by Mary Whitney
I looked over at David, who had just poured Lisa a glass of wine. Handing it over to her, there was a genuine smile on his face rather than his usual smirk. “Here you go, love.”
Despite the earth shifting with Nicki telling me she loved me again and Lisa succumbing to David, dinner was light-hearted as Sylvia entertained us with her stories of singlehood in Manhattan. Afterward, we sat outside on my patio, talking and drinking late into the night. As usual, Nicki fell asleep on my shoulder, and when she finally woke up, everyone agreed it was time for the rest of us to sleep.
As the others walked back into the flat, I pulled Nicki into my arms and kissed her hair. “Stay here. With me.”
She nuzzled into my chest but said, “I think Lisa wants to leave now. I should go inside.”
I leaned my head down so I could look into her eyes. “No. I mean spend the night with me.” It was an impulsive request, but I wanted it badly.
“I can’t, Adam.”
She sounded sorrowful, but clearly my declaration of love only had so much of an effect on her. I decided not to probe all the reasons that she couldn’t be with me that night. I could handle the ones about our jobs or even Juan Carlos still hanging about, but I didn’t want to hear that she was unsure of me.
Instead, I asked, “Tomorrow? Can I see you tomorrow, then?”
She kissed my cheek. “Yes, but it has to be late. I’ve got to work. You know…big trip this week.”
“Of course.” It was an important week as the president went to London at the end of it and onward to Istanbul for a NATO meeting. I planned on flying out a day earlier so I could spend time with Dad. I tousled her hair. “So I’ll come over at nine in the evening, then.”
“Great.” She buried her head into my chest again and sighed.
I let myself just enjoy the moment, but she soon gave me little kisses all around my neck. That caught my attention. I lifted her chin to kiss her properly before I told her again, “I love you.”
My heart leapt when she answered, “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twelve
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, I arrived at Nicki’s at nine on the dot. Just as she shut the door behind me, I wrapped my arms around her for a kiss. Whilst there was no holding back for me, she returned the kiss but with more reserve. “This is quite a hello,” she said.
“I thought I’d try some nonverbal communication.”
“Very funny.”
“I think we’re good at it,” I said, kissing her again.
“We sort of learned together, didn’t we?” she said demurely.
“We did.” Any recognition of the best times of our past was a good sign for me. I nodded toward the living room. “Where’s Lisa?”
“In her room. On the phone with David. I swear I might’ve heard her giggle, but I know she’s still toying with him.”
“She’s playing him perfectly, as far as I can tell.”
Nicki laughed and announced we should get some beer, and eventually at my suggestion, we ended up on the balcony again. I knew we were there to talk, but conversation wasn’t on my mind. Sitting on the chaise lounge, I drew her into my arms, and when she objected, my kiss stopped her from saying anything else. In fact, nothing was spoken aloud by either of us for the next few minutes as we snogged away like teenagers. In my arms, she felt soft and warm and mine.
I thought she was right there with me, but she abruptly stopped, whispering, “I love you. But I need to slow down.”
Not thinking, I said what my body felt. “I don’t want to slow down.”
“But I need time.”
I’d always told myself that I’d wait for her—that I was fine taking things slowly to get her back. At that moment, though, I felt just the opposite. We’d wasted too much time already; I wanted her now. I decided my only shot was to tell her the lengths I would go to for her.
“You know I’ll resign tomorrow if it will make you feel better.”
“That’s sweet,” she said with a half-hearted smile. “But it doesn’t change—”
“And I don’t care if you have a reputation for sleeping with the press.”
“Oh, that’s fine for you to say.”
Then I surprised both of us with the punch line. “In fact, I’d like for you to have a reputation for sleeping with me. As my wife.” It was such an off-the-cuff quip that I instinctively second-guessed myself after hearing my own words. Yet in another flash, I knew it was true and the right thing to say. A marriage proposal really hadn’t been on my agenda for the night, but with the way Nicki was acting, it felt necessary to get the idea out there.
“What?” Her eyes widened as she pulled away to assess my intentions. “Adam, I—”
“There. I’ve put my cards on the table. I love you.”
“I…I love you, too.” Her brow furrowed, and her voice was staccato. “But I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I don’t know if you’re ready for it.”
“Well, I am ready. I’m bloody sure of it.”
Shrewd Nicki raised a brow at me. “Are you?”
She was testing me, and I grasped at something to show my commitment. Felicity seemed like a convenient example. “I rang Felicity this morning. Told her we needed to talk when I was in London this week. I’m going to break things off permanently.”
While I tried to ignore the guilt of lying to her, Nicki softly said, “Oh…”
If she wanted to test me, I could just as easily put her on the spot. “What about Juan Carlos?”
She was quiet and held up her hands.
What the hell does that mean? A sneaking fear made me frown. “Well, seventeen years since we first met, I’m certain. But I think you’re not certain about me.”
“I’m certain I love you,” she tenderly declared as she touched my face.
I was about to kiss her, but she looked away. Fidgeting with her watch, she said, “But we loved each other before, and look how that turned out.”
“Aw fuck, Nicki. That’s what’s holding you back? Me messing around with Kate.” It was a bit disingenuous for me to be surprised, but I needed to get us both past our past. I’d spent the last sixteen years in silent contrition, and that had got me nowhere. Maybe anger and impatience would work. “I’m sorry I broke your heart, but you’d broken mine. I was seventeen and a scared, hurt idiot. It’s history, and that’s not me anymore. I want to be with you and only you.”
She stared at me before her face crumpled like I’d put the weight of the world on her shoulders. She whispered, “This is all new…I need time, and this is a bad week for me, and—”
I wasn’t seventeen anymore, but I still carried the same temper. It flared, fueled by the same feeling of rejection she’d instigated all those years ago. Only this time, I wasn’t going to let her get away with it.
“Well, I don’t need time, and it’s not all new. On one level or another, I’ve known this for half my bloody life. It sounds like you may have as well, otherwise you wouldn’t have avoided me for a decade and a half.”
“But right now isn’t a good time—”
“Bollocks. It’s never going to be a good time. We just have to make it happen. If you don’t see that, you’re not as clever as I thought you were.”
Insulting Nicki’s intelligence wasn’t my best move. Her back straightened, and her lip curled. “Given the situation, I think I’m acting very intelligently.”
I rolled my eyes. Even if I’d ticked her off, I wasn’t going to give in. “Maybe acting intelligently, but not smart.”
She pursed her lips, either thinking of what she should say next or stopping herself from saying something rude. I couldn’t tell. We’d hit a stalemate.
I closed my eyes and grasped for straws. How can I make this woman see? Then it hit me. I blurted out, “Come with me to see my dad. Come home with me.”
“What?”
“Just as I said. I want you to come to Cambridge with me. I’d like for you to see my dad before…well, before. It’s important.”
She w
as quiet as she digested what I’d proposed. Slowly, she answered, “Adam, I want to be there for you, but you know I can’t do that.”
“Well, why the fuck not?”
“Because.”
“Because what?” I wasn’t angry with her—she had her reasons. But my whole body raged with hurt and aggravation.
She looked lost and was quiet. I stared at her in silence, trying to squeeze a response from her. She grumbled softly, “Give me some time. I’m thinking it through…”
“Goddamn it, Nicki.” I shook my head, then climbed around her and off the lounge. Yet I kept my eyes on hers and demanded, “Then think. Think about why you won’t. What else is holding you back? Juan Carlos? You don’t love him. If you did, you wouldn’t be here with me. Is it your job? It’s just a fucking job. I’ll tell you, in the grand scheme of things, whatever it is, it’s not important. You’re what’s most important to me. And from what you’ve said, I’m important to you. So let’s stop pissing around and get the fuck on with our lives.”
Nicki sat there stunned. Given her expression, I didn’t expect an answer that night. She didn’t even look like she could formulate a sentence.
After a swig of beer for the road, I informed her, “You know how to reach me. I’m leaving for the UK on Thursday.” Walking away, I muttered, “Good night.”
The moment I got home, I wanted to call her, but I wouldn’t let myself. Nicki had to come to me.
I’d joked with David that he and Lisa were playing games, but in reality, the same was true for Nicki and me. For months now, we’d led each other to and fro. We’d made a great deal of progress, but it was time to get on with things. That’s what I told myself, and that’s what kept me going when she didn’t call.
For the next few days, I worked hard at ignoring her every morning at the White House. I’d occasionally look over at her and wonder if she was doing the same to me; it felt that way. I’d always cross my arms, thinking, Two can play at this game. Unfortunately, my obstinacy hindered my job. I avoided talking with her, asking others questions instead and getting no information because Nicki was the one with the answer.
I slowly understood what my editor, Kent, had meant by saying I should keep things “friendly” with Nicki. As long as we were on good terms and friends, our past relationship didn’t matter; in fact, it only helped. On the other hand, getting romantically involved led to bad terms ninety-nine percent of the time, and bad terms made it so that I couldn’t do my job. I’d tell myself that we’d be the one percent that made it, but as the days wore on without hearing from Nicki, my confidence started to crack.
After I landed in London on Friday morning, I went directly to the BBC before heading to Cambridge. For the next few days, I’d be reporting on Logan’s trip but staying at home. I thought that might make Dad happiest. I could see him, but also carry on.
As I walked the corridors, I bumped into Kent getting onto a lift. He waved to me as the doors shut. “Morning, Adam. Good to see you, and good reports you’ve been sending in.”
I thanked him but all the while thinking he may have seen the last of the “good reports” if I didn’t get things sorted with Nicki. I needed to focus on my job, so I put the dark thoughts in the back of my mind as I combed through old B-roll footage of past presidential visits. Unfortunately, I had my worries about Nicki thrown back in my face when I ran into Felicity.
In her heels, she stood as tall as me and used her height to her advantage. She always sidled up close so that our faces almost touched. Stroking my cheek down to my chin, she cooed, “What’s with the scruff, Adam?”
“I just got off a plane from DC.”
“Maybe you need a shower?”
“It can wait.”
“You could go to my flat. It’s not far away.” She took on a sexy, smug air. “You know your way around my place.”
I should’ve politely extracted myself from the conversation, but I was too irritated, so I let a flippant remark slip. “I’m sure someone else knows it better now.”
She played with one of her earrings and straightened her shoulders. I’d hit a nerve, and not one I should’ve. “Maybe. How about you?”
I shrugged as a non-answer, but she took it as a confirmation.
“Oh really?” She was suspicious. “Who is it? Mousy Nicole Johnson?”
“I thought we were supposed to be above commenting on a woman’s appearance in a professional setting.”
“I’d say this is both a personal and professional conversation.” She became coy. “So do you think she’s attractive?”
I looked aside. If I didn’t answer or said no, she’d be onto me. “Like many spokespeople, she’s attractive. I don’t think she’s mousy at all. In fact, she’s rather pretty.”
“Is she now?”
Shit. I fucked up. “Don’t be daft, Felicity. You’ve seen her for yourself.” Then I lied without misstating anything. “I speak with her every day for work, so of course I know her well.”
“And you’ve also known her in the past. Are you close?”
“Yes. I suppose.”
Not the right thing to say. Her eyes narrowed in inquisition. “How close?”
“Felicity…” I sighed, hoping my understated dramatics would throw her off.
“Someone has kept your attention for the last few months, and you’re mum on the topic. It has to be her.”
“You’re nutters.” I shook my head, hoping my nightmare would end soon. “Nicole and I are old friends. What’s missing in my relationship with you was already evident, with or without Nicole. I’m sure you’ve found me lacking as well. I’m a lousy long-distance boyfriend.”
What I thought might clear the air between us, Felicity took as an insult. Given her status, wealth, and looks, she wasn’t used to being slighted, and it only provoked her. She sneered at me, but after a moment, her face brightened with a menacing smile. I knew I was in for it as she patted my shoulder. “Ah, well then you’ll be interested in the snippet I saw in The Reliable Source blog this morning.”
“You read The Reliable Source?” It seemed strange that Felicity would read The Washington Post’s gossip section.
“Of course, I like political tittle-tattle.”
“So what was it?”
“There was just a photo of Juan Carlos Jimenez entering Tiffany’s. The caption remarked that The Reliable Source was confident that his girlfriend Nicole Johnson knew what he was shopping for.”
My stomach turned inside itself, but I kept a straight face and delivered the line that would let me escape the conversation. “I’m sure Nicki knows.” I smiled and strode past her. “Good seeing you, Felicity.”
Desperate in my thoughts, I pinched the bridge of my nose as I walked along.
Why the fuck is Short-Arse buying Nicki jewelry?
Impulsively, I took my mobile out of my pocket. When I saw it in my hand, though, I came back to earth.
What are you doing, you fool? Calling her to propose? Again? She hasn’t even bothered to call you after the first time.
Granted that hadn’t been a proper proposal and I’d stormed out on her, but if we were going to have a future, she needed to call me.
That afternoon, I trudged home with my luggage and a heavy heart. When the antiseptic scent of the house hit me, I felt even worse. Mum was so happy to see me that my spirits lifted a little, but they came down again when I asked after Dad.
Smiling with all her maternal warmth to reassure me, Mum said, “He’s in bed.”
“Already?”
“Well, he hasn’t been getting out much lately.”
With his shrunken frame, Dad looked almost boyish as he sat in his pajamas, watching the telly. They’d never had a television in their bedroom before, but all the time he spent in there must’ve made it a requirement. The scene was so pathetic to me, but when Dad saw me, he practically cheered. “Adam! I’m so happy you’re home.”
Before I closed my eyes in bed, I checked my mobile one last time.
No word from Nicki. She always called me when I was home, but not that night. No call. No text. Nothing.
It was heartbreaking.
Thanks to my arrival the prior day, I was one of the first members of the media at Number Ten Downing Street the following morning. When President Logan arrived, Nicki hurried ahead of his entire entourage. She successfully warded off the aggressive tabloid photographers by promising an extra, exclusive photo-op with the First Lady later in the day. It was interesting watching Nicki work, and I did so most of the morning as I went about my reporting, but I doubted she saw me.
At one point, Matthew whispered something to her. She flinched and smoothed her hair back. She looked knackered.
Of course. They traveled last night. Maybe that’s why she didn’t call.
I didn’t let my hopes get too high, though, because when she did finally look me in the eye, she didn’t smile, so I didn’t either. I just gave her the same blank, demanding stare that I’d had all week. Her response was different this time, though. Rather than ignoring me, her brow furrowed. She then walked out of my sight.
On the train back to Cambridge that evening, I berated myself over what to do next. I’d always considered myself a person with resolve and willpower, but I was no match for Nicki Johnson. If this was going to be a game of chicken between us, then she would surely win.
But I didn’t want to give in. I still wanted her to come to me, and I especially wanted her to come to me if she was fucking engaged.
Dinner with Mum and Dad was pleasant, if a little depressing. Dad wasn’t eating anywhere near as much as he used to. Nicki’s warning about his appetite kept haunting me.
After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen while Mum helped Dad in the bath. It was then that I understood why he wanted to be alone with his wife. He needed so much intimate assistance that he wished for some privacy. Dad didn’t want his children underfoot, even if we were adults.
It was after nine when I heard the doorbell ring. I was loading the dishwasher, and I heard Mum call from the living room, “I’ll get it!”