Chapter 27
27
Natalie
Nick’s been staring out the window for most of the flight. Granted, I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, but still. I’d like him to push.
I roll my eyes at myself, mad for making him jump through hoops to read my mind. My shoulders fall because it’s not a test or anything. I’d tell him anything if he asked.
I push the empty glass away because the rum didn’t do anything to lift my spirits. I don’t even laugh at Nick’s pun about alcohol. He tried to cheer me up, knowing how much I love a double entendre and his use of alcohol and spirits. It was funny, but my heart hurts too much to laugh. If I lean into any feeling too far, I can tell I’ll swing the other way and be a crying mess on the floor of this plane.
Please let my father be okay.
But Nick deserves better than what I can give, so I need to make it right. I reach over and slip my hand into his, which is on his leg. He glances over, the warmth of his soulful eyes caressing my heart in a simple exchange.
Tilting my head, I rest my cheek on his bicep. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be. You did nothing wrong. We all process trauma differently.” He lifts the armrest and wraps his arm around me, kissing the top of my head.
I slide closer, my seat belt giving enough to let me burrow in the comfort of his warmth. Tilting my head up, I study his profile—the straightness of his nose and cut of his jaw, the several days’ old scruff, and those dark lashes that make me envious. His tan skin and the raised veins running down his forearms and over his hands.
Handsome used to be the word I used most often when I thought of him. It’s what fit so well from Catalina when I lingered in the memories of that weekend. But now it’s loyalty and kindness, caring, and thoughtful.
Nick didn’t have to fly back to Manhattan with me, but here he is without giving it a second thought. He just acted on instinct to support me. There’s nothing more I can ask for in a partner than someone who puts my needs before his. It’s not even something I knew to look for based on my experiences. But now that I’ve seen it’s possible to have something even remotely close to what my parents share, I believe I can have that too.
Our fingers fold together. I promise to do the same for him—be there when he needs me, support him, love him endlessly. “I want to marry you and be your wife.” Saying the words so frankly and to the point has them sounding different to my ears. It’s as if I’ve bared some part of myself. But with Nick, I’m not vulnerable. I feel strong, ready to fight for what I want.
I want him.
A small smile works its way onto his face, and just like the sun filtering through the clouds and sneaking in the small window, it brightens my day. His arm tightens around me, and he kisses my head. I love it when he does that. Against the top of my head, he whispers, “I want to be married to you and to be called Natalie’s husband.”
Laughter, even the lighter giggles that bubble up, feels good to release as if some pressure has been taken off. I shift in my seat, draping one of my legs over his. “When do we tell our families?”
“Guess it depends on if you want to have a big ceremony or to elope.”
It’s nice to take my mind off my worries for a minute. “Tatum’s been planning my wedding since I was seven. She’d kill me if we eloped. But having a huge New York wedding with a bunch of people I don’t know, or barely at best, because we have to invite everyone my parents have ever met so they’re not offended isn’t appealing.”
“My parents are the same way. I swear they know everyone in LA. Where does that leave us?”
Despite the nice thoughts about the future, the concerns for my dad are tightly wedged in my heart. “I don’t know. I’m still trying to get my head around my dad having a heart attack. I know I want him to meet my husband, the father of his grandkids, and that is far more important than a big showy to-do for me.” I undo my seat belt altogether and scoot onto his lap with my arms looped around his neck. I sigh. This is what I needed. To be held. Because I just don’t know what we’ll find upon touchdown.
* * *
I duck inside the limo to find Jackson sitting there. “A limousine? Really?”
“Figured if you were bringing your new boyfriend—” He goes silent when Nick ducks into the vehicle.
Figures he’d act like a weirdo in front of my boy—fiancé. Ooohhh. That has such a great ring to it. I wiggle my finger, ready to make it public, and nothing says engaged and taken like a ring wrapped around a certain left-hand finger. Maybe I’ll pop by Tiffany’s when my dad is better. Positive. I need to think positive when it comes to him. I won’t be able to handle any other outcome than a full recovery. My mind and thoughts are such a mess. I wave my hand between the two of them. “Nick. Jackson. Jackson. Nick Christiansen.”
“I, uhhhh . . . don’t understand.” Nonsense tumbles from Jackson’s mouth.
Staring at my brother, I’m so confused as to what’s wrong with him. I turn to Nick quickly, resting my hand on his leg as the car pulls away from passenger pick-up at JFK. “Ignore my brother. He can be so rude sometimes. My mom would be horrified.”
“It’s okay,” Nick replies, quieter than usual. I was nervous to meet his family but didn’t think twice about him feeling the same meeting mine. Is that what’s come over him? “It’s nice to meet you.” His expression is tight, clearly uncomfortable.
I kick my brother’s shoe. “Why’d you have to embarrass us like this? The limo was a dumb prank, Jackson.” I focus on Nick and how I can make him more comfortable in this awkward situation. “I’m sorry. We used to play pranks on each other growing up.” My lips tighten as I grit my teeth, glaring at my brother. “I thought we had outgrown that.” Back to Nick, he doesn’t seem bothered per se, but he’s hard to read right now, so I keep rambling to fill the silence, “I know a bright pink limo isn’t exactly cool, but?—”
“It’s fine. It really is.” He laughs, but I’ve never seen a tighter smile.
What a mess. I’m so mad at my brother for making this so uncomfortable. Jackson turns away, facing the driver ahead, but I can see the downturn of his expression in the reflection of the privacy glass. “Yeah, dumb. Sorry.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
When my brother angles back to face us, stabbing Nick with a glare, my gaze volleys between the two of them. “What am I missing?”
Nick says, “Nothing.”
Jackson grunts, “Nothing.”
“Well, you’re not Dad, so lower the temperature of overprotectiveness and stop trying to intimidate Nick.”
“He’s not intimidating,” Nick clarifies before I finish.
Jackson huffs. “What the fuck is going on? This is your new boyfriend? Was this a setup all along?”
“What?” I’m hit with the words, but none of them make sense. “What are you talking about?” He signals to Nick, who I catch vigorously shaking his head. “And what are you doing?” I rub my temple, wondering if I’m going insane.
Sliding away from Nick to the other side of the seat, I complete the triangle of us, but now I can see both of them. Like they’re speaking their own language, their eyes never deviate from each other. I throw my hands in the air. “Oh my God, somebody tell me what’s going on.”
That tantrum gets both of their attention. Jackson eyes Nick like he’s about to pull a fast one and then sits back. My brother says, “Clearly, she’s in the dark. Good job keeping that secret, but I’m certain she’s not going to be too happy to hear how she was used.”
“Jackson! Stop being rude. Nobody’s using me.”
He continues to eye Nick, and then asks, “Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to do the dirty deed?”
A hard stare softens when Nick looks at me. A hard swallow and fidgeting with his watch don’t bring me any comfort. With my heart in my throat, I say, “Nick?” He reaches over to take my hand from the seat between us, but I pull back, needing the truth instead of being touched. “Tell me what he’s talking about. Please .”
Giving my brother the side-eye again, Nick then turns to me, and says, “I know Jackson?—”
“I think the two of you have made that obvious. What happened that you’re sitting here in a car unexpectedly together, and I’m being told you’re using me?”
His words are tentative when he says, “I can explain?—”
“I’m listening.”
Jackson sits forward, and says, “It’s no big deal.”
“Then why are you acting this way?”
He huffs. “We’ve met in passing through work. That’s all.”
“Really? When?” My gaze slides over to Nick, who’s sitting quietly listening. When I look back at my brother, I say, “This is a small world.”
“Yeah, tiny,” my brother adds.
I move toward Nick again, just a little. “That’s pretty incredible that you guys have met before. You didn’t know he was my brother?”
Clearing his throat, Nick says, “No, not until I got into this car. I guess it’s not that out of the ordinary when you both work in the financial sector, but there aren’t many St. Jameses who have made a name like my family has.” I elbow him playfully. “Despite what you seem to think.”
“Yeah, I’m finding that out.”
Giving Jackson my attention again, I ask, “Why are you so bothered, and how is he using me?”
“Just surprised.” He shrugs. “Like you said, overprotective of my sister.”
My heart squeezes. We’ve always gotten along well, but he’s still my little brother although he acts like the eldest. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to worry about Nick. He’s amazing. You’ll see.”
“Incredible,” he mumbles under his breath.
Being the bigger man, Nick holds out his hand in a peace offering because he’s the best. “Maybe we can start over, man.”
Jackson takes hold, and they shake on it. “Yeah. Sure. No hard feelings.” Sure, now he’s all nonchalant about it. Annoying.
I will never understand guys. I have to talk everything out, but they just shake hands and move on like everything’s hunky-dory. Whatever. I don’t have the energy for this. “Have you gotten an update on Dad?”
“Yeah, Mom said he’s out of surgery and in recovery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I got the message right before you got in the car, and I was caught off guard by your boyfriend. Anyway, Dad’s doing well. Mom said she’ll be able to see him once he’s moved into a room.”
Resting my head back in relief, I close my eyes and release a deep breath. “Thank God.” I know he’s not in the clear, but hearing he’s doing well right now is what I need to hang on to.
With the stuff between Nick and Jackson still lingering in the air, I move to sit closer to Nick again. I whisper, “You sure you want to mar—” I stop, remembering we have an audience. “To meet my parents?”
I expect a quip or nod of reassurance. That’s not what I get, though. Nick hems and then nods without saying a word. Very unlike him. But maybe the thing with my brother and being stuck in the car together is uncomfortable. “Guess we’ll settle in since we caught prime time rush-hour traffic and will be here a while.”
Jackson gets distracted by his phone, but Nick just stares out the window. I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I made a mess of things, and this is just par for the course.” I lean against him and stare out the window as well.
As soon as the limo pulls up to the hospital, I climb over Nick to get out. In my rush to get inside, I notice him and Jackson speaking back at the car. “Are you guys coming?”
Jackson replies, “Tell Mom I’ll be right in.”
“Okay,” I say to myself, thinking they’re still trying to work things out. Just inside the doors, I search the waiting room with no sight of my mom anywhere.
“Natalie?” I hear my name ahead, but I barely recognize the woman coming toward me. Not that she’s not her usual beautiful self, but she’s not in head-to-toe designer, and she’s not wearing makeup. Instead, she’s in a fluffy fleece pullover and jogging pants with slip-on sneakers.
If emotions were an outfit, that’s how I’m feeling as well. “Mom?” Our arms fly around each other, and the tears I’d had a brief reprieve from return and fall down my cheeks. “How is he?”
“Resting.” She strokes my hair and then angles to see my face. “They gave us good news and told us everything went well.”
“That’s good to hear, but what happened?”
“He was supposed to be slowing down. That’s what this was all about. Enjoying the rewards of our hard work.” She sniffles. “We decided it was best to retire?—”
“What?” Stepping to the side, out of the walkway, we hold hands. Leaning against the wall, I stand there in disbelief at what I’m hearing. “When did you retire?”
“Officially, a few days ago.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
A gentle smile appears, and she tucks hair behind my ears. “It means we get to have a life again.”
“No, Mom, I understand what retirement means. You just walked away from the company?”
Shrugging like a teen who got busted sneaking out, she replies, “We sold it. I know this comes as a surprise, but we were going to tell you over Sunday dinner.” A million thoughts are running through my mind, but I can’t seem to put a voice to them. She rubs both of my arms and then brings me into her fold. “It’s a good thing, Natalie.”
“If it’s so good, why did Dad have a heart attack?” I snap.
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
She sighs heavily and says, “Let’s get some fresh air.” We walk outside and, with her arm looped with mine, stroll a few feet away from the door before I spot Nick and Jackson still talking.
Nick rubs his jaw, staring into the early evening sky while Jackson uses his hands to explain something. It’s a characteristic action of a St. James. “What could they still be talking about?”
She releases me, her hands in fists. “Why is he here? Hasn’t his family done enough damage?”
“Nick?” My head jerks from her reaction. She has to be confusing him with someone else. “That’s my boyfriend, Mom. What damage could he have done?”
Scowling, she points at him. “His family caused your father’s heart attack!”