Forever Your Heart

by Mary Whitney

  I knew exactly how she felt. After five years of a relatively happy relationship with Muff, I had broken it off. I couldn’t handle the pressure to get married—to have the life that was expected of me. Mum had supported my decision. She’d said if it didn’t feel right, then going our separate ways was for the best. Dad, on the other hand, had told me that he was disappointed in me—that I wasn’t acting rationally.

  I couldn’t contest that. It hadn’t been rational to break things off with Muff. She was nice, we had mutual friends, the sex had been good, and I’d loved her in a way. Of course, I hadn’t felt for her like I had for Nicki, but I didn’t expect that.

  It was only over time that I’d realized Muff was someone I could live without. We’d never been apart where I couldn’t wait to see her again; I had never spent my days or nights wondering what she was doing. Not once. That’s what told me I didn’t love her like you were supposed to love someone who you might marry.

  Whilst our break-up had been privately ugly, as with most upper-class British relationships, its end was publicly civil. I had even attended her wedding to Liam Hendrix. David called him Lord Stick Up His Arse, which he was, in addition to being one of the most boring blokes I’d ever met. They seemed well matched.

  My time with Muff had taught me that I needed something more—someone like Nicki. Juan Carlos may have already proposed, but now I finally had my chance again. I had to snatch it while I could. Leaning down to kiss her, I said, “Nicki, you still feel right to me.”

  “Oh God, no.” She spun away, only to turn back to me again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…I don’t mean…”

  “I…uh…” Why was she doing this? I’d thought we were making progress.

  “No, I need to finish. Please, I need to tell you more.”

  Her tone was so business-like, I pulled myself together. “Right. Okay.” I took a moment to cross my arms to signal I could be as distant about all of this as she. “It’s all right. I’m listening. So you and Juan Carlos—what’s your ‘status,’ so to speak?”

  “We’re still seeing each other. He’s my date for the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. What about you and Felicity?”

  “The same,” I lied.

  “I don’t want to do anything drastic, but I hate this hellish limbo.”

  “Why are you in limbo? And why is it hellish?”

  “Why?” She practically laughed at me. “Why? Because you’re here! Because I’ve got a loving boyfriend I was thinking of marrying, and now that you’re here I don’t know what to think. I’ve got a job that I love, but if I were acting ethically, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now. I can hardly resign, though, because I’ve no idea what’s going to happen with you. I don’t want to throw this all away just to relive some good times for a couple of months.”

  She was dismayed but still smiling—as if she’d thought about her situation so much it had become funny. She went over to the table and took a drink of wine. Easing herself into a chair, she said, “I could go to Logan tomorrow and say, ‘Mr. President, you’ve known me a long time. You know I wouldn’t do this lightly, but I’ve got a little problem. You’re busy fighting terrorism and fixing the American economy, but I need to be reassigned somewhere in the bowels of government so I can hook up with my high school boyfriend, Adam Kincaid of the BBC.’”

  “Well now, you wouldn’t actually be talking to the president about this, would you?” I took the seat beside her. “You’d talk with Matthew. He’s your boss, right? What would he say?”

  “Oh yes, I would talk to Logan. I’d tell Matthew, too, but I’d go directly to Logan first. I owe him that. He’s like my dad—not to mention friends with him. Logan would ask a lot of questions, and I’m not sure how it would go from there. I’d be a little political liability that needed to be fixed. They’d probably tell me to quit, or they’d reassign me to some crap job. But then, say, six months later, things end between you and me…for whatever reason. I can’t go back to my old job—not to mention it would be a while before I get another decent one as a press secretary. I’d have a reputation for sleeping with the press. That would be horrible.”

  I had to lighten the mood. If she continued to over-think what was going on, I’d never have a chance. “Sleeping with the press—like me? That would definitely be horrible.”

  The charm I’d mustered up worked. She even giggled. “Horrible. It would be absolutely horrible.” She gave me a playful slap to the head. “You know what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.” I considered the scene for a moment: me teasing her, her returning the favor, us laughing—the same old connection was there. With all seriousness, I asked, “But what if we lasted more than six months? What if we lasted…years?”

  I expected her to weigh the consequences, but she didn’t flinch. “It would be worth losing everything…it would be more than worth it.”

  “It would be. You know, Nicki, I don’t have to stay in my job. I don’t really even have to bloody work.”

  She outright rejected the idea I hadn’t even yet proposed. “I would never ask you to do that. Besides, your quitting really doesn’t fix the appearances issue. I don’t want to be a distraction in any way for Logan.”

  Rubbing my forehead, I pondered the conundrum she’d created in her mind. Certainly, the majority of it was true, but some of it seemed like unnecessary walls she’d built to protect herself. Then I remembered Juan Carlos. Him. Short-Arse. Couldn’t she just dump him? I sighed. “So what do you want to do?”

  “Be your friend. See how that goes.” She winced after she said it.

  “I can play that game, but…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, you said yourself we were never just friends.”

  “Yeah, but you were the one who said that we should try. Shouldn’t we see if there’s something lasting between us first—before we make a mess of things?”

  “I get the logic, but I now see that it’s harder than I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For one thing, I feel like a seventeen-year-old boy again around you.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t feel my age around you. I’m not an anxious person normally. I’m fairly self-confident. I don’t wander around in a state of confusion, but now that you’re here, it’s like I’m a day-dreaming teenager with a hopeless crush on the most popular boy.” Arching her eyebrow at me, she said, “And it’s really fucking annoying—especially at work.”

  “It’s harder for me.”

  “How so?”

  “Seeing you…every day…looking so lovely, I just want to touch you all the time.”

  Nicki gave me a half-hearted smile, and I worried that I’d sent the wrong message. Slowly, I moved my hand over her cheekbone. Her skin was as soft as ever, and I ran my thumb lightly over the small wrinkle on her forehead—the one I was sure I’d had a hand in making. I expected her to pull away, but her eyes remained fixed on mine.

  “I loved you, Nicki,” I said. “And to my eyes, you’re still the fairest of them all.”

  “Adam…”

  A sheepish smile overtook me, and I sighed. “But now you’re also this fascinating woman. I want to touch you, but I want more. I want to hear your stories. I want to listen to your opinions on things. I want to get to know you again.”

  She smiled and took my hand in hers. “I loved you, too.” Like me, she’d declared her love in past tense; it would be foolish to presume anything different. Yet it was nice just to hear about what once was. Then she added, “I also want to get to know you again.”

  “Actually, that’s not my preference.”

  “Really?”

  Running my hand down her soft skin to her shoulder, I said, “My preference would be to take you to my bed, shut the fucking door, and let no one see us for days. The rest of the world be damned.”

  “That sounds…fun.” She giggled for a second, but then that damn seriousness took over again. “But the world is still o
ut there, Adam. We can’t do that.”

  Just then, Lisa called from inside, “Nicki? Adam? We’re gonna watch a movie. Do you want to come inside?”

  “I think we should go in,” Nicki said. “Is that okay?”

  It really wasn’t okay. Yet I felt like I’d made some headway with her, so I said, “That’s fine. Though I hope she didn’t let David choose the film. He has terrible taste.”

  His pick of films was always designed to get a woman away from the television and into another room. That proved to be the case again when Lisa objected to tonight’s choice.

  David said, “We don’t have to pay attention, love.”

  “Ha,” she retorted with an annoyed look.

  The room was set up with a couple of sofas and chairs. Lisa and David sat on one sofa, respectably apart from one another. Nicki and I did the same, but as the lousy film started, she settled in. She kicked off her shoes, curled up on the sofa, and sank down deep into the cushions. I wanted to maneuver my way closer to her, but I thought it would be too much.

  After only a few minutes, David’s maneuvering had worked once again. Lisa deemed the movie “unwatchable.” I could hear him try to get an invitation to her bedroom, but she only allowed the balcony. I caught Nicki watching them, too.

  With David gone, I thought I might offer to switch channels, but Nicki gave me a little smile and sank further into the sofa. After a short time, I realized she’d fallen asleep. I smiled. That’s right. I remember now. Nicki used to always fall asleep during films.

  She looked peaceful, if uncomfortable with her head flopped to the side. I had an idea. First changing the channels to find something better, I settled on the replay of Tottenham versus bloody Chelsea. Then I situated myself comfortably into the corner of the sofa before gently moving Nicki’s head so it rested on my shoulder. When Nicki started to move on her own, I froze. Shit. I woke her up.

  But her eyes didn’t open; instead, she surprised me and nestled her head onto my chest and clutched onto my sleeve. Then she sighed. I smiled. Feeling her against me made me want to sigh, too.

  Only nominally paying attention to the football match, I thought back to when we were young and found ourselves alone. We’d quietly talk and laugh and fuck—a lot. We’d also sleep, though. Living in the memories, I wrapped my arm around her, and Nicki responded by curling her body against mine. I studied her to make sure I hadn’t woken her up, but she was still asleep.

  She was so beautiful in my arms. She felt light and warm, and her mouth looked ready to be kissed. I wanted to do it, but I knew she should be awake for something like that. Then, just as I was raising my eyes to the television, I heard her say my name.

  My eyes went back to her. She still appeared to sleep. Then she whispered my name again. I watched her eyes, but she didn’t stir. I quietly laughed to myself. I forgot. Nicki talks in her sleep.

  I used to love listening to her talk. I’d stay awake sometimes just so I could hear her. Most often she mumbled random things, or she’d be in a dream with her mum and let out a whining, “Mom, please!” She’d also say her sister’s name, which was heartbreaking to hear. I’d hug her tightly when I heard that. At times she’d say my name, and at others she’d say she loved me. Those were the best times.

  She was quiet for a minute until she whispered, “I missed you.”

  She seemed sad, yet I considered her words and decided it didn’t sound like I was headed for rejection. She then said something that gave me hope: “Please don’t go.”

  What was she dreaming? Not caring if I woke her up, I answered aloud, “I won’t go anywhere without you, Nicki.”

  Her nose crinkled as if I’d interrupted a private conversation, but soon her expression softened when she snuggled her head against me. She slept again, and I went back to watching the football match. Occasionally, I’d touch her hair, reminding myself she was really there.

  I must’ve sat for an hour like that until she started to stir. After flinching a few times at the light and the sound of the TV, her eyes blinked open. I smiled down at her. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  My voice put her whole body on red alert. She jerked up and out of my arms. Looking around for her bearings, she apologized. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You were tired.”

  “No, really. I shouldn’t have.” She stopped speaking and stared at a wet spot on the throw pillow. “Oh God. I drooled.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m so embarrassed. I—”

  “Nicki, it’s okay.” I touched her hair and stated the obvious. “It’s just me.”

  The obvious seemed to be less so for Nicki. She gazed at me as though comprehending something for the first time—like something had just clicked. Then faster than I myself could understand, her mouth was on mine.

  It began as a brief kiss, followed by a hesitation. Just when I thought she would pull away, in seemingly one motion she was on her knees and straddling me, her hands cupping my cheeks. Her touch made me want to smile, but as my mouth opened a bit, I felt her tongue on my lips. My whole body felt the invitation.

  So, for the first time—once again— we really kissed. I met her tongue with mine as my hands found her back and pulled her closer to me. For some reason, I had to tell myself, It’s Nicki.

  For the next few minutes, hands were in hair, bodies were pressing together, and our mouths couldn’t get enough. A faint voice in the back of my mind said maybe I should pull away so we could acknowledge what was happening between us. But my body quickly dispelled that notion; it just wanted more Nicki, and she was all over me. She may have been petite and soft, but her mouth and hands were aggressive and demanding. The only thought that occurred to me was to do exactly what I wanted to do: take her to her bedroom, slam the door, and damn the world.

  Of course, my dick got me in trouble. Acting on instinct, I grabbed her bum and pulled her toward me. She eagerly pressed herself against my erection, but when I rubbed it against her, she froze. Then she broke the kiss.

  I cringed, not wanting it to end. I feared she would pull away, but she didn’t. Placing her forehead on mine, she sounded a bit out of breath. “I…I’m sorry, Adam. I shouldn’t have let this happen. It’s not right.”

  That hurt—it had felt very right to me. Had she not been there with me? “Not right? Are you sure?”

  “No…I’m not sure about anything.” She did pull back then and looked at me squarely. “Wait. That’s not true. I’m sure about one thing.”

  I must’ve looked like a sad, petulant child. I sourly asked, “And what’s that?”

  “That I want to spend more time with you. That I know for sure.”

  I remembered what she’d said in her sleep…what we’d talked about outside. She’d come a long way in one night. There wasn’t any reason to push it.

  “Well, get some control, woman,” I said, deciding to joke. “Get off me before you kiss me again.”

  She bit her lip but soon became radiant. Giggling, she tousled my hair one more time before she sat next to me. It wasn’t close enough for my liking, but it would most definitely piss off Juan Carlos. I liked that idea.

  We talked football as we watched the end of the match. She informed me she’d dated some bloke at university who’d spent a term in London and become a Chelsea fan. I sneered, “I hate him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he dated you when I couldn’t and he’s a fan of the most God-awful annoying team in the Premier League.”

  “Juan Carlos likes soccer, too. I can’t remember who he likes in the UK. I get the names confused. Maybe Arsenal?”

  “Even worse! Why did you tell me that? Now I really hate the short-arse!”

  “Short? Come on. Not every guy towers over the world like you.”

  “Why are we talking about him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Yes, let’s.�
� She poked my arm. “You know, I still have that Liverpool scarf you gave me.”

  “You do? I’d forgotten about that.” What a lie. Of course I remembered, and learning that she’d kept such a silly gift pleased me to no end.

  David and Lisa soon walked back in the room. When David saw the TV, he said, “Football? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I should’ve. Nicki’s a Liverpool fan.”

  Nicki elbowed me in the ribs, and as David praised her, he eyed both of us, looking for signs of what had happened while they were out. I glanced at Lisa, who shifted awkwardly as she patted her hair. It appeared David might’ve convinced Dr. Roberts to play doctor with him.

  Everyone agreed that it was time to call it a night. David gave me a look indicating he wanted a minute alone with Lisa, so I let him walk into the foyer with her while I turned to Nicki. I thought I might swoop in for a peck, but she pointed in our friends’ direction and whispered, “I want to listen.”

  From the foyer, we could hear Lisa say, “We have absolutely nothing in common.”

  “After that kiss, I’m pretty sure we’ll have the most important thing in common,” David said.

  “Whatever. You can’t base a relationship on that.”

  David was relentless. “Are you kidding, princess? It’s the key to any successful relationship.”

  “Well, he’s right,” I said to Nicki.

  “I suppose so.” She giggled softly.

  “I should leave before you attack me again.” I hoped to get a rise out of her.

  “I think I can control myself.” Then her dark eyes twinkled. She leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Now get outta here.”

  As David and I walked back to my car, he said cockily, “Well, cuz, I’d say we made some progress.”

  Still high from being with Nicki, I had a spring in my step, and I slapped him on the back. “Indeed.”