“Fair enough,” I said.
“Kimmie?”
“Nicholas?”
He flashed me a sexy grin and inched even closer to me on the bed. “Can we do it again now?”
Shaking my head in amusement, I said, “I’d love to. But…” I paused. I didn’t want to harp on an issue he’d promised to resolve, but I wasn’t sure it would be as easy as Nicholas seemed to think.
“What’s wrong?” Nicholas asked with concern.
I bit my lip. “I’m so happy you’ve acknowledged what’s been happening between us and I love that you’ve sworn things will be different from here on out, but how do you plan to accomplish that? How can you be sure we won’t revert to old habits and find ourselves in the same place two months from now?”
Nicholas nodded. “It won’t always be easy, Kimmie. I do have a demanding job. But like you reminded me in Florida, I was a busy attorney when we first started dating and I managed to make time for you. I worked late some nights so I could be with you on others. I delegated assignments where possible. I don’t have a Daneen anymore, but there are junior people at my company I can rely on more than I have lately.”
I tried not to grimace at the mention of Daneen.
Nicholas pursed his lips. “I know I can make it work. Especially because now I’ve experienced what it’s like to lose you and I can’t bear it happening again. If we have plans, unless my job is truly at stake or someone’s life is on the line, I’ll be there.” He grinned. “And unlike my dad’s job, the likelihood of someone’s life being at stake and me being the one to save it is pretty small.”
“Speaking of your dad…” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t think additional clarification was necessary.
“I’ll take care of my father. Trust me on that. He has to be proud of me for who I am now, not who he wants me to be. If he’s not capable, I’ll learn to live with it.” His lips curled up. “I’m pretty sure my mom loves me best at least. Don’t tell my siblings.”
“You have my word,” I said with a chuckle as I ran my thumb and index finger across my lips. I was glad Nicholas was going to stop trying so hard to earn Dr. Strong’s approval both for the sake of our relationship and because a parent’s approval shouldn’t take so much work, but I also knew joking was Nicholas’s way of coping. It made me sad.
“I can’t promise to have a nine to five existence five days a week nor can I guarantee a work event will never get in the way ever again, but you have my sincere vow to make it the exception and not the norm. I also promise to share my schedule with you so there will be less surprises. And I will confide more about the work gig and take more active interest in your publishing journey than I’ve been doing lately. Can you live with that?” He looked at me hopefully.
I pressed my lips against his and whispered, “I can.”
Waking up early the next morning, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and checked my email while Nicholas slept. Scrolling through my new messages and keeping the ones with the subject line “Review Request” unread for the time being, I opened a new one from Hannah.
Kim!
I just learned Three Monkeys Press passed on your book. I’m quite surprised given the success of their latest titles in the genre, most notably Cut on the Bias.
I’m almost as crushed as you that we won’t be part of the same publishing house, but don’t give up hope. Felicia can sell anything, and I’m sure she’ll find a home for Blogger Girl eventually. It just takes some books longer, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they won’t do as well. You waited longer than most to reach five feet, but it happened eventually, right? Haha.
Please tell your sister the autographed copies of my books are in the mail. She’s such a doll.
Hannah
I chuckled. Even though she got the title of my book wrong, and I never did reach five feet tall, I truly believed she meant well. I glanced over at a sleeping Nicholas and kissed the top of his head. I wasn’t as bothered by Hannah’s knowledge of Three Monkeys’ rejection as I thought I’d be. Felicia might not have found a home for A Blogger’s Life yet, but my own home was as sweet as it could be. After placing my phone back on the table, I curled my body around Nicholas and fell back asleep with a smile.
Chapter 42
Nicholas kept to his word, and things improved dramatically over the next few weeks. We were back to where we were before things went sour. He still worked late hours most nights but always texted to let me know approximately when he’d be home. He made sure to reserve at least two evenings a week for me plus weekends and kept his phone tucked into his pocket and unchecked for what he called “undivided Kimmie time.” He involved me in his professional world by sharing stories about his colleagues and the latest in his achievements and answered my questions rather than shrugging them off on the assumption I wouldn’t be interested. And, most fun of all, we reinstated our daytime sexting sessions with a vengeance. I was tempted to leave my phone on Daneen’s desk open to one of our spicier exchanges, but I decided it didn’t matter whether or not she knew how happy we were. The only people who needed to know about our blissful state were Nicholas and me. But the biggest test was still ahead of us. His folks were in town for a family dinner—and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid all it would take to blow our happy home down to the ground was a single face to face with the Big Bad Wolf, a.k.a. Dr. Warren Strong.
The vibe at Catch, a popular Asian-Fusion restaurant in the trendy Meatpacking District, was probably more suitable for a night out with our friends than a family gathering with Dr. and Mrs. Strong, Nicholas’s brother Neil and his wife Clarissa, and the two of us, but I was cautiously optimistic the noise level would drown out the tension. I’d considered suggesting we devise a game plan for Nicholas getting through the meal with his ego unscathed at the hand of his father, but Nicholas had promised me he’d handle it. And when it came to family dynamics, there was only so much an outsider could do.
As the waiter asked if we preferred bottled water, sparkling, or tap, and Dr. Strong took the liberty of responding for us all with “tap,” I squeezed Nicholas’s hand under the table in silent encouragement. He turned to me and winked before asking, “Should we order a couple bottles of wine for the table?”
After much discussion, we decided on two bottles of pinot noir and several small plates to share, including multiple sushi rolls, mahi mahi tacos, a selection of oysters, and the Seafood Tower.
I was telling Clarissa, who sat on my other side, about Pastel Is the New Black and was pleasantly surprised when she whipped out her phone and joined the mailing list right then and there. I had outgrown my reluctance to share my blog with people out of fear they would dismiss the genre of chick lit as being frivolous—to each his own—but I figured her taste in books would lean toward the more intellectual considering her career as a medical research scientist for a major pharmaceutical company. One glass of wine under my belt and tipsy, I told her as much.
She laughed, her blue eyes twinkling. “Not at all. When I’m not reading for the job, the less stuffy the content, the better.” From across the table, Dr. Strong belted out a laugh in response to something Neil had said, and Clarissa shifted closer to me—close enough so I could smell the coconut scent of her shoulder-length chestnut hair. Raising her voice to be heard over the din of the table, she said, “My taste has gone quite dark lately, to be honest. Do you review only chick lit?”
With a sideways glance at Nicholas, I said, “Mostly, but not all. Although I do need to protect my brand. Pastel Is the New Black is definitely a chick lit blog.”
Draping his arm across the back of my chair, Nicholas said, “Did someone mention branding?”
“You can take the guy out of work, but you can’t take work out of the guy,” I joked. It was such a relief to be able to utter that sentence in jest after everything we’d been through.
“No work tonight. Let’s
drink to that,” Neil said from his chair on the opposite side of the table from Clarissa. He downed what remained in his wineglass in one sip.
“Bottoms up, son. You earned it. How many surgeries did you perform last week?” Warren asked, beaming at his eldest son with pride while refilling his glass.
“This week has been intense as I’ve been juggling rounds with my reading. And I’m working on a clinical protocol.” Neil rubbed his eyes. “But like I said, no work tonight.” He winked in Clarissa’s direction.
As I noted the resemblance between Nicholas and Neil—both in appearance and mannerisms—I blushed. I wondered if after almost a decade of marriage Clarissa was as hot for Neil as I was for his brother. Nicholas had told me they met at a medical seminar when Neil was an attending physician.
“What about you, son?” Dr. Strong said, directing his green-eyed gaze at Nicholas. “Any headway on the promotion?”
The moment I had dreaded upon us, I tensed against Nicholas’s arm, which was still draped across my chair. I took a sip of my drink, hoping the glass wouldn’t fall out of my shaky hand.
“Actually, no,” Nicholas answered before calmly removing a piece of sushi roll from a platter in front of us and dipping it in soy sauce.
His brow furrowed, Dr. Strong repeated, “No?”
Wishing I could click my Louboutins three times and be anywhere but here, I dared not look at Nicholas. Instead, I took another sip of my wine and stared straight ahead, unintentionally catching the eye of Mrs. Strong. As if reading my mind, she smiled at me warmly as if to say, “No worries.”
“My work is under control, Dad. Now, I want to focus on finding the right balance between my career and other equally important aspects of my life.” Nicholas found my hand under the table and squeezed. “More important, actually.”
I sucked in my breath in surprise and, on the verge of tears, locked eyes with him and mouthed, “Thank you.”
He nodded, his back straight in a show of confidence.
Remembering we weren’t alone at the table, I hesitantly glanced at his mother who dabbed her eyes with her napkin. Then I glanced toward Dr. Strong, fearing the smoke from his ears would burn down the restaurant.
“Son—” Warren began.
“No, Dad,” Nicholas said firmly.
“Good for you, little brother,” Neil said, breaking the tension.
“To balance,” Clarissa piped in, raising her glass.
“To balance,” Jeanine echoed. Elbowing her husband, she added, “You might want to take a lesson from your youngest son, Warren. Balance is not your strong suit.” Then she kissed him on the cheek. “Although your intensity is one of the things I love the most about you.”
Dr. Strong released a reluctant laugh. “Fine. To balance.” He raised his glass and took a sip. Clearing his throat, he said, “Speaking of balance, I read an interesting study the other day suggesting a correlation between balance and risk for stroke.”
Everyone at the table collectively burst out in laughter. All except Warren, who, looking bewildered, glanced from one person to the next, evidently not seeing the humor in the statement.
After dinner, we lay side by side in bed watching Behind the Music on VH1. We were too exhausted and full of food to have sex, but too wound up to sleep. Still glowing in the aftermath of Nicholas standing up to his father and his public proclamation there was more to his life than climbing the legal corporate ladder, I gladly relinquished power over the remote control to him. Too fatigued to pay much attention and not at all interested in the successes and failures of Grand Funk Railroad—I couldn’t even name one song they sang—I was content to brush my feet against Nicholas’s under the covers.
Nicholas placed the remote control on the part of the blanket that was covering me. “I’m beat, Kimmie. Gonna catch some Zs. You can watch whatever you want. I won’t mind the sound.”
Turning off the television, I said, “I’m tired too” and turned on my side facing him.
Nicholas smiled and inched closer to me. “Have a good time tonight?”
“I did. Did you?”
“Yup. Good times with the fam.”
“I like Neil and Clarissa.”
“Yeah, they’re good people.”
“Neil isn’t what I expected,” I confessed.
“What did you expect?” Nicholas asked, closing his eyes.
I swiped two fingers along his forehead. “I kind of figured he’d be all intense like your dad, but he’s more like you and your mom.”
Nicholas opened his eyes. “He’s my favorite brother. Nathan’s kind of a jerk sometimes.”
I giggled. “He’d probably get along great with Erin.”
“You love your sister. Admit it.”
“I do. And hopefully you will too.” We had planned our trip to Boston for the following month. “I just wish she’d keep her trap shut. I’m afraid to even tell my parents what’s going on with my book for fear they’ll tell Erin, who will wait half a second before spilling to Hannah.”
Nicholas yawned.
“Am I boring you? I thought the days of you falling asleep on me were behind us,” I teased.
He gave me a wry grin. “Sorry. Anyway, I thought you made peace with Hannah knowing her publisher rejected you.”
“I did. But that was one rejection. I’d prefer to keep her out of the loop for future ones.”
“What makes you think there’ll be more?”
I bit my lip. “I haven’t heard a peep from Felicia in weeks.”
“No news is good news.”
I smirked at him. “Next you’ll tell me rain on your wedding day or getting crapped on by a pigeon is good luck.”
“Both of those things are true,” he said with confidence.
“Whatever.” I moved closer to him, buried my head in his chest, and closed my eyes. “G’night, Nicholas. Thanks for saying what you said to your dad.”
“I did it as much for me as I did it for you. But you’re welcome,” he said, kissing the top of my head. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” I murmured.
“I’m not going to tell you what happens. You have to keep reading.” Nicholas had started reading A Blogger’s Life and was trying to pump me for information.
“Fine. Be that way.”
I chuckled, but when I saw Daneen standing by my desk glowering at me, I put my hand to my mouth. Into the phone, I said, “Hold on a sec, okay?” before addressing her. “What can I do for you?”
“How about we start with your job? Considering your writing hasn’t gotten you anywhere, you might want to make a bit more effort. Rob won’t let you skate forever.” She raised an eyebrow.
My cheeks burning, I said to Nicholas, “I gotta go.”
“Put her on.”
My belly quivered. “What?”
“Put. Her. On.”
I gulped. “K.” Turning to Daneen, I said, “Nicholas wants to speak to you” and handed her the phone.
Daneen squeezed into my already crowded cubicle space and smirked at me. “Hello there.”
Chewing on my cuticles, I watched as Daneen’s upturned lips turned down and her bright eyes went dull. “I didn’t know.” As her face turned ashen, she scraped a hand through her hair and turned her back on me. “I won’t. Yes, I understand. Bye.” Without meeting my eyes, she returned the phone to my hand and walked away with her shoulders slumped.
Still watching Daneen’s back as she turned the corner, I said to Nicholas, “What the hell did you say to her?”
After a brief hesitation, Nicholas said, “I told her I know you have dirt on her that you’ve been kind enough to keep to yourself. I told her I’ve had enough of her cattiness toward you, and if she doesn’t start treating you with the respect you deserve, I will use my powers of persuasion to get you to spill all of the dirty det
ails.”
“Holy crap.” I laughed at my unintentional pun. “Thank you, sweets.”
“I know I’ve urged you to shrug her off, but I can see she doesn’t make it easy for you at all. If the secret isn’t embarrassing enough to get the job done, I will threaten to pull my work from the firm and blame her as the reason.”
“Although I would love for her to leave the firm of her own doing, I don’t think I could live with being the cause.” Who was I kidding? I could totally live with it.
“Who are you fooling, Kimmie?”
“Ha. You read my mind.”
“Speaking of reading, is Henry seriously going to miss Laurel’s thirtieth birthday party to take his folks to their bridge game?”
“No spoilers.”
Chapter 43
Leaning back against Bridget’s couch, I said, “This couch is super comfy, but I’m still glad I don’t have to sleep on it anymore.”
“Me too.”
“Nice, Bridge.” I mock glared at her.
“You know what I meant, silly,” Bridget said, tossing a throw pillow at me.
I caught the pillow and grinned. “I do.” I was about to fling the pillow back at her when I noticed it was designed out of her Instagram photos. I scanned the various images of Bridget and Jonathan both alone and together, as well as a couple of me. “This pillow is awesome.”
Beaming, Bridget said, “Thanks,” before glancing at her laptop, where an invite to join a video chat with Caroline, who was now with Felix in Morocco, had just popped up on the screen. After joining the chat, we waited for Caroline’s smiling face to appear and called out, “Hey Caroline,” in unison.
“Hi, girls.” When she waved, my eyes were immediately drawn to her ring finger and the sparkling diamond gleaming at us. Of the three of us, I never dreamed Caroline would be the first to get married, considering when she left for her sabbatical, she didn’t even have a boyfriend, Bridget lived with hers, and I was nearly at that stage. But I also never imagined I’d write a book, much less get an agent—especially the same agent as Hannah Marshak. The last year had brought many twists and turns, and I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.
Novelista Girl Page 26