Chapter 35
AN: Thanks to Bianca, Veronica, Laureen, and ESPECIALLY Mary and
Susan for the ideas!! :)
“Are you
okay?”
Nick looked
over at Claire, who had quietly asked the question as soon as they had reached
the parking lot of Dr. Somers’ office.
She looked up at him, her expression meek, her eyes troubled.
“I’m okay,”
he answered her with a nod, hoping to alleviate her worries. Surprisingly enough, he was being
honest. Seeing Leah had caught him
off-guard, that was for sure – she was the last person he’d expected to meet up
with that afternoon. But he’d come away
from their encounter reasonably unscathed, and he felt much better than he had
the last time he’d seen her, in a grocery store the previous year. The way she had looked at him, the haughty
arrogance on her face and in her voice… it had bothered him then. But this time, he’d realized after he’d had a
chance to re-compose himself, it hadn’t bothered him so much. If she had been trying to make him jealous,
it hadn’t worked. She was “happily”
married and had a beautiful child… so what?
He was happy too – reasonably happy, most of the time – and he had
Claire.
Claire… she’d
been both his weapon and his shield.
Just having her there by his side and feeling her arm around him had
comforted him and given him confidence.
Leah was his past, he’d been reminded.
Claire was his present… and his future.
There was no need to keep dwelling on the past when he had that kind of
a future to look forward to.
Claire
reached for his hand and gave it a warm squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she said as they walked to his
Jag. “I was hoping you wouldn’t run into
her… I almost forgot she was there, until she came out.”
“It’s
okay,” he assured her. “You couldn’t
help it. It wasn’t the first time I’ve
run into her since… well, you know… and I’m sure it won’t be the last time. We live in the same city.”
Claire
nodded. “As long as you’re okay.” She paused, then added, “You were right, you
know. She is a bitch. All that fake sweet talk… ugh.”
Nick
chuckled. “Oh, I know… believe me, I
know.” With the push of a button on his
keychain, he unlocked the car doors, and he and Claire climbed in.
“So,”
Claire said, fastening her seatbelt, “where are we headed?”
“Home,”
answered Nick automatically and waited until she looked over him, unable to
hide the disappointment on her face.
With a grin, he added, “To change.
Then we’re going out.”
Her look of
disappointment transformed to one of excitement. “Really?”
“Really,”
he promised as he backed out of his parking space. “I want to make up for these last few weeks…
I know they sucked for you too, and I’m sor-“
“Don’t
apologize,” Claire silenced him, touching his arm. “We’ve already been through this.”
“I know,”
he said sheepishly, “but I still feel bad, and I want to make it up to you and
treat you right. So we’re going to go
out and live it up fancy tonight. It’s
July 1 – we’re gonna put the shitty month of June behind us and start this
month off on the right foot.”
“Sounds
great, Nick,” Claire replied, flashing him a broad smile. A moment later, she added wryly, “So speaking
of the right foot… or left, I should say… how’s it holding up?”
“Oh!” Nick
exclaimed, realizing she was talking about his fake leg. “Um, good so far, actually.”
“Good! I know I don’t have to tell you to make sure
you don’t overdo it this time, right?”
“No, you
don’t, Mom.” Taking his eyes off
traffic, Nick glanced over and gave her a quick wink. She didn’t have to tell him, that was for
sure. He wasn’t stupid – there was no
way in hell he was going to mess things up like that ever again. He was going to wear his leg out that night,
but he didn’t have anything strenuous planned – an elegant dinner at Tampa’s
most extravagant restaurant (after what he’d put her through, Claire deserved
nothing less than a five-course meal at a five-star restaurant) and after that,
maybe a walk on the beach. A simple
date, but he thought it was romantic and hoped she would like it too.
“So where
are we going?” Claire asked again once they’d reached home. “I mean, what should I change into?”
“Something
dressy,” replied Nick. “We’re goin’
fancy tonight, baby.”
She raised
her eyebrows in surprise, but did not protest.
An hour later, she was back in the car beside Nick, looking
sophisticated and pretty in a little black dress that hugged all the right
curves and flattered her figure. A small
aquamarine pendant hung on a delicate silver chain around her neck, and in her
ears were matching earrings. She’d
touched up her makeup, adding more than she usually wore, and pinned up her
hair, leaving little wisps swirling around her face. Rarely did she dress up this way, and though
he liked her natural look just fine, he had to admit, he enjoyed seeing her
like this.
“Wow… we are
going fancy!” Claire exclaimed as Nick pulled into the parking lot of the
restaurant.
“You ever
eaten here before?” Nick asked as he came to a stop and put the car into park.
She
laughed. “Ha, like I could afford
this. Or have ever dated someone who
could afford this.”
He smiled
awkwardly and adjusted the lapel of his black Armani suit. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, I
guess. You’ll get a kick out of this
place; it’s fine dining, all the way… I’m talking five-course meals, multiple
forks…” He chattered on and on as he
came around to her side of the car and offered her his arm, trying to be a
gentleman. Smirking, she took it, and
together they crossed the parking lot, her heels clacking against the
pavement. Their pace was slow, as she
appeared to be struggling to stay in her strappy shoes, while he struggled to
simply walk normally, without an obvious limp.
(A month off of his leg had left him out of practice.) They made quite a pair, he was sure.
“Monsieur
Carter,” the maitre d’ greeted Nick as he escorted Claire into the
elaborately-decorated entrance area of the restaurant. “Your table is set, if you would just follow
me…” The tuxedoed host led Nick and
Claire through an elegant dining room to a small, private room in the
back. “Mademoiselle,” he murmured,
pulling out Claire’s chair for her.
“Thank
you,” she said, sinking down lightly into the chair. After the maitre d’ had seated Nick as well
and left the private room, Claire burst out laughing. “He called me ‘Mademoiselle!’” she
cried. “I’ve never been anywhere where
they call you ‘Mademoiselle’!”
“Well, get
used to it, Mademoiselle. When
you’re with me, it’s first class all the way,” Nick replied with a smirk and a
wink.
“Oh right, Monsieur
Carter.” She rolled her eyes and
grinned across the table at him. “I have
a feeling this place is going to make me feel like some uncultured hick.”
“Eh, you
won’t be alone there; I always feel that way in places like this,” Nick told
her truthfully, shrugging. “But it’s fun
once in awhile. And I wanted to take you
someplace fancy. Only zee best for my
mademoiselle,” he added in a French accent.
Claire
giggled. “I’ll say. Look at all this silverware!” She eyed the shiny silver utensils, neatly
lined up on both sides of her plate.
“I told
you!” Nick exclaimed.
“Do you
know the etiquette for stuff like this?
Which fork to use first and whatnot?”
Nick
shrugged. “I just start from the outside
and work my way in; that’s what Kevin told me once.”
“Good
enough for me,” she said with a laugh.
A waiter
came to take their wine order, and before long, they were both sipping on
glasses of an expensive, rich wine. The
first course came next, some kind of mushroom soup. Claire was not even halfway through her bowl
when the waiter brought the next course, a fillet of salmon with red wine.
“How is zee
fish, Mademoiselle?” asked Nick in the same French accent, as she picked up the
fork furthest from her plate and took a bite.
“Très
ex-zee-lent,” she replied in an equally terrible accent, grinning. “And yours, Monsieur?”
“Oui oui,
très… good.”
Claire
giggled. The giggling continued through
the remaining three courses, increasing with each glass of wine she
finished. Nick was not much better. By the time dessert arrived, he was reciting
poetry in a Pepe Le Pew voice. But the
only romantic poetry he knew was song lyrics, and the only love songs he could
think of on the spot were Backstreet Boys’ ones, which made Claire laugh even
harder.
“ ‘Every
leetle zing zat you have said and done, feels like eet’s deep within moi…
doesn’t reelly matter eef you’re on zee run, seems like we’re meant to be…’ ”
Claire
snorted. “Who wrote those lyrics
anyway? Isn’t that a little creepy, not
caring who someone is, what they’ve done, whether or not they’re on the run…?”
“Hey, don’t
be dissing Max Martin; he’s da man,” Nick warned, momentarily forgetting the
French accent.
“My
bad. Continue.” She took another drink of wine and did a
fancy little flip of her wrist, motioning him on.
Nick racked
his brain, trying to think of more song lyrics.
He went with the first words that popped into his head. “ ‘I stare at your face, into your eyes…
outside zere eez so much passing us by… all of zee sounds, all of zee sights…
over zee Earth and under zee sky…’ ”
Claire
wasn’t laughing this time, but she did smile.
“That’s the song you sang to me in the hospital.”
“Yeah… it
is,” he realized. He hadn’t even thought
of that when he had started reciting the lyrics, but as soon as she said it, he
remembered. Maybe that was why it was
those lyrics that had materialized in his head… they were special to her, even
if he had not realized it right then.
“ ‘Too much
cold and too much rain… too much heartache to explain…’ ” Claire smiled. “I like this song a lot better than the
creepy ‘I don’t care if you’re a serial killer, as long as you love me’ one.”
Nick
smirked. “Good… at least you like one of
them.”
“It’s a
sweet song. You sound sweet singing it.”
He
grimaced. “I probably didn’t that
day.” In his mind, he traveled back to
that day, to that moment, when Claire, weak, feverish, and in pain, had asked
him to sing for her. It was not a moment
he liked to think about.
“You
sounded beautiful, Nick.” Her smile was
sincere, but he didn’t believe her.
“You were
all doped off at the time, and you’re tone deaf,” he said with a playful
smirk.
“And I
thought it was beautiful. And that’s all
that matters, right?” She flashed him a
toothy grin.
Nick
chuckled. “Zat iz true, Mademoiselle.”
Claire
dipped her spoon into the lavish mousse sitting in front of her. “Mmm,” she said, “this is really good. Best part of the meal. And I’m gonna eat it all.”
“Hungry?”
Nick asked, watching as she shoveled another large spoonful of the rich dessert
into her mouth.
“I
shouldn’t be, after five courses,” she replied, swallowing, “but yeah.”
“The
portions here are tiny though,” said Nick – he was still hungry too. “Damned skinny French people… don’t know
anything about American appetites.”
Claire giggled again. “Next time,
we’ll go to a steak house and eat till we puke.”
“Sounds
like a plan,” Claire nodded as she finished the last bite of mousse.
“We could
pick up a pizza on the way home, if you want.”
“Hm… I
could go for pizza, if you’re still hungry too.”
Nick
nodded. “Let’s get pizza.”
“Call
Leonardi’s now – then it’ll be about ready by the time we leave and drive over
there.”
Snickering,
Nick dug his cell phone out of the pocket of his dress pants. Claire sat across from him and laughed the
whole time, as he called for the number for Leonardi’s and then placed their
pizza order from the middle of the finest French restaurant in Tampa. “Twenty minutes,” he said with a grin as he
shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Half an
hour later, they were on their way home, a pizza box filling the car with the
delicious aroma of bubbling cheese and spicy pepperoni, while a 12-pack of beer
slid across the leather backseat every time Nick made a turn.
“This is
more like it,” said Claire, licking pizza sauce off her fingers as they sat
side by side on Nick’s couch, the open pizza box on the coffee table in front
of them.
Nick took a
long swig from his beer and burped loudly.
“You said it, babe.”
“Charming,”
Claire smirked and let out a low groan.
“I’m stuffed now.”
“Me too,”
Nick agreed, patting his stomach. “You
wanna shove the rest in the fridge?”
“Sure.” Sliding off the couch, Claire scooped up the
pizza box and carried it into the kitchen.
When she returned, she asked, “So… what now? Movie?”
Nick made a
face; he’d watched way too many movies over the last month. “Can we just go take a walk or something?”
Claire
smiled. “A walk sounds great.” She held out her hand, and he grabbed it,
standing up. Together, they went out
onto the deck and down to the beach. The
sun was just setting over the water, casting a beautiful reflection of rich
purple and orange across the rolling waves.
Nick had lived along the beach for years, and he still never got over
the beauty of the sunset. A cheesy
thought, maybe, but seeing the sun set over the gulf was one of those little
things that made him glad to be alive.
It was something special, something he was glad to be sharing with
Claire on their six-month anniversary.
When they
reached the sand, Claire stopped and kicked off her black flip-flops, which
she’d traded with the heels she’d worn to the restaurant. She was still in her dress, though, and he in
his suit (minus the jacket and tie, which had been discarded on the living room
floor). He balanced on his prosthesis
and held on lightly to her arm as he lifted his good leg and reached down to tug
off his shiny black dress shoe and black sock.
He set his bare foot down and dug his toes into the warm sand. Then he bent and untied the laces of his left
shoe before carefully pulling it off. He
slid the sock off as well, exposing the plastic foot of his artificial leg, and
rolled up the cuffs of his black pants.
“Ready?”
Claire asked as he straightened up.
“Yep.” He took her hand, letting his fingers slip
between hers, and they started off down the beach. They wandered leisurely along the water’s
edge, the waves lapping at their ankles as they rolled in and out. Hand in hand, they walked in peaceful
silence, each lost in thought and simply enjoying the moment. Every now and then Claire’s hand would slip
out of his as she darted into the surf, returning with a shell she’d scooped up
from the water-logged beach. “You’re
like a little kid,” Nick joked the third time this happened, remembering how he
himself had ran in and out of the tide as a little boy, jumping waves as if
they were hurdles and picking up interesting shells along the way. He’d had quite a collection of them at one
time, but his big glass jars of seashells were gone now. They’d been thrown out, he supposed, during a
move or something. Funny, he almost
missed them now, though he wasn’t quite sure why. After all, they were just a bunch of old
shells…
“So what?”
Claire asked with a casual shrug. “It’s
fun to be able to act like a kid again sometimes.”
“Yeah,”
Nick said, wistfully thinking of those trips to the beach during his childhood
again, when he had run like the wind, through the sand and into the sea,
laughing and playing without a care in the world. Those were good times… happy times… innocent
times. Before life became so
complicated. Sometimes he did wish he
could go back.
But then
again, this moment in itself was pretty nice.
It felt good to get out of the house and do something with Claire, even
something as simple as this, a walk down the beach at dusk. Nick enjoyed the exercise, although as Claire
let go of his hand again to collect another shell, he felt a familiar twinge in
his stump. He stopped, then carefully
put weight on his left leg, testing it.
Sure enough, pressure turned to slight pain. Groaning, he looked back to see how far
they’d gone from his house. Not too far
– he could still see it, the lights in the windows casting a glow through
rapidly darkening night – but it was farther than he wanted to walk at the
moment, knowing the pain would only increase with each step. He’d pushed himself enough already that
night… he knew it would stupid to go further and get hurt again.
“You
ready?” Claire had returned.
He looked down at her. “Um… you think we
could rest for a minute? I’m sorry,” he
apologized quickly, “but-“
“No, no,
that’s fine!” she interrupted him, smiling as she took hold of his arm. “Come on, let’s go sit down where it’s dry.”
Relieved,
Nick let her lead him a few feet away from the water, where the sand lay arid
and untouched. He eased himself down and
stretched his legs out in front of him; it felt good to take a load off. Claire plopped down beside him, folding her
legs to the side and smoothing the skirt of her dress over her knees. “Is it hurting?” she asked hesitantly,
looking down at his left leg and then back up at him, her expression pained.
“Just a
little,” he told her. “I just thought
maybe I should stop and take the weight off it for a few minutes.”
She
nodded. “Good idea. I guess it’ll probably take you a little
while to get used to walking on it again, won’t it?”
“Probably,”
he sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“What are
you sorry for? This is nice, sitting out
here. It’s so quiet… and peaceful, you
know? It’s a good place to just sit and
talk.”
“I know,”
said Nick, smiling at her. She smiled
back and reached for his hand. He let
her take it, entwining his fingers with hers once again. “So…” he murmured, running his thumb lightly
up and down hers. “Six months, huh?”
“Six
months,” she repeated softly, another smile lighting her face.
“Can I make
a confession?”
“What?”
Nick
swallowed back the guilt that had risen in his throat and offered her a
sheepish grin. “I don’t have anything
for you. I-I should have gotten you a
gift, and… well, I…” He shrugged,
showing her an empty hand. “I’m sorry.”
Claire
snickered and shook her head. “Nah,
don’t be sorry; I don’t have anything for you either. And I have no excuse – I haven’t been stuck
at home for the last month. I just
wasn’t sure what to get… or if we were even doing anniversary presents. So we’re even, okay? We can just be each other’s gifts.” She flashed him a cheeky smile.
He smiled
back weakly. “That’s fine with me, but I
think you got the raw end of the deal there, my dear. I’m damaged goods… you might have to return
me.”
The smile
left Claire’s face instantly, and she gave him a warning look. “Nick… please, don’t say stuff like that.”
“I was just
kidding,” he said quickly – and he had been.
But how could she have known that?
She’d been dragged to so many of the pity parties he’d thrown himself in
the last month, she’d probably forgotten he even had a sense of humor. He sighed.
“Seriously though, Claire… I know I haven’t been acting like a very good
gift lately.”
“How
exactly does one act like a gift?” she asked, hiding a smirk.
He stuck
his tongue out at her. “You know what I
mean. I haven’t been acting like a very
good boyfriend. I don’t know if
I’ve shown it or not, but… even if the last month has been kind of shitty, I
want you to know that I’m really glad you’re here… that you’re living with
me. I know it hasn’t been easy for you,
but I promise, it’ll get better.”
“I know,”
she said, squeezing his hand. “Why do
you think I’m still here? I know the
last month has sucked for you, Nick, and I also knew that you’d snap out of
your pissy little mood once it was over.”
“You know
me too well,” he said, grateful, as always, for her compassion. He’d never been with a girl that understood
him as well as Claire did. His past
girlfriends had put up with him, for his money, or his fame. But he knew she wasn’t like the others; she
wasn’t in this to get rich and famous off of him. She was still with him because she truly
loved him – there was no other explanation.
Any other woman would have left him by now, he felt certain. But not Claire. She’d been with him for six whole months, and
by his side as a friend for much longer than that. It added up to only a little over two years,
but to Nick, it seemed like so much more than that. He felt like he’d known her forever. And he hoped that he would know her
forever, that their six months would turn to years… years and years
together. Never had he thought about
being with one woman for that long. He’d
loved Leah, enough to propose marriage, but deep down, he had known their
relationship would not last forever. But
he and Claire… they had been through so much together already… “forever” didn’t
seem like such a hard goal to achieve.
“Whatcha
thinking about?” asked Claire, and, realizing he had slipped away for a moment,
Nick looked up to find her gazing at him, a hint of a smile curving her lips.
“You,” he
replied honestly. “How you’re the only
person I’ve ever felt this way about.”
Her smile
grew. “What way?” she asked, a playful
gleam in her eyes.
“Like…” He paused, struggling to put his thoughts
into words. “Like I want to be with you…
for… for a long time. I’ve never been
very good at making long-term commitments with people… and when I try, I end up
getting burned, because I find out that the girls I’m with… they don’t want to
be with me. They’re in love with
my name, my face, my bank account. But
you’re different, Claire. I love you…
like I’ve never loved anyone before… and I know that you love me too.”
“I do,” she
whispered, tightening her grip on his hand as she looked into his eyes, her
face showing the honesty in her words.
He nodded
and swallowed. “That’s what keeps me
going sometimes… knowing that you’re there for me, that someone still cares
about me the way you do. I have to
remind myself of that sometimes… on mornings when I wake up and see this
goddamn stump under my covers and don’t feel like even getting out of bed. I think of you, and I remind myself that I have
to get up and get dressed and put on my leg, for you… because I never want to
disappoint you.”
“Nick… I… I
guess I’m flattered in a way, but… honey, you should be doing those things for you,
not for me. You shouldn’t worry about
disappointing me… you could never disappoint me.” Leaning forward, she put her arms around him
and pulled him into a hug. “I love you,”
she whispered into his ear. “Even when
you lie in bed all day, moping.” She
brought her lips to the side of his neck, placing a tender kiss there. He squirmed and instinctively burrowed his
head into his shoulder to get her away from the ticklish spot. She drew back, giggling softly. “Ticklish much?”
“Shut up,”
he retorted with a sheepish grin, rubbing the spot where she had kissed him.
She
laughed, and then without warning, slapped one of her shins. “Mosquito,” she said, when Nick gave her a
look of bewilderment. “Damn things are
always trying to eat me alive.”
“Oh…” Nick looked around, hoping there weren’t
more. “Maybe we should head back.”
“Only when
you’re ready.”
“I wouldn’t
want you to get a West Nile or some shit like that.”
Claire
snickered. “Oh man, that would sure be
the kicker, wouldn’t it? Survive
leukemia; die of West Nile Virus? What
are the chances?”
It wasn’t
really funny, but Nick smiled a little.
He loved her attitude; she wasn’t afraid of anything. Well, she was – and he knew it – but
she hid it well. He knew that too. “Come on,” he said and struggled to his feet,
always a difficult task.
“Are you
sure?” asked Claire, who hadn’t moved.
She looked up at him, moderate concern on her face.
“Wouldn’t
have gotten up if I wasn’t sure,” replied Nick.
“Too much of a hassle.”
She offered
a sympathetic smile and stood up as well, brushing sand off the back of her
dress. “I think we could use a trip to
the dry cleaner’s tomorrow,” she commented, making a face. “My butt’s all sandy. So is yours.”
He giggled as she gave his ass a swat, wiping loose grains of sand off
of his pants. “There, that’s better,”
she said. “Let’s go. I’m ready to get out of this dress and into
some pj’s.”
“I’m ready
for another beer,” said Nick.
“That
too.” Claire reached for his hand again,
and they started slowly back up the beach, toward the house. Nick didn’t realize how much he was limping
until Claire stopped and looked over at him.
“You’re hurting, aren’t you?” she asked.
Nick
shrugged. The rest had made his stump
feel better, but walking brought back the discomfort. It wasn’t unbearable – no worse than the
strain he’d felt in it when he’d first learned to walk on the artificial leg –
but he couldn’t deny that it did hurt a little.
“Not bad,” he told her, “but yeah… a little.”
“Do you
wanna sit down again?”
“No,” Nick
said quickly. “No, let’s just keep
going. I can make it.”
“I don’t
want you to get another ulcer…”
“I haven’t
overdone it that much,” Nick said assuredly.
“It’s just like when your feet get tired after walking around all day…
that’s all it is.”
Claire bit
her lip, looking uncertain, but finally, she nodded. “Okay, come on. But here, put your arm around my shoulders…” She guided his left arm over her shoulders
and slid her right arm around his waist, offering him some support. “Will that help, if you lean on me a little?”
He hated
having to rely on someone like this, but he had to admit, it did help, having
her to take some of the weight off his left leg. “Yeah,” he admitted, “this is better.”
They walked
like that the rest of the way, close together, their arms around each
other. By the time they reached the
house, Nick was exhausted. He collapsed
onto the bed in his room as soon as they walked in and lay there, while Claire
walked back and forth through the room, changing out of her dress and into an
old t-shirt and cotton pajama shorts, washing the makeup off her face, and
trading her fancy up-do for a messy ponytail.
“I have
mosquito bites, look,” she said when she emerged from the bathroom, climbing
onto the bed beside Nick. She held out
her arm, and he could see several bites.
“I think there’s some on my back too.”
“Aww… I’m
sorry.”
She shrugged. “Not your fault. You didn’t bite me.”
Propping
himself up on his elbows, Nick waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I could…” he said.
Claire gave
him a look. “No thanks, Dracula. I’m gonna go get the Calamine lotion; you can
put that on.” With an impish grin, she
rolled off the bed and left the room.
Rolling his eyes, Nick wearily sat up and moved to the edge of the
bed. Standing up, he undressed quickly,
changing into a worn t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He was just pulling off his artificial leg
when Claire came back, a large pink bottle of Calamine lotion in her hand. “How is everything?” she asked, as he bent
over his stump, checking for blisters.
“Fine,” he
replied; the skin was a little red, but not broken. Relieved, he turned down the covers on his
side of the bed and scooted backwards until his back was pressed against the
pillows. He pulled the top sheet and
thin blanket over his lap and patted the empty space on the other side of the
bed. “You comin’ in?”
“Of
course.” Claire bounced onto the bed
beside him and held out the bottle of Calamine and a handful of cotton
balls. “Please?” she asked, sticking out
her bottom lip pleadingly.
“What am I,
your private nurse?” Nick asked with mock irritation, taking the supplies from
her hands.
“No, you’re
my boyfriend. Now get to it; they
itch.” Shooting him a grin, she pulled
her shirt over her head and turned so that her back was within his reach. He could see a few puffy white blotches
dotting her skin in the places her dress had not covered. He tipped the bottle of Calamine against a
cotton ball, saturating the cotton with pink lotion. Setting the bottle aside, he placed the
cotton ball against a bite in the middle of her back. Claire shivered, her back and shoulders shuddering. “Cold!” she gasped.
“Sorry,”
apologized Nick, lightly rubbing the cotton over her skin until the bite was
covered with lotion. Then he sought out
the next bite and continued. By the time
he was done, she looked like a leopard, her back dotted with half dollar-sized
pink circles. “Man, they really were
trying to eat you alive,” he observed, raising his eyebrows at the sight.
“What can I
say? No one can resist me.” She flashed him a cheeky smile over her
shoulder.
He smiled
back and put his hands on her shoulders, gently easing her back until she was
resting against him. “I sure can’t,” he
said, bringing his lips down to meet hers.
She ended
the kiss giggling and rolled off of him.
“I’m gonna grab another beer,” she said, getting up. “You want one?”
“Sure.”
She left
the room and returned with two cans of beer.
She handed him one as she climbed back onto the bed and settled herself
by his side, her body leaning against his slightly. As they cracked open their drinks, Claire
asked, “So, is there anything on TV?”
Nick
swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I dunno, why don’t you turn it on and look?”
he replied with a smirk.
“Why don’t
you hand me the remote then?” she shot back, and he grudgingly picked up the TV
remote from his night table and gave it to her.
She turned on the TV and started flipping channels. There wasn’t much on, but finally they
settled on the Sci-fi channel, which was playing some cheesy 70’s horror
movie. They watched as they drank, laughing
and making fun of it the whole time.
By the time
the “climactic ending” was over, Nick had laughed so hard he was afraid all the
pizza and beer in his stomach was going to come back up. But it felt good, laughing like that. He’d laughed a lot that night, more than he
had in weeks, it seemed.
Tonight had
been a good night. And forget the fancy
French restaurant. This, he decided as
he looked over at Claire, was the perfect way to spend their six-month
anniversary. Just lying in bed together,
laughing, enjoying each other’s presence.
No need for flowers or expensive gifts; no need for classy, romantic
nights out. He didn’t feel the need to
impress her, and she didn’t need to be impressed. This was enough. This was perfect.
He felt her
body shift against his, and he smiled unconsciously. He loved the feel of her up against him, the
comfort she gave him just by being there.
He’d been searching for this for so long, for a woman who could make him
feel the way he did then, without saying a word. He thought back to what he’d told her
earlier.
“I want to be with you… for a long
time. I love you… like I’ve never loved
anyone before… and I know that you love me too.”
“I do,” she whispered.
In that
instant, he realized what he’d known for over a year. He’d found her. And he was never going to find another woman
like her.
“Claire?”
She turned
her head, looking up at him, her questioning eyes illuminated by the flickering
light of the television. His mind raced,
but not with thoughts he could comprehend.
At that moment, all he could understand was the feeling burning deep
down within him, warming him from the inside out. Love.
It was love, love for the one person who made him feel complete, the
woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
He reached
for her hand, tucking it within his own.
The words had already formed on his tongue. Without hesitation, he opened his mouth and
let them out.
“Marry me.”
***