Forever Your Heart

by Mary Whitney

  “Fine with me,” I said as I rinsed a plate. I didn’t need to make small talk with the neighbors as they gave us another meat pie for Dad.

  “Well, hello there!” Mum’s voice rose in the distance.

  I stopped what I was doing. It didn’t sound like she was talking to a neighbor.

  “Adam, stop with the dishes. Come here!”

  Quickly drying my hands, I walked to the vestibule. As I entered from the hallway, I balked for a second when my heart jumped. There, talking with Mum, was Nicki.

  Mum saw me and cried out, “Adam, you didn’t tell me Nicki was coming.”

  Answering my mother but speaking directly to Nicki, I smiled. “I didn’t know if she would.”

  Nicki still wore her suit from the workday, so she must’ve come straight from an official function. Her eyes were tired, but her skin was bright against the red of her blouse. She looked gorgeous and not the least bit mousy.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said.

  Gazing warmly at her, I walked straight over and took both of her hands in mine. After I kissed her cheek, I said, “Better late than never. Thanks for coming, sweetheart.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  MY LIPS HAD BARELY LEFT Nicki’s cheek before she squeezed my hands. Whilst I took her gesture as a good sign, I didn’t want to read too much into it. Even though she was standing in my parents’ home, I didn’t know why Nicki had come all the way to Cambridge.

  After all, she could’ve been acting out of guilt and come only to maintain our friendship. Or worse, The Washington Post’s Reliable Source was right, and Juan Carlos had given Nicki a ring. The very possibility made me sick.

  With that uncertainty in the back of my mind, I gently released her hands. She gave me an anxious look and slipped her hand back into mine. Why does she need reassurance, I wondered, but I didn’t linger long on the thought. I was too happy to be holding her hand again, which cured me of my panic. Good. She’s not engaged…yet.

  I glanced over to Mum, who was beaming at us, intently watching our actions. She startled when I caught her staring, and she sputtered, “Oh. Yes. I should tell Dad that Nicki is here. He’s probably still awake, watching the telly.”

  As Mum hurried to their bedroom, I turned back to Nicki. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I wanted to.”

  She punctuated it with a sheepish shrug, which I took as encouraging. I brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “You look tired.”

  “It’s been a hard week.”

  Knowing that my storming out on her had something to do with that, I wanted to frown as well. Instead, I squeezed her hand and murmured, “You and me both.”

  Then Mum called from the hallway, “Adam, your father is awake, and he’d love to talk to you, Nicki.”

  Holding Nicki’s hand tightly, I led her down the dimly lit hall toward my parents’ room. When I noticed that I had to pull her along, I looked back to see why she lagged. I thought she might be dreading going to see a dying man; instead she was examining the family photos on the walls. I chuckled. “If you really must see photos of me on my first day of nursery school wearing school shorts, I’m sure Mum can show them to you later.”

  “I’d like that.” She laughed.

  When we entered the bedroom, Dad was under the covers in his pajamas and dressing gown, though upright and alert. He greeted her at once. “Nicki! Good evening.”

  “Good evening, Professor Kincaid.” Nicki walked straight over to him and extended her hand with a smile. “Thank you for seeing me this late.”

  “Not at all.” He shook her hand and held it a bit longer than his usually reserved manners allowed. “It’s so kind of you to come all the way out here. I’m sorry we couldn’t visit you while you’re in London.”

  “Oh, it was an easy trip for me.” Pointing toward the hall, she added, “And this way I got to see some old photos of Adam.”

  “Ah, yes. I’m sure he loved that.” Dad gave me an approving grin, but it wasn’t for anything I’d done. It was for Nicki.

  Finally.

  Gesturing to the armchair by his bed, Dad said, “Nicki, please sit here with me for a while. I’d love to hear about your work.”

  Nicki dutifully sat next to him and answered all of his questions. I sat in another chair at the end of the bed, listening to the conversation between them. Mum stuck around for a few minutes but then left to finish cleaning the kitchen.

  Nicki would occasionally glance over at me as they talked, but Dad never did. His attention remained squarely on her. Whilst he appeared as sickly as he had at dinner, his mood was happier—like he looked forward to something. It was odd for him to be so eager, given what lay ahead. Yet, at that moment, he was fully engaged as if he was still a part of this life.

  Indeed, he was so enmeshed in their conversation that he started lobbying Nicki to tell President Logan to increase funding for geological research. Not wanting to put Nicki in an uncomfortable spot, I began to interrupt him, but Mum called for me.

  Shit.

  I stared at the scene before me. Given our history, Dad’s failing mind, and Nicki’s unpredictability, I wanted to monitor whatever they might talk about. Dad’s lobbying was the least of my concerns about what topics they might cover.

  What if he brings up the past?

  Just as I was about to tell Mum to wait, Dad urged me, “Go on, Adam. See what your mum needs.”

  “But…er…”

  “It’s okay,” Nicki assured. “I’ll keep your father company.”

  There was nothing I could do, so I nodded and promised to be back straightaway. When I entered the kitchen, Mum had concocted the most ridiculous chore, asking me to switch two entire china dinner services from one cupboard to another. We never used that china. She obviously wanted Nicki and Dad to talk alone.

  I glared at my mother’s simpering smile. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”

  “No. You’re leaving early tomorrow. I want it done now.”

  “All right…”

  I worked as quickly as I could, but I had Mum haranguing me for every clink of a dish. After ten minutes or so, she declared, “Okay. I can do the rest.”

  Fleeing back to the bedroom, I walked in to see Dad’s eyelids half-closed as he droned on, remembering different places around the States. Nicki sat listening patiently to him and answering his questions. I no longer cared about what they’d talked about while I was gone. All I could think about was how much I loved her.

  Nicki glanced up at me and smiled before she said to Dad, “Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor Kincaid, but Adam is back. I should get going if I’m going to catch that last train.”

  Dad fought to raise his eyelids, a losing battle as he reached for her hand. “Yes. You should. Thank you for coming, dear. It’s been nice to catch up with you.”

  “I feel the same way. Thanks for having me. This was the most fun I’ve had all day. Good night.”

  Then as if confirming his own thoughts, he said, “Such a pleasant girl.” He focused on her for a second before adding, “Take good care of my boy.”

  My heart stopped at what Nicki might say, but she took his request in stride. She patted his hand. “Of course I will.”

  I cleared my throat, but not for effect. I needed to remove the lump that had lodged in the back. “Nicki, I’ll take you to the railway station.”

  When our eyes met, the wondrous warmth in hers gave me enough encouragement to walk over and place my hand on her shoulder.

  Dad smiled, withdrew his hand from hers, and closed his eyes. “Good night, you two.”

  As he rolled over onto his side, I escorted Nicki out of the room. Walking hand in hand with me down the hall, she said, “You know you don’t have to drive me. I can take a cab.”

  “Ridiculous. I’ll give you a lift.”

  I didn’t want Nicki to leave, but the fact that she had to was the only thing that got her out of Mum’s clutches. Before she left, Mum extracted a promise t
o see her again the next time she was in the UK, and Nicki happily said yes.

  As we drove to the train station in Dad’s old Benz, we didn’t talk about him. Nicki asked questions about Cambridge—the different buildings, my neighborhood. She seemed genuinely interested, but also like she was directing the conversation.

  When we pulled up to the station, I saw that she had some time to wait. “You have a few minutes,” I said. “Don’t leave yet.”

  “I won’t.”

  Turning off the car, I noticed her staring at her hands. I felt guilty as hell. My blow-up at her the last weekend had made everything awkward between us again. I was about to beg her to forgive me for being such an arse—to tell her how much I missed her—to let her know she could take as much time as she wanted to decide about us.

  But she broke the silence first. “I’m sorry about your dad. This is so hard for you.”

  My instinct was to react as I always did when someone told me that—I’d shrug and make a fatalistic comment, moving quickly to another subject. But this was Nicki, and she’d just seen everything. I stared at the steering wheel and whispered, “It is hard.”

  “Oh, Adam …”

  I felt her hand at the nape of my neck, and I silently leaned into its comfort as I closed my eyes. Feeling my own pain, I updated her on Dad’s condition. “He’s declined. A lot. He’s barely eating, and the jaundice is awful. It probably won’t be too long.”

  “No, it probably won’t.”

  I heard a rustle, and then Nicki leaned over and kissed my forehead.

  That was it. I was tired of her ambiguity. I looked her straight in the eye. “Why did you come here, Nicki?”

  “I came for you.”

  “That doesn’t tell me much.”

  “Maybe you’re not listening.”

  She smirked as she said it, and I sighed. When she was being cute like that, it was hard to press her. Plus, I knew I wasn’t going to get anything more definitive from her that night. It was late, and we both needed to get going because the president left for Turkey the next day. Our next big talk would have to wait.

  She surprised me, though, with a breathy kiss. “I love you, Adam.”

  “I love you.” I smiled. “Thanks again for coming.”

  “Thanks for asking me.” Her eyes darted to her watch. “I need to run. Istanbul in the morning, you know.”

  “Take care. I’ll see you in the morning on the plane.”

  She leaned in once more for a peck, but I surprised her this time by sneaking my hand onto her hip and opening my mouth to hers. She responded at once with a deep kiss and gripped my shoulder tightly, so I slid my hand between her legs. Catching me being naughty, she let out a warning, “Adam…”

  “The tease doesn’t like being teased, does she?”

  She let out an evil giggle and landed a swift kiss on my cheek before she was out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Mum was cheery at the breakfast table. Dad was still sleeping, so we were alone. She only mentioned Nicki’s name once, but it was enough.

  “It was so nice of Nicki to trek out here last night.”

  “Yes, it was.” I didn’t look up from the Financial Times. “She didn’t have to do that.”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “You’ve become very close again, haven’t you?” Her voice was hopeful.

  Looking up from my paper, I smiled at my mother’s eagerness but decided to say as little as possible. “We’re friends.”

  Mum’s grin widened at my simple statement. Clearly, less meant more.

  I noticed the time. I needed to leave the house early if I was going to fly on Air Force One with the rest of the press corps. Checking the kitchen clock again, I said, “I’m sorry. I need to leave soon. I don’t want to wake Dad, but I’d like to say goodbye.”

  Mum waved her hand, brushing my thought aside. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t mind, and he’ll roll over and go back to sleep.”

  The bedroom door cracked as I opened it, but Dad didn’t stir. I panicked that something might be wrong. Luckily, I could see him breathing, though his breaths were slow and shallow. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I said, “Dad, I need to leave, and I’ll be gone for a week. But I’ll be back soon.”

  His face twitched as he heard my voice. After a moment, he blearily blinked his eyes, saying, “You carry on, Adam.”

  There was his order again. I was supposed to go on with my life. “Sure. I will, Dad.”

  “Good. Give us a call later.” Then his eyes shut tight again, and he mumbled, “That Nicki is such a pleasant girl.”

  “Yes, she is.” I smiled down at my father. “Goodbye, Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, son.” With that, he pulled the blanket over his shoulder and went back to sleep.

  We landed in Istanbul late that morning, and the NATO meeting started soon after our arrival. The long day of talks meant that I barely saw Nicki, so we only exchanged hellos and a few knowing looks during the main press event. It was a grueling schedule, and I had multiple interviews to do back-to-back. By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I planned on going straight back to the hotel and staying in for the rest of the night.

  When I was leaving the loo, though, I ran into Matthew, Nicki’s boss. The NATO talks had gone well for the US that day, and he was especially cheery.

  “Adam! Good to see you! You doin’ okay?”

  “I’m good, thanks. You all right? You must be chuffed with the day.”

  “Yes, it’s been a good day, and we get to go home tomorrow.” He grinned. “Hey, we’re going out with some of the press corps tonight. Come with us.”

  No matter how tired I was, “yes” was the appropriate answer to such an invitation from Matthew Foster. And another thought came to mind that made me really want to attend: Nicki might be there.

  After I got to the restaurant, the party was already in full swing. Nicki wasn’t there yet, so I sat between two German reporters I knew from my early days at the BBC when I used to cover Europe. We talked football, and as much I liked them, if Nicki wasn’t going to show, I would rather be in my hotel room actually watching a match.

  Unfortunately, when Nicki finally did arrive with Matthew, that arsewipe Dan Roark waved her over to him. As they sat and ate together, I kept an eye on Dan, who I could tell was looking down Nicki’s blouse when he got a good vantage. Bastard. I decided to stay out that evening as long as Nicki did. There was no way I was leaving her with that leering wanker.

  After dinner, Matthew and I spoke a bit, but a DJ had started playing music, and the place got too loud for comfortable conversation. Matthew soon tapped his watch, saying he needed to get back. He called to Nicki, who looked like she was going to follow him, but Dan, Lydia Mixon, and a few others begged her not to leave. Nicki’s eyes darted over to me, and she quickly said, “Oh, I’ll stay around here for a little longer.”

  A group of reporters left with Matthew, so I moved over to Nicki’s table to better hear her. She still wasn’t sitting beside me, but at least I could listen to what Dan said to her. The two weren’t talking, though. The female journalists had taken control over the conversation at the table, gossiping about a recent wedding.

  Talk of wedding flowers was mind numbingly boring. Weary of the subject, I looked around at others at the table. I soon noticed that Lydia kept staring at Nicki. I wondered if it was because of Dan, but despite my hatred of him, he didn’t appear to do or say anything inappropriate. Then I clued in to what had to be on Lydia’s mind—Juan Carlos. Always gossipy, she would be the one to inquire about the published photo of him walking into Tiffany’s. She’d get the answer I’d been wanting.

  As soon as there was a lull in the conversation, Lydia casually remarked, “So, Nicole, if we should believe The Washington Post, I think you’ve got some news for us.”

  Also bored by the wedding talk, Dan became as alert as I was when he heard the new topic. He
leaned back in his chair and eyed Nicki. “Yeah, that’s right. The Reliable Source mentioned Juan Carlos at Tiffany’s. Should I offer you my congratulations?”

  The questions were personal, but no one could say they weren’t reasonable—especially Nicki. Even if the photograph and caption were located in a gossip section, it still constituted a report in a respected newspaper. Inquiries about it were appropriate.

  Nicki’s expression was bland like she was already bored with the topic, even if we weren’t. She toyed with us. “How do you know what he was buying or who it was for?”

  “Well, we don’t,” Lydia said, her eyes growing wide at the prize gossip she was about to obtain. “But you do. Please, Nicole. Are you engaged?”

  “No.” Nicki shrugged. “He hasn’t asked me.”

  “Are you going to say yes?” asked Dan, leaning in even closer to her, the bastard.

  “Why on earth would I tell you?” Nicki laughed a little nervously and looked at me. For once, I wish she’d actually answered a question from Dan.

  “That’s a good enough answer for me,” he said, poised to rise from his chair. “You’re still single at the moment. How about we dance?”

  Nicki agreed and took his hand without looking at me. I glared at them as they moved onto the dance floor. A naff love song was playing, and Dan seized on the opportunity to take Nicki in his arms.

  A few eyebrows at the table went up in curiosity, but no one said anything as they danced. Dan was a notorious ladies’ man, so most dismissed his flirtation and nonsensically parsed every one of Nicki’s words instead to see if she might actually be engaged. Their chatter was background noise to me. I was busily monitoring the scene, paying special attention to Dan’s right hand and whether it would wander over Nicki’s bum. I also studied Nicki, but she just smiled and talked to the arse.

  My rational brain knew she was just being polite, but my jealous side wasn’t so reasonable. As soon as the song came to an end, I was on the dance floor right beside them. Within seconds of their hands releasing, I asked Nicki, “May I?”

  Her eyes disapproved, but she said, “Sure.”