by Sylvie Fox
“I presume we’re having nachos.”
“You presume correctly,” he said, making fun of her sometimes formal speech. He planted a quick kiss on the top of her head. “Fun food for a fun day.”
For a few minutes when they pulled up to Nick’s house and brought the groceries to the kitchen, Holly basked in the fantasy that they were a real couple. They got along well. And the more time she spent at his house, the more at home she felt. To top it off, she didn’t think it would take much for her to fall in love with him, and that scared her more than anything else in the world.
They worked companionably in the kitchen. Holly made fresh salsa and guacamole. Nick fried up the beef and laid the tortilla chips on a large baking sheet. He then piled them high with toppings and popped them in the oven. Holly had to smile. For all his so-called maturity, he had moments where he acted like a big kid. She could accuse him of having eyes bigger than his stomach but refrained, lest he think she was trying out for the part of grandma. While the nachos baked, Nick set up the living room. He pulled out the large throw pillows and plugged a console game into the large screen television.
“Wait,” Holly said. “We’re playing video games? I don’t normally do this kind of stuff. I don’t have the dexterity for those tiny controls nor the stomach for gory shoot ’em up games.”
Nick ignored her and continued plugging in wires while she pulled the bubbling, cheesy nachos from the oven and piled their plates high. “It’s not that kind of game,” he finally said. “I don’t have the stomach for those violent ones either. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”
Holly doubted him, but went along anyway. She’d enjoyed the day more than she’d anticipated. Nick was a lot of fun, and maybe, just maybe, age was a state of mind.
While she ate gooey nachos with her fingers and sipped at the cool beer, Nick loaded up a Tomb Raider adventure game. Holly didn’t expect much from the scantily clad, gun-toting heroine, Lara Croft. But the game was surprisingly enjoyable. There was adventure, spectacular graphics, and problem solving. Nick and Holly spent as much time manipulating the controls as they did with pen and paper working out the numerous puzzles and riddles the game presented.
Holly couldn’t remember having such a good time just playing around. She felt more lighthearted than she had in years. Before she knew it, they had finished most of the nachos. When she looked at her watch to check the time, she was surprised to discover it was already nine-thirty. While Nick was consulting the game guide for clues to their current dilemma, Holly pressed the pause button on the console to mute the background sounds in the game.
It had been a great day and an incredible weekend. She got up and moved the remnants of their meal into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. When she returned to the living room, she pulled the strategy guide from Nick’s hands. She wanted to make him feel as good as he had made her feel. He was sitting on the floor, long legs fully extended, so she scooted her bottom between his legs, straddled her legs over his hips, looped her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. In the back of her mind, she heard a thud as the controller hit the floor.
He broke the kiss, hesitantly, after some minutes. “Holly, we don’t have to do anything,” he said, his voice already slightly rough with arousal. “When I said I wanted to spend the day with you, I wasn’t planning on making love to you. I wanted to explore the other parts of our relationship…” Nick trailed off as Holly stroked the hard musculature of his back, deliberately lingering in his most erogenous areas.
She looked at him from under her lashes. “Nick, I just want to explore your other parts.” She could feel his breath in her hair as she unbuttoned his jeans. She was surprised that he was hard for her after only one kiss. She brushed the back of her hand along his erection, and he sucked in a breath.
“Holly… ” Nick’s feeble protest came to a grinding halt as she shifted her position, kneeling between his legs. She leaned into him, and her breath caressed his boxer briefs. She lifted his penis from his shorts and rubbed at the beaded moisture on the tip with the soft pad of her thumb. Nick’s only response was a deep groan. There was no resistance when she moved away to strip off his pants and underwear and position herself more firmly between his thighs. She pressed her breasts against his balls and grasped his cock firmly in her hands. She then took him as deep as she could in her mouth, sucking and licking her way to the tip, again, and again, and again, Nick writhing beneath her. A groan hissed from Nick’s lips as she pleasured him in earnest.
“Oh, God, Holly, I’m going to come,” Nick said through clenched teeth.
Holly didn’t stop and was rewarded with Nick’s orgasm, which seemed to go on forever, his organ jerking of its own volition.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” Holly said meaning it, swallowing his essence.
“Let’s go to bed.”
They left the mess for the ants, walking, fingers entwined, upstairs to his bedroom. She undressed, unselfconsciously for once, and pulled back the covers in the huge sleigh bed, illuminated only by moonlight. Holly didn’t know when, but she’d made up her mind about Nick that day. Why shouldn’t she give it a try? What did she have to lose being with Nick? Holly didn’t probe the answer to that rhetorical question too deeply because she suspected that what she could lose was her heart.
When Nick turned on the light, revealing the now wine-colored bedroom, Holly was taken aback. “Nick, when did you paint this? It makes me feel right at home.” To demonstrate, Holly launched herself at the bed and rolled around gleefully.
He undressed silently, and they slid under the covers. Nick reached up to turn out the one lamp, and the room was again bathed in the moon’s ethereal glow.
“I guess you still don’t have those curtains.”
“No, but this way I can see all of you,” Nick whispered huskily. He gently tugged at her hair, watching the spirals bounce back from his touch. “Holly,” he started, looking directly into her eyes, “I love your hair. It’s wild and crazy. I love that it tells me that you’re more than the conservative, down-to-earth person you project.” Nick continued caressing her, his hands whispering along her smooth back. “I love your back. It’s smooth and yet firm, showing that you have the courage of your convictions.” His touch tickled the small of her back. “I love knowing that you have this tattoo, for my eyes only.” He caressed the moons of her bottom. “I love your ass. It’s so feminine, and it really turns me on.”
With only his hands, Nick gently urged Holly to turn over. She was lying on her back now, staring at the ceiling, her eyes avoiding the intensity of his scrutiny. When his fingers traced her areola, glanced off her nipple, Holly shuddered involuntarily. “I love your breasts.” When she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and brought her hands reflexively over them out of habit, Nick pulled her hands away. “Holly, you shouldn’t be embarrassed about the size of your breasts. If any man ever told you that you weren’t attractive—” Nick bit off the rest of the sentence. His tones returned to soothing ones.
“A handful is more than enough for me. What turns me on more than any one body part itself is your responsiveness. I love knowing that I can tweak you here,” he tweaked her nipple, “or lick you there,” he played on her other nipple with the point of his tongue, “and know that you respond so willingly.” Involuntarily, Holly shuddered.
Nick traced her collarbone, skimmed his palms along her toned thighs, complimented her shapely calves, worshipped the rest of her nude form. Holly’s limbs felt languorous. She wanted to touch him, to tell him how cherished she felt, but she was unable to speak, suddenly tired, and instead was lulled into a deep peaceful sleep. The sleep of someone whose decision to break the rules had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders.
Holly woke to the smell of breakfast. Just when she had propped herself up on the unmistakably new and plump pillows, Nick came in with heaping plates on a wooden tray. Shirtless in loose-fitting sweats, he looked more dele
ctable than breakfast. But out of politeness, she made an effort to look interested in the food.
Wordlessly, he slid the tray over her legs. He had made scrambled eggs, bacon, whole wheat English muffins, orange juice, and of course, English tea. They didn’t talk about anything in particular while they ate. Holly was about to thank him when she felt overcome with an acute sense of nausea. She was just able to set the tray aside, and make it to the bathroom, before she lost her breakfast.
Nick rushed in behind her, holding back her hair while her stomach contents emptied.
“Maybe I should leave the cooking up to you,” Nick chided.
“I’m so mortified,” Holly said, her face coloring deeply. “I don’t know what happened.”
Nick got a washcloth and gently wiped her forehead, mouth, and neck. He rummaged in the bathroom drawers and gave her a new toothbrush. While she was brushing her teeth, a towel tucked modestly around her breasts, Nick brought her a soft old college t-shirt from his University of Illinois days and a pair of his old boxers. She put them on. The t-shirt draped to her knees, but was supremely comfortable and smelled of Nick—a far better smell than breakfast, or what had come after. Thankfully, the bedroom was devoid of food when she got back into bed.
“Nick,” she called out. She thought she heard a muffled yes from the kitchen over the sound of the garbage disposal devouring the remainder of her breakfast. “I don’t feel so well, do you mind if I take a little nap before I go home?”
She picked up her cell phone and called in sick to work, then closed her eyes for a quick nap.
Holly was out cold. Nick watched her sleep soundly and did his best not to wake her. He pulled out his luggage from the loft’s small storage area and packed his clothes as quietly as he could. When Nick came back down to the bedroom to get more clothes out of the armoire, Holly was just coming awake.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Holly said.
To Nick, she looked really tired, off’ somehow.
“Can you drop me off at home?” she asked. “If time is tight with your flight and all, I can get a ride from—”
Nick cut her off. “Of course I can drive you home. It’s on the way to Helena’s house anyway.” He paused, looking at her again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Holly and Nick talked about everything but their “relationship” on the short drive to her house. When he pulled the convertible to a stop, Holly looked at her watch. “You don’t have to walk me in. I’m fine Nick, just fine.”
“I want to see for myself. Make sure you have what you need.”
Holly did everything she could to keep up a perky persona. She didn’t want the fact that she was dog-tired with the flu or some bug to keep Nick in L.A. His job, his projects were far too important for that.
“I’ll be okay, Nick. I have plenty of good stuff like oatmeal, mac and cheese, and tea, lots of tea. Don’t worry about me.”
Nick leaned close to her, brushed her hair away from her face, and kissed her forehead, then her lips with the utmost tenderness. “Be well.”
Holly trailed Nick as he let himself out. “Get well, I don’t want anything to happen to my love,” he said. Holly shut the door but didn’t have the time to analyze his comment before a new wave of nausea hit her. But this time, her stomach was empty, so Holly got herself a glass of water and got into bed fully clothed. She’d get up later, after a little nap.
When her eyelids fluttered open for the third time that day, it was already dark outside. Damn, Holly thought, she’d slept the day away. She was starving now. Splurging on the calories, she made herself a large bowl of macaroni and cheese. She curled up in front of the TV with her favorite Hugh Grant movie in the DVD player.
Full and warm, Holly felt much better. It must have been a twelve-hour bug, she thought. She took a warm bath and tucked herself in bed later that night, feeling just fine.
It was another story on Tuesday morning. She woke up feeling great. She did a few yoga stretches, then got into the shower and dressed. But it all went wrong again at breakfast. Two bites of an English muffin and a few sips of tea had Holly back in the bathroom. She called in sick, again. Maybe it was more of a twenty-four to thirty-six hour bug. The folks at Equia could live without her for another day. She hadn’t taken a sick day in more than five years.
Halfway through her second Hugh Grant movie, a holiday one this time, the phone rang.
“Hey, Sophie,” Holly said, hearing enough background traffic noise to let her know that Sophie was outside somewhere on her cell.
“I stopped by your office to see if you were free for lunch. Your assistant told me you’d called in sick for the last two days. You okay?”
“Soph, I don’t know. I got sick at Nick’s place. I feel like I must have some kind of weird flu or something.”
“I’m coming over.”
“You don’t have to do that. I thought you were on the set of one of the kid shows today.”
“I have a couple of days free. The young star has to make up some missed school hours, so the crew’s off.”
Sophie asked some questions about Holly’s condition, then said she’d stop by the store and be over in an hour. True to her word, Sophie was knocking on the door about the time Holly had finished her movie. Large drugstore sack in hand, Sophie bustled her way into the kitchen. She took out Pepto-Bismol, saltines, ginger ale, club soda, and a pregnancy test.
“Sophie, you’re a godsend,” Holly said, twisting the cap off the ginger ale and pouring herself a glass. “Wait, why did you buy that?” she said when she saw the test kit on the table. “I’m sick with some weird stomach flu, not pregnant.”
Raising one pierced eyebrow skeptically, Sophie looked hard at Holly. “Clearly, I’m no medical expert, but you’re acting a lot like my sister Selie did in her first trimester. When was your last period anyway?”
“I don’t remember, but Nick and I have always used protection,” she said emphatically. Then she paused. “Except—”
“Except for when?”
“Just that first time,” Holly said, abashed. “We got a little carried away.”
“Sounds like a lot carried away.” Sophie pushed the slim pastel pink and blue box into Holly’s hands. “Just do this to be sure. Then I’ll take you to Canter’s, and we can try the chicken soup cure.”
Holly got up to go to the bathroom. Nick’s voluminous shirt, which she was still wearing, rode up on her back.
“Girl, is that a tattoo I see? Nick’s had some influence on you. Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing skinny jeans.”
Holly grimaced before pulling the t-shirt back down to her knees. “It’s just a henna tattoo. Nick and I were on The Strand in Venice.”
“No need to explain to me. I’m sure he thinks it’s sexy,” Sophie said with a wink. “Get in there. I’ll put the kettle on for more tea.”
Five long minutes stretched taut with silence. The kitchen timer buzzed at the same time the kettle whistled. Sophie poured hot water into Holly’s Chinese tea pot, arranging two small mugs on a hand carved tray. Holly stepped toward the bathroom trepidation in every step. Two pink lines, one faint, one dark filled the tiny plastic window. Her steps back to the kitchen were as rapid as she could make them without breaking into a sprint. Hands shaking, heart palpitating, she nearly tripped over her feet thrusting the little telltale stick toward her friend.
Sophie paused, kettle in hand. “I guess one time was a charm.”
Speechless, Holly nodded.
“Are you going to call Nick? I think he should be here with you, now. New York can wait.” Sophie moved as if to get the cordless phone from its base on the wall.
“No, I don’t want to tell him. Not now at least.”
“Why not?”
“Sophie, he’s twenty-six. He’s not ready for fatherhood. I can’t go through this whole thing again with Nick.”
“What whole thing?” Sophie asked, clearly confused. Her best friend didn�
��t know the half of it.
Holly got quiet, memories assailing her now. “When Drew and I first got married, a few months before you and I met, I got pregnant.”
Sophie gasped, a quick intake of breath. “I didn’t know, hon.”
“I’ve never told anyone. Drew didn’t want the baby. He said we were too young, we hadn’t been married long enough. He had a litany of excuses.”
“What happened?”
“We fought, we argued. I was extremely stressed out. Happy one day, crying the next.” She paused. Holly pushed out the four hardest words she’d said in a long time. “I lost the baby.” There was another lull as she caught her breath and continued. “At the time it seemed like it was all for the best. We never tried again. That’s why I don’t want to put any of this on Nick. Sophie, he still doesn’t have a couch, and his car only has two seats. Where would a car safety seat go?” Holly paused, momentarily quiet and contemplative.
“I really want this baby. I’d always planned for a baby, a family, for a very long time. No matter what Nick decides, I will raise our child. But, I won’t cut his single, carefree life short. Please let me decide when to tell him; if…”
Her best friend shook her head, her disagreement obvious. “You should call that man right now. Let him make the decision. He may be a little younger than us, but he’s a grown ass man who can handle the consequences of his actions,” Sophie said, her customary gum cracking sarcasm gone for once. “You didn’t make this baby alone. I may not have finished college, but I was a whiz at high school biology. It takes two.”
“I don’t know, Sophie. It’s all too much,” Holly said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Let me see if I can get into the doctor’s office to confirm, and we’ll go from there. All this hand wringing may be for nothing. How reliable can these home tests be anyway?”