” she says. “I think he’s in love with you.” She grabs the red heels from my hand, forcing me to look at her.
“What?” In love with me? No.
She reaches out and cups my face. Her eyes start to water but she quickly wipes the tears away and fixes the collar of my shirt. There’s something she’s not telling me. My mother isn’t normally one to cry.
“What is it?” I ask. “Why are you crying?”
My mother desperately tries to wipe away the tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s nothing. I just think you should go fix things with him.”
“I’ve been so stupid, mom,” I moan.
“You’re not stupid.”
“I told him what was between us was just physical.”
“So you have been together?”
“Mom…”
She laughs. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you.”
“It’s too late. It’s always been too late. He’s engaged to someone else and he's going to marry her. It's just complicated with the way things are now, but there’s no changing it.”
“But he loves you?”
No, Nicholas must think the worst of me, and that’s probably why he’s been so distant. I need to talk to him and apologize for what I said. This visit with my parents is another reminder that he’s done so much for me. He flew them out here, paid for our lunch, and he’s putting them up in a hotel. He’s gone out of his way to make sure that they have been well attended to. It’s too much. And why? Why did he do all this for people he doesn’t even know?
“Mom, I need to go. Can you tell dad that I will talk with you both after the gala?”
“But, Becca, I…”
“Please, mom. I just really need to be alone for a little while.”
I slip out of the store before my dad can spot me and I head back to the apartment. It’s a long walk, but I need the time to think th
ings through.
“A woman like her always has a price."
The sound of Nicholas's father startles me as I head past one of the conference rooms on my floor. The bitter words come out in a hushed voice just loud enough to prick my ears. I peep between the cracks of the conference room door and spot Nicholas sitting in one of the chairs with his hand poised against his face. He taps his stylus on the edge of his tablet with a look of impatience and irritation.
"What are you talking about now?" Nicholas asks, throwing up his hands in exasperation.
"I found these in your desk." I watch as Stefan takes a seat next to Nicholas and slides over a manila folder, opening in front of him. Nicholas stares at it with a surprise glance. I peer in closer trying to make out what the folder says, if anything, but I'm just too far away.
Stefan watches his son with a critical glare and a surprising amount of hostility. "Do you have an explanation for this?"
"Not one you're going to like," Nicholas says.
“She played you for a fool, son."
"I willingly wrote the check to her parents."
My heart palpitates at the words: check and parents. What the hell is he talking about? Why the hell would Nicholas write a $60,000 check to my parents? Is he sending my parents money to get rid of me? My stomach turns at the thought of him wanting me to leave. No, my mother would’ve said something if he was trying to get me to leave. Instead she encouraged me to talk to him about my feelings.
"Why would you do something like that? For that amount of money?"
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nicholas says.
“No, it really isn’t. I hired her to help keep you on track, but now she's become an overwhelming distraction, and she's costing this company money.”
“You're not firing her.” Nicholas says with a look of sheer contempt.
I step back from the door trying my best to hold in my tears. Be strong. Don’t cry. My dreams of working at this prestigious company are quickly disintegrating. As I turn to leave, I hear Stefan's angry voice rising in pitch.
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 12
