by Mary Whitney
“Thanks.” She tilted her head shyly away before handing me the spoon. “You stir. I need to get the pasta going.”
Like our last dinner together, the four of us had a great time. When the meal finally ended, Lisa even sent Nicki and me away again so she and David could clean—and whatever else they did when alone. I suggested to Nicki we go outside.
She answered, “Sure,” then grabbed a full bottle of wine.
“The whole bottle?” I smiled.
She flashed me a look. “If we have to talk, I might need it.”
I put my arm around her shoulder and laughed. “I might need it, too.” When we got out on the balcony, I realized it wasn’t the location I’d really like to have a tough conversation. We needed to be in a safe place—somewhere we could be close. I had a vision of being on her bed, but I knew that was out of the question. Then I spotted the large chaise lounge in the corner. Once I’d placed our glasses and bottle of wine on the side table, I pulled her toward the chair. “Over here this time.”
She saw where I was headed and balked, but I tugged on her arm. “Oh…okay,” she said.
I lay down, taking her with me. She willingly curled up next to me, and I kept an arm around her. “Now this is more like it.”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s more than nice.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk much this week.”
“We were both busy.” After a brief hesitation, I ventured, “What’s going on with Juan Carlos?”
“We’re in touch, though not like before. And Felicity?”
In touch? She’s “in touch” with the sorry arse? A pathetic phrase like that was music to my ears. For all intents and purposes, they’d broken up, though, for whatever reason, she wasn’t quite willing to recognize it. I wanted to break out another bottle of champagne and tell her that hopefully Felicity was on a yacht in the Aegean bonking a Greek senior citizen, but I had to be more tactical than that. I couldn’t let Felicity completely drop out of the picture just yet.
In measuring my response, I faintly remembered seeing her name on a list of international correspondents. “She’s been sent on assignment to Indonesia. We haven’t been talking much because of that.”
“Only because of that?”
“No, of course not.” I squeezed Nicki’s arm. “I think the fact we’re together tonight is a sign there are other reasons.” I left it at that, giving her an opening to say more.
She didn’t. Instead, she was quiet, and I knew I’d have to push the conversation along. “So what about your dad? What does he know of me?”
Without looking at me, she spoke softly, “It seems so long ago. Well, after you were gone, I hated being in Bellaire. I didn’t spend much time with my friends when I was there, and I ended up at Dad’s in Chicago a lot.”
“So that’s how he knows me? You talked?”
“No, not really. He must’ve gotten your name from Mom. That’s why your name rang a bell with him. He never forgets anything.”
“He must not. He wasn’t overly friendly.”
She finally looked at me and smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He was surprised to see you, but I was the one he interrogated.”
“What did you say about us…now?”
“That we’re friends.” Her eyes landed on my arm around her, and she chuckled. “Close friends.”
My reporter’s instinct took over. I had to ask, “And did he believe you?”
“At first…but when I told him Juan Carlos and I were taking a break, he became suspicious. He warned me up, down, and sideways about what might happen to me professionally and also to Logan.”
“So he probably doesn’t think much of me.”
“Dad doesn’t think much of anyone. He’s innately suspicious.”
“So why did you spend so much time with him in high school?”
“Because he left me alone.”
Her words weren’t directed at me, but they were damning. I felt like a complete arse. I wanted to explain myself to her—tell her what had happened. I had never rehearsed how the conversation would go or even what I might say—other than that I’d apologize for being a bloody idiot. I didn’t want to begin there, though. Instead, I started at the beginning.
“Yeah, for a while all I wanted to do was be alone—from the moment I left your house. I remember I went home, where my family was waiting for me beside the hired car we took to the airport. I must’ve looked like utter shit from crying.” I patted her bum and waggled my eyebrows appreciatively. “And from rolling around in bed with you all night.”
“Yeah, we did some of that, didn’t we?” Nicki giggled.
“My God. We did a lot of that. Every damn day.”
“I know, all the time. Now that I’m older and look back…well…” She shook her head. “We had a lot of hormones then.”
“I’d say I’m struggling with my hormones right now.” I was laughing, but it was too much having Nicki cling to me now while remembering all the ways we’d fucked back then. My hand desperately wanted to inch up her skirt and feel her thigh. I took a breath and discreetly adjusted my dick. I wasn’t sure if she noticed.
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
“Maybe I should get back to my story.”
“Good idea.”
Trying to get my thoughts back on track, I exhaled. “So…when my family saw me, they didn’t say anything about me being out all night or even my appearance. They let me sleep, so I slept in the car and for most of the flight back to England.” There was no way I could go through a blow-by-blow account of those painful days. I cut to the chase. “When I got home, I was still sad. I missed you terribly.”
I held my breath a second before telling her the truth I needed her to believe. “Just so you know, I never got back together with Kate—at all—ever. In fact, I didn’t have a relationship with anyone for a long time.”
Nicki’s sad brown eyes looked up at me. When she nodded, I thanked God that she believed me and continued. “Even when I did start seeing people again, I tried to keep up with you from the bits of information I got from Sylvia.”
“And then?” She sounded hopeful.
“Then when Logan was running for president, I occasionally saw you in the press. And when he was elected and appointed you a press secretary, I asked for the White House job. You know the rest.”
Nicki was silent. I began to worry I’d said something horribly wrong. Then she slowly sat upright and, after taking a deep breath, said, “I’m sorry I put both of us through that. I just couldn’t handle any more pain. I was confident that if I saw you, we’d just break up again. I knew I couldn’t take it.” She looked so ashamed. “I’m sorry. It was mean of me…I was selfish…I was all those things you called me before you left for your grandfather’s funeral.”
“I won’t have you apologizing to me, Nicki. I was an immature boy and cruel to you.”
“But I’ve wanted to apologize. I don’t think things would’ve changed between us, but it was awful of me to ignore you. I’ve felt so guilty.”
“Please don’t. Looking back, I now know you were right. I was foolish and more than a little selfish myself. You’d just lost your sister. Your whole family was grieving. Yet I asked you to leave them.” Then I rued the rest of it all. Everything I’d wanted to say to her during our years of enforced silence spewed out of me. “And you were right. We would’ve broken up. We were too young. We lived too far away. Even if we were just friends, things probably would’ve fizzled out—maybe badly. And my dad…well…he had his own ideas about my future.”
“I thought so.”
“Really?”
“Well, you’d mentioned it, and frankly, I got a similar talking-to from my parents, especially after you left.” Her voice trailed off, and she all but whispered her last sentence. “After you left, I missed you so much.”
Tilting her face up to mine, I said, “Nicki, like I told you, I missed you,
too.”
“But now…”
“No buts. If we dwell on all the obstacles between us, we’ll never get anywhere.” I tucked her hair behind her ear, and at that moment, it felt like fate that she was back in my arms. “Maybe we had to be apart all those years so we could be together now.”
“Adam…” Her voice broke at the end.
Seeing the tears well in her eyes made me choke on my own. I used my thumb to wipe away the sadness. “I can’t have you crying, Nicki. You’re going to make me start, and blokes aren’t supposed to.”
She tried to smile but seemed overwhelmed. Her tears spilled over, and I couldn’t bear to see them. Taking her face in my hands, I kissed her wet cheeks and tasted their tart salt. After my lips found hers, I felt her hand caress the nape of my neck. She kissed me softly but so intently that it felt like she was trying to tell me something. I wasn’t sure what, though, because I could still feel her sobbing.
If she hadn’t been bawling, I would’ve been all over her, but the tears confused me. Boys were taught at a young age to be gentle when a girl started to cry. It was often incredibly frustrating if you were angry or annoyed, but it was a rule.
So there I was, passionately kissing Nicki through her tears, sensing that both of us were making up for lost time. It was then that I realized she was the love of my life. A love I’d found and lost and then, remarkably, found again. I relished each and every kiss because of that.
Eventually, she broke away and snuggled beside me, with her leg and arm crossed over me. She seemed worn out, so I stroked her hair, trying to calm her. After a few minutes, I discovered that she’d fallen asleep on me once again, so I closed my eyes and soon peacefully followed right behind her.
We only woke when David knocked on the glass door. “Adam? It’s late. We should get going.”
Disoriented, I shook the sleep out of my mind. “Right. Yeah. Be there soon.”
Propping up on her arm, Nicki blinked at the brightness coming from indoors. “We must’ve slept for a while.”
I checked my watch. “It’s past three.”
“Sorry.” She giggled.
“Don’t be. It was nice.” I touched her cheek that was red and wrinkled from sleeping on my shirt. “You probably have to work tomorrow.”
“I do.”
“I do, too.”
“You don’t usually work that much on the weekends.”
“I know. I try not to, but I’m leaving on Wednesday to see my dad.”
“How’s he doing?” she asked, her brow furrowed.
“My mum won’t say much. I don’t think he’s responding to the treatment as well as we hoped he would, so I’m going to see for myself.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll call you when you’re there.” She kissed my cheek. “I’ll try not to call too late.”
“I’ll stay up for a phone call from you.” Something hit my gut then. I really wanted to ask her to come with me. It felt like the right thing to do, but it also felt forward. We weren’t exactly back together—not yet. Until then, I decided to focus on how close we were. I squeezed her tightly to me. “Maybe we can get together when I get back.”
The smile on her face grew bigger. “Well, I’d like to see you again. Tonight was…good.”
“It was very good.” And I kissed her one more time, trying my best to show her just how good I thought it had been.
Chapter Eleven
THE STRONG MORNING SUN woke me up the following day. Squinting in the harsh light, I saw that it was gone ten. That was late for me, but then I remembered why I’d slept in—I’d been up late with Nicki the night before. As I smiled, the blinking light on my phone caught my eye.
I picked it up and saw the screen displaying a text from Nicki that had arrived over an hour before.
Morning. I had a good time last night.
Hope you have a nice Sunday!
Quickly, I typed back.
I didn’t have a good time.
I checked my email because I didn’t expect her to immediately respond, but she soon replied with the question I wanted.
Why not?
I wanted her to ask so I could emphasize how I felt about what was going on between us and get a better read from her. It worked; the conversation flowed.
Because I had a GREAT time.
:) I did, too.
Are you at work already?
Yes.
I need to head into the office myself.
I just woke up, though. I’m still in bed.
You’re in bed? Now why did you tell me that?
I think you know why.
Er, yeah. On that note, I’ll say goodbye.
Talk to you later. Bye for now.
Thus began the series of flirty texts and short calls between Nicki and me for the next few days before I left for my journey back to Cambridge. Sometimes she’d text me right before the morning briefing, and I’d answer as soon as the briefing concluded. Unfortunately, she slipped up at one point, texting me about an official matter on her personal phone. My eyes widened when I read the message.
Neidermeyer’s staff say they can’t control what the
Congressman will say about Logan if the bailout bill doesn’t go after the bank CEO’s compensation packages.
Neidermeyer will go ballistic on us.
I typed a quick response.
I’m guessing this wasn’t intended for me.
Shit. No.
No worries. It’s not a state secret Neidermeyer would do that, and he’s never scripted.
Despite my reassurance, I knew she was still spooked by the mistake. Her next message clinched it.
Yeah. Damn. I’ll call you tomorrow night
when you’re at your parents, okay?
Sure. Travel safe.
I will. Take care of yourself.
Frowning, I placed my phone back in my pocket. A mistake like that was bound to happen between us. But Goddamn it. That may be the last text I get from Nicki.
As I tried to sleep on the flight to London, I tossed and turned with worry about Dad. Despite our daily calls, Mum was less than forthcoming when it came to his health. It was only when I saw him that I realized why she’d been so evasive. He was a changed man.
As soon as I could slip away, I called Sylvia. When she picked up, I didn’t even bother with any pleasantries. “Sylvia, why didn’t you tell me? You were only just here!”
“Well, hell-bloody-o to you, too, Adam.”
“What the fuck, Sylvia? He looks horrible. I swear he’s yellow.”
“I know.” Then her voice softened. “I thought so, too.”
Running a hand through my hair, I winced. As much as I wanted to have a go at her, there was no reason to berate her anymore for leaving me in the dark about Dad’s condition. It obviously had affected her just as much as it did me, so I asked, “What did Mum say about it? I haven’t had a moment alone with her yet to ask what’s going on.”
“Mum said the increased dosage wasn’t having any effect. The cancer has spread from his stomach to his liver.”
“So that’s why he’s so jaundiced—it’s in his liver?”
“He was only a little yellowish when I was there last week. It must be spreading really rapidly.”
“Shit!” I was exasperated by her. She sounded so detached—almost nonchalant. “If you knew all this, why aren’t you here?”
“I asked him if I should stay, and he said no. He seemed happy. I could see he didn’t want me there.”
“What do you mean you ‘could see’ that?” I knew Sylvia loved Dad, and she wasn’t daft, but what was she doing? “Of course he’s going to say no if you ask him if you should stay!”
Sylvia sighed, and it sounded as if I was frustrating her just as much. “Adam, calm down. We’ve all known this was coming for a while now. Well, at least I’ve known; maybe you haven’t processed it yet.”
“I haven’t processed it yet? Jesus Christ, Sylvia. You’ve lived in America for too long. Don’t gi
ve me that therapy bullshit.”
“Do you want to talk to me or not, arsehole? Stop being so hostile if you do.”
She was right that I was losing it. I took a deep breath, then exhaled. “I do want to talk to you. I know he’s dying. I’ve known he’s dying. I’m just shocked at how much he’s physically deteriorated. It’s been over a month since I’ve been here, but even so, I can’t believe it.”
“It is shocking, but I think that’s why he told me I should go home. He didn’t want me to see him like this. And you know how close he and Mum are. Maybe he wants to be alone with her.”
I swallowed and asked the hard question. “Did you ask her about how long he might—”
“No. And I’m not going to. I’m just keeping my calendar open enough so I can leave when I need to.”
“Huh. Okay.” I thought I should leave it at that. I knew when I wasn’t going to get more information out of a source, and as one, Sylvia had clearly dried up.
“Listen,” she said. “Why don’t we catch up when you get back? I’ll come down for a visit, and we can compare notes on Dad. Maybe I can see Nicki as well.”
My day suddenly brightened hearing an easy way to spend some time with Nicki. “That would be nice. Come on Saturday.”
“Will do. Now go and talk to Mum.”
I wished her well and went off to find Mum. She was in the kitchen, making dinner while Dad took an evening nap. The fact that he needed to rest before dinner left me the perfect opening for broaching the subject. Sitting down on a kitchen chair, I said, “So, Dad seems to be sleeping more than the last time I was here.”
“Mmm. Yes. I suppose he is.” She paused from trussing her chicken and smiled. “It’s good for him. He needs it, and the morphine makes him sleepy.”
“Mum, he doesn’t look very well.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Her attention was back on the puckered bird in front of her. “His mind is still sharp, though. You’ve seen that, haven’t you?”
“Sure.” I tried a roundabout question. “But are you worried?”
