Chapter 12

“What is it he’s gonna want that you can’t offer? It’s so obvious he just wants YOU.”

“Well, kids for one. He has no idea about all of that. OH! This sweater is cute!” Ciara pulled a pale blue sweater from the rack holding it up to her body and looking down to see if it was too long. “You like?”

“On you, yeah…not my style. So, do you really think he’s ready to get married?”

“No, I really don’t. Dee, we’ve not even told each other we love each other. It’s understood, but…neither of us say it.”

“Are you exclusive?” Deanna pulled a yellow tank off the rack and held it up for inspection.

“I am. I don’t know about him.” Looking up to her friend, “God, are you serious? That is AWFUL!”

“Thanks, bitch.” She grudgingly put it back. “Don’t you think that’s something you ought to know?”

“I assume so…I mean, let’s put it this way, if he’s seeing someone else, she’s getting the short end of the stick because he’s always with me and calling me and checking in with me.”

“Then he’s yours…all yours.”

“Yeah, most likely. I’m just scared, as usual.” Ciara pulled a purple shirt-shaped fuzz ball off the rack. “My God…do people actually wear this in public? No wonder it’s on the sale rack.”

“Might be cute for clubbing or something. Let me see it.” Deanna took the top and held it up, checking the price tag. “And girl, I get fear. Your romantic history isn’t stellar, but hon…you always keep the shit and toss the gems. And THIS is shit. Toss it. Ick.” She quickly put the fuzz ball on the rack, turning her nose up one more time.

“Tell me ONE gem I had. Just one.”

“Pat.”

“You never knew him.” Ciara eye-balled the door. “Out. This place sucks.”

“Yep. I’m following.” Deanna put one last possibility back on the rack, quickening her pace to catch up with Ciara. “And you’re right, Ci. I never met Pat, but I know what he meant to you and I know how you’ve made a total mess out of your love life since his marriage. You always assumed it was going to be you.”

“Yeah, that I did, but HE made the mistake that kept us apart.”

“Who told him to walk to begin with…what led him to that girl’s arms?”

“Me. I did.”

“And you’ve briefly dated lots of really nice guys, but you just…Ciara, you know I love you, but…you just BITCH them right out of your life. It doesn’t seem like Nick will put up with that shit from you or you’d have probably done the same to him by now. Your history is helping here, but…aw, hell. I don’t know what I’m sayin’, Ci.”

“I think I’m hearing you fine. And you’re right. I’ve lost lots of good ones along the way because I got scared. And just between you and me…”

“Yeah?”

“I do NOT want to lose Nick, Deanna. I’ve never felt this way before. Including Pat. I mean, I was 18 when we split anyway. I’d hope that by age 26 I’d have some deeper feelings for someone.”

“Then you’ve gotta quit keeping shit from him. I don’t mean talking marriage, but he has to know what all you’ve got going on with your health. It’s part of being with you. I have had to learn about it and accept it. It’s about time you give him the same respect.”

“He’s walked through enough of it with me.”

“Then you know he’ll deal.”

“No, I don’t know that. The only men I’ve told stuck around and were ultimately screwing me anyway.”

“Because, Ci, they were assholes totally separate from you. YOU had nothing to do with it other than you allowed it.”

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me what an idiot I’ve been.”

Ci…you know that’s not what I mean.”

“It should be. I suck at men.”

“You just suck, Ciara. Now stop whining and buy me a pretzel. I didn’t bring any cash.”

~~~~~~******~~~~~~******

“DAMMIT! UGH! NICK!” Ciara tried the jar of peppers one more time before she finally walked away from it smacking her hand on the counter in frustration. “Nick! Where are you?”

“I’m here, I’m here.” He jogged down the stairs looking too damned good for a Saturday afternoon. “What’s up?”

“I can’t get this stupid lid open. My hands…they’re…” She plopped herself on a bar stool sinking her face into her hands. “I’m sick of this shit.”

Nick effortlessly opened the lid sliding both over to her. “What’s up with your hands?”

“They hurt like hell, I have no strength in them and…and I’m getting impatient with it.”

“What’s causing that again? I thought you’d taken care of it a few years ago.”

“I thought so too, and it’s not as bad as it used to be, but…Nick, I’m even having problems putting IV’s in patients at work.”

“Oh, that can’t be good. Are you able to get someone else to help?”

“Most of the time, yeah. But, it’s part of my job. They’re not gonna let me keep that up I don’t think.”

“What helps?”

“Rest. Drugs. I could just cut ‘em off….”

“Cute. Well, uh…I think I might have a cure for them.”

“You’ve got some good drugs?”

“Uh, no. Been there, done that…but rest. Do you have any time off in the next few weeks?”

“Been there, done that? What?” She thought, but she didn’t know for sure. No way…and…well, not now. Seems as though they both had a few confessions to bring to the table. Trying to redirect her panic, she got up and joined Nick in the kitchen to continue making the one dish she could cook.

“Nothing…never mind. Old news. What’s your schedule like in mid December?”

“Normal. I’ve got a few extra days and I always work Christmas, so everyone owes me, why?”

“How would you like to go to the Caribbean with me?”

She stopped chopping the sausage and spun around. “What!? Oh wait…that Lupus thing. I forgot about that.” Lupus. Yeah, how could she forget, huh? If he only knew. She went back to chopping, hoping to keep her eyes from his.

“Yep. That Lupus thing. I want you to come with me.”

“Oh. Wow. How relaxing will that be anyway? I mean, fans are going just to get near you and Howie, aren’t they?”

Nick heaved a sigh, constantly trying to ignore that small detail of the trip. “Yeah, most likely, but it’s a damned big ship and I know security will be tighter than it was last year.”

“I’d hope so. So, uh…you realize people will see us together? I mean, are you ready for that?”

“The question is, are YOU ready for it, Ci? You’ll instantly be my whore in some of their minds.”

“Well, I’ve been that anyway, so what difference does their opinion make?”

“What!? Ciara!” Nick grabbed her arm, making her stop her now almost frantic actions and turned her to face him. “Uh, wait. Put the knife down first.” He looked down, smiling meekly at the large knife between them. “Please.”

Her eyes followed his. “Oops. Heheh.” She put the knife on the cutting board and turned back to him, never looking back up. Not the eyes. Must stay away from those eyes. “And you heard me, Nick. I’ve been your whore for 3 years. Why not let them talk about it now?”

“Is that truly how you see this? How you see us? Especially now? What the hell, Ci!”

“How do YOU see it, Nick?” She released her arm from his grip and started tossing the sausage in a pan. “For two years I’d see you as often as you were in town and even travel to find you on the road. We’d hook up, talk about our lives, have great sex and go our separate ways. Doesn’t that make me your whore?”

“Jesus, Ci. I NEVER looked at it that way. And besides, what about what we had separate from the sex? What about what we have NOW!? I thought we had something else here. I thought….dammit, would you stop cooking and LOOK at me!?”

She stopped stirring and quietly turned the heat off the skillet. Turning around, she finally let her eyes rest in his.

“Ten years, Ciara. Every last one of them matter. Or am I still the naïve little boy, here and missing something?”

Nope he’s not missing a thing. She was doing it again. Pushing him away. Waiting for him to run. Trying to “bitch him away” as Deanna says. But this was different. He was fighting for it, for her and no matter how much it might hurt, at least for now, she couldn’t walk away. Ten years was too much to walk away from and even if they’d have just met that night in the bar a few weeks ago, she couldn’t do it. Like she realized that night, he owned her mind, body and soul.

“Talk to me, Ciara. I can’t read minds, especially that fool head of yours.”

She couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t know what the hell she was getting herself into, but…”Kiss me.”

“Oh no. Uh-uh. Answer me first. You’re not gonna get out of it this time, Ci.”

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” She heaved a tired sigh and took his hands in hers. “I’ll go. We’ll deal with whatever comes from it later.”

“But what you said, Ci…”

“Forget it. I’m scared. Fans scare me. You scare me. Life scares me. Just…just kiss me.”

He searched her eyes for answers that, even though he couldn’t define them, were somehow there. How did she do this to him? Without another word, he leaned down and took her face in his hands, touching her lips softly with his. “YOU scare ME, Ciara.”

“While you’re here, uh…” She leaned back to the counter, grabbed a jar of marinara sauce and offered a cheesy grin. “Could you open this too?”

***

 

 

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