Chapter 166
On
Christmas morning, Nick and Laureen woke up early and in varying states of
undress. A boxer-clad Nick pushed his
half of the covers off of himself as he sat up in bed, stretching his arms
above his head, yawning widely, scratching his bare chest, running his fingers
through his matted hair. Beside him,
Laureen pulled her half of the covers tighter around her unclothed form and
smiled sleepily up at him from her pillow.
“Morning,”
he said softly and returned the smile, thinking of last night and how they had
made love on the beach. He had tried to
go slow and be gentle, wanting to make the experience sweet and enjoyable for
her. And it had been, from what he could
tell. It certainly had been for him
anyway. There was a certain romance to
sex on the beach that even he could appreciate.
A soft cushion of sand beneath them, an endless sky of glittering stars
above, and not a soul around but them, they had lain in each other’s arms for
what had seemed like hours, the bonfire and the heat of their bodies warming
them, their heavy breathing turning even and slow as the flames waned.
Finally,
when the fire had died and a chill was cemented firmly in the air, they had retreated
to the house. Nick could still picture
Laureen flitting up the deck stairs, fleece blanket wrapped tightly around her
naked body, the bells on the fringe jingling all the way. His smile grew at the memory. He had teased her about the bells, and she
had complained that what other choice did she have – it was too cold to take
the blanket off long enough to put her clothes back on. She’d grabbed it and ran.
It was now
draped over a chair in his room, next to which her abandoned clothes were heaped. Wondering if it was time to get up and get
dressed, his eyed shifted from the clothes to the clock. It was early, just after seven a.m.
“What time
is it?” Laureen asked, watching him, and he told her the time. “Mm… it’s Christmas morning,” she murmured,
smiling. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry
Christmas to you,” Nick returned with a grin.
“Think Santa’s gonna be good to you?”
Laureen
lifted her brows. “I think he already
has,” she replied, smirking, as her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.
“Ho, ho, I
think someone’s on the naughty list,” Nick played along, giving her his most
devilish grin. “So it was good, was it?”
Her smile
grew, as did the red splotches on her cheeks.
“Yeah, it was good. I’ve always
heard the second time is better, but I dunno… Christmas Eve… the beach…
you. Not much could top that
combination.”
“Really? What about Christmas Day… the jacuzzi… and
me?” Nick ticked off the first two on
his fingers and finished with his thumb in the center of his chest and the
sexiest look he could muster on his face.
Laureen
giggled. “Well, in that case… the second
time could very well be better.”
“Guess
we’ll find out later, right?” Nick
waggled his eyebrows and grinned.
“Definitely,”
said Laureen, smiling seductively as she sat up, holding the sheet to her
chest. “Should we go see if Santa came?”
“Oh,” Nick
snickered, “Santa came alright.”
Laureen
giggled again, red-faced and shiny-eyed.
“Shame on you, Nick, being perverted on Christmas morning,” she teased.
“I’m not
being perverted. I heard him last night,
pounding… on the rooftop…”
Still
laughing, Laureen shook her head. “Come
on, Saint Nickolas; I want my present!”
“I’ve got a
present for you,” said Nick, sliding the covers slowly off of his lap,
revealing his boxers inch by inch.
“Check out this package right here…”
“Nick!” she
shrieked in mock frustration, though her giggling ruined any glimmer of
plausible seriousness. “I saw that
package last night; now I want what’s under the Christmas tree!”
“I better
see if I can squeeze under the Christmas tree then,” Nick grinned. “Race you downstairs.” He lunged, which sent Laureen leaping out of
bed, pulling his sheet with her. While
she scrambled to get some clothes on, he leisurely swung his leg over the side
of the bed and reached for his prosthetic one.
“Oh,” said
Laureen with a silly laugh, stopping when she realized she had no competition.
Nick smiled
over his shoulder at her before he went back to his business, suctioning the
prosthesis to his stump as he did every morning.
Behind him,
Laureen picked up her shirt from the night before and coughed. “Ew, my clothes smell like bonfire.”
“Just throw
something of mine on,” said Nick without turning around, casually waving his
hand in the direction of his closet. He
heard her open the closet door and rummage around inside. Eventually, she emerged wearing a baggy pair
of his sweats and a broad smile.
“You
ready?” he asked her, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head.
“Ready!” She danced from foot to foot in anticipation,
reminding of his sisters on the Christmas mornings of his childhood. He caught her as she winced, though, and
smiled in amusement.
“Are you
sore?”
“A little,”
Laureen admitted, blushing.
He offered
an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not
your fault. I guess you expect it your
first time, right?”
Nick
shrugged. “Guess so. Come on, let’s go downstairs – we can take it
slow.”
Winking, he
followed her down the stairs to the living room, where the massive, beautiful
tree sat. There were only a few presents
under it – gifts from him to her, from her to him, and some things from the
both of them to Claire, who, when she’d found out that neither of them would be
spending the holiday with their own families, had invited them over to the
condo for Christmas dinner with her family.
Nick had accepted, partly because he liked the traditional feel of
holidays with her family (and it guaranteed him a good meal), and partly
because he just couldn’t wait to see the look on Jamie’s face when he sat down
across from him at the dinner table.
Maybe he’d even get away with a well-placed kick under the table, on the
basis that he couldn’t feel anything with a plastic foot and didn’t realize
Jamie’s leg was there.
Nick
smirked in amusement, while Laureen gleefully sorted the packages. There were more for him than for her, and as
he looked down at the variety of boxes, both large and small, in front of him,
he frowned and said, “What all did you get me??
You shouldn’t have done all of this…”
He eyed the two gifts sitting in her lap, one box medium-sized, the
other very small, and felt inferior.
Laureen
blushed. “It’s not as much as you
think. You have to open them all
together; they kinda coordinate…”
Nick was
mystified, but nodded. “Okay… well, why
don’t you open yours first, then?”
“Okay…” Smiling, Laureen set a hand on each
package. “Which one?”
“Start with
the big one,” Nick replied with a wink.
The big one was kind of lame, in his mind, but he thought she might like
it. He watched in anticipation as she
pulled off the wrapping paper, lifted the lid of the box, and started sifting
through the tissue paper inside. She
quickly emerged with something flat and square – a CD.
She turned
it over, then held it up, crinkling her nose in confusion. “It’s… your first CD,” she said, as if Nick
didn’t recognize the red-covered original Backstreet Boys album he had
given her. “Which I love, don’t
get me wrong, but I do already have it,” she added with a laugh.
“Bet you
don’t have one quite like this,” Nick winked.
Suddenly
eager, Laureen opened the case – the CD was already out of its packaging – and
gasped. “It’s autographed!” she squealed. “By all of you!!”
Nick
smiled, pleased with himself. She didn’t
know it yet, but still left inside the box were six more Backstreet Boys CDs,
every album they’d recorded, including the greatest hits, all autographed by
Kevin, Howie, Brian, AJ, and himself. It
seemed like such a simple, obvious gift to give, but he’d known she would
appreciate it, and she didn’t even know how much of a hassle it had been to get
them all in his possession in time for Christmas. It should have been easy, a Backstreet Boy
acquiring the autographs of the other four members of his group, but with the
Boys spread across the country, he’d had to Fed-Ex the box of CDs coast to
coast and count on the guys to grant his favor.
In the end, they had come through, and Laureen now had a full collection
of autographed Bsb CDs.
She
squealed over each one, taking a moment to open it and intently study the
liner, running her hands over the signatures.
It was cute to watch.
When she
was finally finished admiring the autographed collection, Nick referred her to
the other gift, which was much smaller.
She took the wrapping paper off this one carefully, as if she already
knew there was something valuable inside.
Nick supposed it wasn’t hard to guess that it was a jewelry box – girls
could always tell.
Laureen
looked up at him for a moment when she unsheathed the flat, rectangular box,
covered by navy blue velvet. Then her
eyes dropped again, as she slowly lifted the lid. “Oh, Nick!” she gasped, when she saw what was
inside. “It’s gorgeous!!”
Nick smiled
as he watched her admire the necklace mounted inside the box. He’d thought of her when he’d seen it at the
jeweler’s – a three-stone pendant, it held a one-carat princess cut diamond in
the center, flanked by a smaller gemstone on either side, rare topaz of the
most extraordinary shade of bright, turquoise blue. He’d been attracted to the blue because it
reminded him of the ocean on a cloudless day, but he also knew that Laureen
liked blue and hoped she would find it pretty.
Judging by her reaction, she did.
“I
shouldn’t ask, but is… this a real diamond?” she asked, fingering the diamond
in the middle of the setting.
“Uh-huh.”
Laureen’s
eyes widened. “Wow,” she breathed, “I’ve
never owned a real diamond before. But
the blue is even prettier! Thank you so
much, Nick!!”
“You’re
welcome. C’mere, lemme put it on you,”
he offered, beckoning her over.
Smiling,
Laureen carefully removed the necklace from its box and positioned herself in
front of him, her back to him. She held
her auburn hair out of the way while he unclasped the necklace and put it
around her neck, fumbling to refasten the white gold chain.
“How does
it look?” she asked when he’d succeeded, turning around.
To be
honest, she looked a little silly wearing that necklace with one of his old
sweatshirts, but he smiled broadly and replied, “Beautiful.”
Laureen
beamed. “Thank you,” she said
again. “You really shouldn’t have… A real diamond… wow. But I do love it.”
“Good. I thought my girlfriend deserved to have some
nice bling to wear when we go out,” he explained, winking.
Her smile
grew, and as their eyes met, the unspoken covenant was agreed upon. As if last night’s tryst hadn’t cemented it,
it was official now, their boyfriend/girlfriend status.
“Open yours
now,” Laureen urged a few moments later, and Nick obeyed, but he noticed, while
glancing up occasionally as he started unwrapping, that her eyes kept dropping
to the necklace resting against her chest, her fingers gingerly rubbing it
every few seconds or so. He smiled,
pleased that she liked it.
He wasn’t
sure what to expect from her gifts, but when he opened the first box, which was
also the largest, he was more surprised than he’d imagined to pull out a stark
white blazer and matching suit pants. He
couldn’t conceal the bewildered look he shot Laureen, who immediately stifled a
giggle.
“Don’t
react yet,” she said, holding up her hand, while the other remained over her
mouth. “Open the other boxes.”
Nick did
and found a plain, bright teal-colored t-shirt (ironically, almost the same
color as the gemstones on Laureen’s necklace) in one and a pair of used-looking
white loafers in another. He stared at
his girlfriend. Surely, she could not be
serious. Hadn’t the Miami Vice look gone
out of fashion, like, two decades ago?
“What are
you thinking?” asked Laureen, a hopeful smile on her face.
“I’m
thinking you want me to dress like Don Johnson?” Nick’s response was more of a question; he
had no idea what this was all about.
He’d never had a girlfriend who couldn’t pick out clothes; usually, they
were better at dressing him than he was.
“Open the
last one,” she urged.
Nick went
for the remaining box, a medium-sized one, and found inside… a dress?!
It was a
dress alright, a party dress straight out of the 80s, made of taffeta, with a
strapless black bodice and a short, full skirt made of poofy ruffles in a shade
of bright teal that matched the t-shirt he’d opened earlier.
Holding the
dress up, he eyed Laureen suspiciously.
“I hope this is for you to wear, not me. I can’t wear short skirts – I don’t have the
legs for it,” he lisped in a girly voice and then added, with a wink,
“Literally.”
She
giggled. “It is for me to wear. But there’s one more thing,” she said, and
handed him a card.
Hoping the
card would explain everything, Nick opened the envelope and pulled out not a
Christmas card, but a certificate, printed on stiff paper, which read, Good
for one dance at Club Nite-Glo.
He looked
at Laureen over the top of the coupon; suddenly, the clothes made sense. Club Nite-Glo was an 80s themed nightclub in
downtown Tampa, where they played 80s music, and people came dressed in
outrageous 80s fashion.
“So you’re
asking me a on a date to Nite-Glo, huh?” asked Nick, waving the certificate.
Laureen
smiled brightly. “A few years ago, you
told me you don’t dance anymore, and I said I didn’t dance either. Well, we’re gonna dance. Dressed in this stuff,” she explained,
fingering one of the ruffles on her dress.
“I won’t
feel self-conscious at all,” teased Nick, winking at her. When she blushed, he added quickly, “I’m
kidding; this is great. It’ll be a
blast.” Really, it would be, to go out,
dressed in gaudy 80s garb, and jam to hair bands and Debbie Gibson. And he thought it was cute that she
remembered a conversation they’d had three years ago; that made the gift more
meaningful.
“Really? So you like it?”
“I love
it,” he replied, leaning over the pile of clothes to kiss her. “Thank you.”
She beamed. “You’re welcome!”
***
Claire
stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and smoothed her red
maternity top down over her belly, glad to be upright and dressed in something
other than pajamas or sweats. She’d
unwrapped the new blouse, a gift from her mother, that morning and, wearing it,
she felt more like a real person than she had in weeks. In fact, she felt like a woman again,
rather than an overstuffed sausage. She
smiled into the mirror, admiring the way the plunging neckline accentuated her
swollen breasts (one of the perks of her pregnancy) and the flowing material
that draped gracefully over her distended front. Pausing to adjust the delicate string of
pearls around her neck, an heirloom from her maternal grandmother, she left the
bedroom and returned to the living room, where most of her family was dressed
and waiting.
Kyle,
Amber, and Kamden, who had opened their presents to each other and from Santa
Claus at home that morning, had arrived while Claire, Jamie, and her parents
were still in their pajamas, finishing up their gift exchanges. Now it was midday, and Nick and Laureen were
due to arrive for their afternoon Christmas dinner anytime. Claire had extended the offer once Nick
revealed that neither of them would be with their families, and she was glad he
had said yes. She loved having a lot of
people around at Christmas, especially if she didn’t have to cook and play
hostess. And as she was on bed rest, she
was exempt from both this year. This
would be the most walking she’d probably do all day, much to her frustration.
“You look
nice, honey,” said Jamie sweetly as she came over to join him on the couch.
Claire beamed at the compliment.
“Thanks! I thought you’d be glad
to see me not looking dumpy for once.”
“Aww,
housewives are supposed to be dumpy.
Unless they’re Eva Longoria.”
Claire let
out a snort. “Well, even when I’m not
pregnant, I have no hope of looking like her, so don’t set your expectations
too high there, buddy.”
“Never.” Jamie winked.
“I love you just the way you are…”
Lowering his voice, he gave her a devilish smirk, pulled her close, and
nuzzled her neck as he added, “Freckles and firecrotch and all.”
Reddening,
Claire gave him a smack and hissed back into his ear, “It’s Christmas, and my
family is in the room; stop it!”
“You love
me too,” Jamie replied simply with a big grin, as he tried to pull her out of
her spot next to him and onto his lap.
He ruined any hint of romance within the gesture by letting out an
exaggerated “Oomph!” when she lowered her weight onto him.
Claire
twisted herself around to smack him again.
“Soon I’m going to outweigh you, and see how you like it when I beat you
up then,” she retorted, poking him squarely in the chest. She’d gained nearly forty pounds already with
the twins, and with one trimester to go, she would easily pass 170 before they
were born. She found that she didn’t
really care; it was fun to be pregnant and have an excuse to gain weight. Much better than packing on twenty pounds
from the side effects of chemo.
“I don’t
think beating me up is one of the activities your doctor will allow,” Jamie
pointed out, poking her back.
She was
spared from an all-out poking war by a knock at the door. “That’s probably them!” she said, immediately
climbing off of Jamie and returning to her spot next to him. “Wanna get the door?” she asked him, but Kyle
had already gotten up to answer it. The
teasing, twinkly-eyed smile left Jamie’s face as they heard the door unlatch
and open and Kyle’s voice say, “Hey, Merry Christmas! Come on in.”
Little
Kamden ran out of the room to see who was there and returned with Kyle, Nick,
and Laureen in tow. Nick was wearing red
(a good color on him, Claire had always thought); Laureen, dark, emerald
green. They were both carrying gifts and
looking vibrant and happy.
“Merry
Christmas, guys,” Claire smiled up at them and invited them to sit down. She’d made Jamie bring some extra chairs in
after they’d cleaned up the small mountain of wrapping paper from that
morning’s festivities.
They both
sat down, but not before Laureen had flitted over to show Claire her gift from
Nick, a gorgeous diamond and blue topaz necklace. Nick told her all about his gift from Laureen
too, and Claire smiled at the thought of him dressed like Don Johnson from
“Miami Vice,” out dancing with Laureen, who would no doubt look adorable in her
eighties dress. It sounded like a lot of
fun. She’d never be able to convince
Jamie to do something like that, unless she got him really drunk first.
“I’ve got
presents for you too!” Claire said brightly, motioning to the two packages that
remained under the tree, next to the ones Nick and Laureen had brought over.
And so,
while her mother and Amber worked in the kitchen, her father and Kyle played
with Kamden, and Jamie stewed, Claire, Nick, and Laureen had their own gift
exchange.
Claire was
thrilled with the presents they gave her.
Nick surprised her with a bright, lime green iPod, which went perfectly
with Laureen’s gift, a device called an iCrib which she’d be able to hook to
one of the twins’ cribs and connect to the iPod to play music for the babies as
they went to sleep. They had clearly
planned the gifts together, as they both also gave her a CD, “Rockabye
Baby! Lullaby Renditions of Led
Zeppelin” from Laureen and, of course, its counterpart “Lullaby Renditions of
Nirvana” from Nick. Claire didn’t
hesitate to put them in the stereo so they could giggle over “Kashmir” and
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” as soothing lullabies.
She didn’t
think her gifts to them were as clever or exciting, but they seemed to enjoy
them and, as she’d expected, Nick laughed at the Dr. Seuss-esque red- and
green-striped stocking cap she’d knitted him, which had, amazingly, turned out
less knobby than she’d imagined it would.
Other than the clashing Christmas colors, it looked pretty good. The only problem was, it was too small.
“Darn,” she
pouted, when Nick tried and failed to get it to fit over his head. “How big is your fat head, anyway??”
“Bigger
than your hat, apparently,” Nick teased.
She was
disappointed – not that she’d actually expected him to wear the thing –
but he assured her that he would find some use for it. “Maybe I’ll give it to Brian,” he mused. “He has a small head. Or his kid; I’m sure it would fit Baylee,
even with all that curly hair.”
“Aww, come
on, it’s not that little!” she laughed.
Nick stuck
his hands inside the hat and tried to stretch it. “It’s pretty little.”
“Poo. Well, at least I know I’ll be able to knit
some baby hats.”
“Do you
need to keep this one as a model for how big to make them?”
“Oh, be
quiet! I’m never making you anything
again!”
Nick just
laughed.
When they
were done unwrapping presents, Laureen gathered the paper up to throw away, and
Nick excused himself to the bathroom.
Jamie went to check on the rest of the women in the kitchen and
returned, saying, “Dinner’s almost ready.”
The
Christmas dinner that followed was nice, with no unpleasantness and no
disastrous events. There were no oven
fires, no preterm labor, and no snide remarks exchanged between Jamie and
Nick. Granted, the two of them didn’t
really talk to each other at all, but at least they conducted themselves
maturely. It probably helped that they
were sitting on the same side of the table, with Claire and Laureen in between
them – a planned seating arrangement – so that they could hardly make eye
contact enough to give each other looks.
After
dinner, Nick helped Jamie and Kyle clear the table and then excused himself
again, while Claire and her father took Kamden back into the living room to
play, leaving her mother, Amber, and Laureen to clean up and do the dishes.
“Aunt
Claiow, watch my song!” commanded Kamden, beating on the toy drum she’d given
him, a gift which had received quite the dirty look from her brother, though
Nick had approved.
“Isn’t Kam
a natural, Nick?” asked Claire with a smile, when Nick came back into the room.
“He’s a
regular Keith Moon,” replied Nick, grinning in return. Shifting his eyes from the three-year-old to
her, he asked, “Hey, Claire, can you come back here for a sec?”
“Sure…” Claire stood slowly, mystified, and followed
him as he led her away from everyone else, down the hall, and into the spare
bedroom, which would eventually become a temporary nursery for the babies once
they were born and home from the hospital.
But for now, there was just a bed in the room, which had come with the
furnished condo.
“What’s
up?” she asked Nick, when he eased the door partway shut behind them. He was making her just the slightest bit
worried with the secrecy, whisking her off in private like this. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,”
said Nick, grinning. “I just wanted to
show you: I found a use for your hat.”
As the
striped hat was not on his head, or anywhere in sight, for that matter,
Claire raised her eyes skeptically.
“Really. What kind of use?”
His eyes
sparkling with amusement, Nick held up a finger. “Close your eyes.”
She did,
and waited for him to say she could open them again. In the meantime, she heard him shuffling
around and the unmistakable sound of a zipper.
“Nick… what are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.
“Hang on,”
he insisted, his voice sounding slightly strained.
More
fumbling around, a soft thud or two, and then finally, he said, “Okay.”
“I can open
my eyes?”
“You can
open your eyes.”
She did and
was greeted with the sight of Nick standing next to the bed in his boxers. His weight was on his good leg, and the fake
one was lying on the floor with his jeans.
He was resting his stump on the bed, and when she looked, she
immediately burst out laughing and buried her face in her hands.
“I knitted
you a stump sock?!” she cried through her laughter, shaking her head. Sure enough, he’d taken the hat was too small
for his head and pulled it on over his stump instead, where it appeared to be a
pretty good fit. It looked pretty
hilarious though, the cheerful red and green stripes poking out from his plaid
boxers.
“It’s quite
cozy, actually,” Nick joked, grinning.
“Think you could make me another one in blue?”
Giggling,
Claire sank down on the bed. “Oh my
god. I try to make you a hat, and it
turns into a stump sock. If I tried to
knit you one of those, it’d probably end up fitting better as a mitten or
something.”
“Now that’s
what I really need to get through a Florida winter: mittens.”
“Just about
as much as you need a knit stocking cap,” Claire laughed.
Nick
snickered. “Yeah, not so much. But hey, I do use these. It actually works pretty well. I’ll wear it every Christmas and think of
you,” he said with a toothy grin.
“How
special,” said Claire, laughing, and without even really thinking about it, she
reached out and touched the end of his stump, her fingers brushing across the
soft, knitted yarn.
It was at
that moment that the door suddenly flew open, and there stood Jamie, glaring in
at the sight of Nick standing in his boxers and Claire sitting on the bed, her
hand on his thigh. She immediately took
it off in shock, but the look on Jamie’s face would not fade any faster than
Nick could get his pants back on.
Claire
realized, after a few seconds’ recovery time, how the scene must have looked to
Jamie, but by the time she began to explain, she could tell her husband had
already drawn his own conclusions and that no explanation, no matter how true
it was, was going to make him think any differently.
***