by Mary Whitney
“We’re taking a little break. What about Felicity? I mean Lady Felicity.”
A little break! I grinned and sat up in bed. A break usually ended with a break-up. Brilliant! I needed to answer her question about Felicity, though, and decided to sidestep the issue—for different reasons now entirely. It would be a disaster if Nicki knew Fel was on to something. “Now, be nice…” I said playfully.
“You’ve got to be kidding me after the crap she said to me.”
“You don’t need to be angry with her. I’m angry enough for both of us, and I gave her a right bollocking.” A worthy lie, given I didn’t want Nicki antagonizing her.
“So did you kiss and make up?” she asked pointedly.
“Not really.” I had to clear my throat to hide my laughter. “Do you actually want to talk about this?”
“Not really.”
“Seriously, Nicki, I want to see you again. When can we spend some time together? Next weekend?”
“Um, I’d like that, but my dad visits next weekend.”
“That’s nice.” I had never met her father when I’d lived in Bellaire, given that he lived in Chicago and had been a bit removed from her life.
“Yeah, he’s coming for a visit. He arrives on Friday morning and leaves Sunday afternoon.”
Before I could catch myself, I blurted out what was at the top of my mind. “Will you two be going out with Juan Carlos?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, wincing at my own words. Fuck! Why did I ask that? I sound like a jealous bastard.
“No.” Her voice was low and serious. “Given what’s going on with Juan Carlos and me right now, I don’t think it’s appropriate to go out with my dad together. There’d just be too much expectation around it.”
“Ah. Okay,” I said as my grin returned. It appeared that old JC was almost out of the picture. Things were looking up.
By the end of the hotel room call, Nicki had agreed to come to see David and me play football, even bringing Lisa along. Over the week that followed, Nicki and I would exchange a few texts or have a short call, but I didn’t push her. Since I already had a date on the books and we were both busy, I didn’t see a reason to. That changed on the following Friday.
At the daily press briefing that morning in the White House, I noticed a gray-haired, stern-looking man off to one side of the room. I didn’t recognize him, and at first thought he was a new member of the press—maybe an older reporter filling in for someone. When I asked Matthew my question that day, I noticed the older gentleman give me a curious look.
It was only after the briefing when I saw Nicki introducing him to everyone that I realized who he was; they shared a resemblance. I knew what to do. If there was ever a sign I could give her that I was serious, reaching out to her father had to be near the top.
When I started walking toward the two of them, she gave me a pensive glance. Seconds later, she hurriedly ushered her father out of the room. I frowned. What happened there?
I needed to do some follow-up work at the White House that morning, so I put it out of my mind as I interviewed one of President Logan’s advisors. Then, my cameraman shot the introductory footage for my report from the White House lawn. When I finished the shoot, I spotted Nicki walking with her father. No longer caring what her odd look toward me might’ve meant, I strode toward them.
Nicki didn’t see me come from behind, so she startled when I greeted her. “Good morning, Nicki.”
The two turned around to face me. Her father’s brow furrowed, and she fumbled. “Oh…uh. Morning, Adam.”
Setting her mouth in a determined smile, she introduced us. “Adam, this is my father, Kevin Johnson. Dad, this is Adam Kincaid…with the BBC.”
At once, I extended my hand to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” I would’ve called the man “sir” even if he weren’t Nicki’s father. He was older, serious, and dressed so conservatively that he deserved nothing less.
Shaking my hand, he composed his features, but the suspicion didn’t entirely leave his face as he obviously mulled something over. “Good morning, Adam. Your name. It sounds familiar. Why is that?”
I glanced at Nicki, who seemed more nervous and grieved than I’d ever seen her. I was going to comment on my being on TV, but her expression hardened, and she answered him first. “Dad, Adam lived in Bellaire for a while when I was in high school.”
For a brief moment, the man withdrew his cold stare from me. He eyed Nicki and then turned back to me, the bastard who’d broken his little girl’s heart. There was no way to change the facts, but I told him something he most likely didn’t know. “Meeting Nicki was the best part of my year in the States.”
Nicki pursed her lips and faked a glance at her watch. “Yeah, that was a fun year. Dad, we need to get going if you’re going to get to your lunch in Alexandria.”
He nodded quietly at me. “Nice to meet you, Adam.” His eyes darted over to Nicki as he added, “After all these years.”
“Yes, you too, sir. Enjoy your holiday. Bye, Nicki.”
“So long,” she said as she maneuvered her father in the opposite direction.
Knowing that Nicki was spending the weekend with her dad, I didn’t contact her on Saturday. The encounter with her father had been strained enough. I didn’t want to make things worse for her.
When I’d told David about Nicki bringing Lisa along on Sunday, he was pleased. “Just the extra nudge I need for that one. She’s been toying with me, but I like it.”
“I think this is the first time you’ve ever needed any help.”
“True, but I’m confident. Besides, I like the anticipation. I think she does, too. We can play her little game for as long as she feels like it.”
“That might be a long time.”
“Pfft. Don’t care. It’s fun—like I’m fifteen again. I kiss her. She turns the other cheek. I cop a little feel. She swipes my hand away. Then she’s a tease and accidentally rubs against me.”
“Sounds like a fun game.”
“It is. And it’s only a matter of time, cuz. Just a matter of time…”
But as our match on Sunday neared the end, I began to wonder if Nicki and Lisa would show up. Dribbling down the pitch, I tried to concentrate on the ball rather than on Nicki as I passed it toward David. We were playing a bunch of complacent French and lazy Americans, who were no match for the disciplined, fierce style of play of the Germans, Brazilians, and David on our makeshift team. David seized my pass and connected with his left, kicking the ball straight past the blond head of the French goalie.
In true dramatic David fashion, he fell on his knees and stripped off his shirt. Then he jumped up, hugging anyone and everyone he could. I ran over and gave him a high-five followed by a slap on his back. With so little time left on the clock, we quickly got back to work and finished off the match in a few minutes.
As we walked back to the sidelines, I pulled the sweaty shirt off my back before I noticed Nicki and Lisa standing not far from where we’d dumped our gear. They appeared to be joking around—probably taking the piss out of us. David saw them, too, and called out, “Did you see my goal, princess?”
“I did,” Lisa said flatly.
Then I saw what David meant by Lisa being a tease despite her words. When he stood before her, she slowly ran a finger down his chest. “You need a shower.”
“Only if you’ll join me,” he said as he grabbed her for a celebratory dance.
“Gross! Don’t touch me.” She swatted him back. “You stink.”
“You’re a doctor. You’re not supposed to mind the human body.”
“I don’t, but I prefer them clean.”
I turned to Nicki, who was laughing at her friend. While David and Lisa continued to spar, I said, “Thanks for coming out here.”
“Thanks for the invitation.”
We made small talk about the match and the day. I didn’t bring up her dad. In fact, I was trying to work out where Nicki was looking—or, more notably, where she wasn’t. S
he was a good deal shorter than me, even more so when she wasn’t wearing heels, so she now stood eye level with my chest but seemed to focus either over my head or into the distance. Then I understood.
“I hate to be presumptuous like my incorrigible cousin, but I do get the feeling you’re averting your eyes.”
She acted annoyed, but a smile betrayed her. “No. Why would you say that?”
“So it’s not because I’m standing here half-naked?”
“Can you not say that word?” She smirked and looked away.
“Oh, forgive me. I know how difficult this must be for you.”
“Will you please just put on a shirt?”
“Sure. Give me a second.” I grabbed a towel out of my bag to dry myself off. As I rubbed away the sweat, I nodded across the pitch and said, “You can look over there if this gets to be too much.”
“Whatever.”
I pulled on a clean shirt, then turned to her. She was dressed in shorts, trainers, and a University of Chicago sweatshirt and had her hair pulled back in an elastic band. I tousled her ponytail. “When your hair is tied up like this, you look seventeen again.”
She grinned. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re prettier now, though.”
Her mouth twitched like she was debating whether to say something. Tentatively touching her hair, she said, “Well, you don’t look seventeen anymore either.”
“Are you saying I look old?”
“No.” She twitched her mouth again. “You’ve just…changed since then.”
“Ah! Not how you remember me? Not a skinny lad anymore?” My healthy male ego thoroughly enjoyed the fact that Nicki had spent some time evaluating my body. “And you like that, do you now?”
Nicki shifted her weight and pretended to whistle. “Doo-dee-doo. I’m not answering that.”
“I’m sorry. It was cruel of me to bring it up, given your inability to keep your hands to yourself.”
“That joke only has so much life in it,” she said, shaking her head.
“Not if you pounce on me again.”
“Believe me, I can control myself.”
I winked at her. “It’s good that one of us can.”
After David and I got our gear together, we all followed our teammates in our respective cars up to a dive Mexican joint on the outskirts of Adams-Morgan. In his irrational exuberance, David invited the other team, too, who happily joined us. We were a giant, loud table, which grew as the other players’ girlfriends and friends arrived. The scene seemed to put Nicki at ease. The two of us were out in public together, but it was with a big, boisterous group. No one could tell where she fit in the picture.
On the other hand, I was certain both Nicki and I were aware of what was going on between us. We mainly kept our conversation to ourselves, only joining in the laughter occasionally. When David began to teach everyone how to do tequila shots, I cheered him on, but he soon crashed and burned. He tried to get Lisa to let him do a body shot on her, to which she reacted with an insulted sneer. Dr. Roberts wasn’t about to be one of his playthings.
Even he must’ve feared that he’d crossed a line, because he immediately went from provocative flirt to ardent pursuer. I watched him whisper God knows what sort of smarmy bullshit in her ear. Whatever he said didn’t work, however; she appeared resolutely unimpressed.
Nicki laughed. “David needs to go back to spending time with Lisa alone. He might’ve done some permanent damage trying to show her off.”
“I’m sure she’ll forgive him.” I arched an eyebrow. “Maybe we could do a body shot?”
“Ha!”
“Well, say we were at a beach in Mexico and you were in a bikini…”
Nicki took a sip of her margarita and said, “I don’t wear bikinis, for starters.”
“Why ever not?” I gave her an admiring look. “You’ve got a great body.”
The line between her eyes deepened as she gazed at me. Then she glanced down and gave the signal that didn’t need any words. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she mumbled, “My scars.”
I wanted to kill myself right then and there. Of course I remembered her scars from the accident. I wouldn’t forget that about her. She’d been too embarrassed by them to wear a bikini back then as well. She must think I’m a total shit. Fuck! I’m such an arsehole!
“Nicki, I’m so sorry. I’m such a bloody idiot. I swear I haven’t forgotten. It just came out because you’re so pretty and—”
“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t expect you to remember.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
Not expect me to remember? How could she think that? “How could I forget? I didn’t, I promise. I—”
“Please, let’s just drop it. It really doesn’t matter.”
I couldn’t just drop it, though. Putting my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her to me and kissed the top of her head. Then, murmuring into her hair, I reminded her, “I told you many times I didn’t care about a few silly scars. I still don’t.”
For a moment, I worried I would be rebuffed as badly as David had been, but Nicki reacted just the opposite of Lisa. She nuzzled into my chest. “I know,” I could faintly hear her say.
In reality, we stayed like that for maybe thirty seconds, yet to me it felt wonderfully long. And a memory came back that I hadn’t thought of in at least a decade. It was the moment I’d realized Nicki would no longer be mine.
“Why are you still wearing this?” I asked, tugging on her T-shirt as we stood before the Gulf of Mexico. The warm Gulf water was too hot for my English and Scottish blood.
Nicki touched her shirt hem like it wasn’t long enough. “I don’t have a one-piece. My scars look pretty bad in a swimsuit.”
She could be ridiculously self-conscious sometimes, so I frowned and pulled the shirt over her head. She covered her torso with her arms and said, “See? I told you.”
When she’d said, “See,” I did as I was told and gave her an objective look, and all I saw was the wonderful girl I was losing. My throat tightened, knowing this would be the last time we’d ever be at a beach together. I felt the need to give her some advice.
“Any tosser who can’t see past a few silly marks isn’t worth your time. I hope you know that.”
Certain I was on the brink of tears, I closed my eyes and dove into the safety of the waves.
But now, here she was, back in my arms, and I wasn’t going to let go. The embrace was long enough that I saw both David and Lisa give us an enquiring eye. Nicki didn’t seem to notice, though. She still looked down as she pulled away, then straightened up and gave me an appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
We talked more, and eventually I found the right time to ask, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what was that with your father on Friday? It seemed like an odd conversation.”
“It was.”
“What happened?”
She scrunched her face up as she thought. After the pause, she declared, “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Why not?”
“It’s about after you left and…”
I waited a moment, but she never finished her sentence. “Nicki, I don’t want to talk about when I left either.” It was true. I was dismayed, and the more time I spent with her, the less I wanted to talk about how we’d ended things between us. Yet the past kept coming up. There was no way around it, so I pleaded, “But if we’re going to move forward, I think we need to…at least once.”
She was quiet as her eyes searched the room, seemingly focused on nothing. Eventually she said, “Okay, but not tonight. Not here.”
“When?”
“Next weekend. Come over on Saturday.” She smiled toward David. “And bring him. He’ll probably still be in the doghouse.”
“You’ve got a date, then.”
“It’s not a date,” she said, waving her finger at me.
“Okay. It’s not a date. It’s dinner at an old friend’s.”
“Exactly.”
The following weekend, David and I were once again at Nicki’s door. Lisa answered it, dressed just as casually as last time but now in a tight white T-shirt and jeans.
David nodded approvingly at her shape. “Evening, Lisa. You look absolutely lovely.”
“You called me by name. That’s a surprise.”
“I know your name.” He gave her a sly smile. “You’re my angel.”
His angel ignored him. “Hi, Adam. Come on in.”
“Evening, Lisa. Where’s Nicki?”
“In the kitchen, cooking.”
“She didn’t have to cook. She worked all day. I told her just to order takeaway.”
“I said the same thing, but she wanted to cook,” said Lisa, holding up her hands helplessly. “Pasta or something. She kicked me out of the kitchen.”
Pointing to the paper bag he carried, David said, “We brought a few bottles of wine.”
“A few?” Lisa eyed him.
He smiled and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “Well, one is a special bottle for you.” He held it out to her, saying, “Congratulations.”
I had no idea what he was up to, but I was impressed. Her entire demeanor changed as she cooed, “Aw, thanks, David. That’s really sweet.”
Proud of himself, David informed me, “She just got a paper published in a big journal.”
She looked up at him warily. “It’s thoughtful of you to remember.”
Before David could make another pass, I said, “That’s wonderful news. Then we have something to celebrate tonight.”
Lisa led us into the kitchen, where Nicki was stirring a pot at the stove. She looked cute, wearing a little dress and apron and her hair pulled up. We’d talked a few times that week, but I’d missed her. This time I went in for the kiss on the cheek.
“Evening.”
“Hi.” She smiled. “It’s good to see you.”
I peered into the simmering pot. “Hmm. Tomato sauce for pasta?”
“Hence the apron. It’s a little messy.”
“You look lovely tonight,” I said, touching her arm.
