Chapter 7
Some gold stuff
Nick
When I had suggested spending the weekend at our house in Huntington, I hadn’t expected Candy to take it as an opportunity to make plans with friends.
I’d foolishly thought maybe we could get away from all the expectations and crap that came with it and just spend time together, like married couples did.
Maybe I could use this time she’d forced on me to see if there was even a sliver of hope for us, or if her rigidity was going to stand in our way.
Maybe I was dumber than a box of rocks.
For a moment, when we had almost kissed, I had forgotten that we were getting divorced. But Candy had shattered that moment beyond repair. What did I expect, though? Her to offer me her body in the parking lot of The Black Sheep?
Fucking moron.
The Gold Coast of Long Island, in this little space between the city and the Hamptons, had always been special for us.
It had been our own slice of heaven. For so long, Candy had dreamed of having a house outside of the city, but we had waited for the right one.
When it had finally come on the market, we’d snatched it up without a second thought.
In the early days, we had spent stolen weekends here, going on quiet dates, and enjoying the slower pace, but over the years, this became nothing more than another place for Candy to fill with shit.
Her passion for creating a home away from home ceased, and she focused more on socializing and shopping.
We’d had our friends in the city, and then our friends on Long Island. Both were the same breed of people.
Affluent.
Boring.
Just like William and Dotty.
Candy had apparently called William and Dotty when she had known we were spending the weekend here and had learned that they had a reservation for brunch at this grand castle that evoked a European ambiance right here in Huntington.
A couple of calls later, and Dotty had done the unimaginable. Cure a disease? No. Figure out how to travel faster than the speed of light? No. She had managed to reserve a table for four instead of two. Lucky us.
With my hands in my pockets as we walked inside the dining room, I turned to Candy and lowered my head so that my voice was low in her ear.
“I still don’t understand. Your first thought was to make plans with William and Dotty?
” It was moments like this I wished I had a cigarette to tuck in my mouth and light.
Jesus, I would’ve rather been doing anything besides this. Like getting to the tree farm. Yet here I was, likely about to partake in an insufferable conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Snooze Fest.
Her eyes widened as she turned to me, appearing aghast. “This is not the time for this. Someone could overhear you.”
I doubted it so very much, considering most of these people were too concerned with themselves and what they were doing. See, the thing about Candy was that she had an awful habit of thinking everyone was like her. They weren’t, and at least seven out of ten people didn’t care what others thought.
“I told you we were due to see them. I couldn’t be rude and not call them.” Heaven forbid. That would have been the greatest travesty of the century. “Can’t you just enjoy a nice meal at this beautiful restaurant? You know how hard it is to get reservations here, and at Christmastime no less.”
Why, of course. How could I forget it was Christmastime?
If the towering tree as soon as we had walked inside wasn’t enough of a reminder, then the rest of the opulent holiday decor that dripped from the place certainly was.
There was that red satin ribbon Candy loved so much tied into bows, elaborate wreaths, poinsettia plants, cranberries, and some gold stuff.
It was Christmas elegance to the nines, and it didn’t even look out of place one bit with the exposed brick and marble.
Now that she’d mentioned it, I felt like the luckiest man on earth. Screw any other man who thought they had it better than me because I had the good fortune of knowing Dotty. Thanks to Dotty we were able to get in here…and at Christmastime no less.
“Depends on what you consider a nice meal,” I finally responded, my lips twitching as I attempted not to grin.
“I suppose so,” she answered, her voice monotone and unfazed, her brows furrowing. “I know how much you like your steak.”
Steak… Your pussy…
As we closed the gap to the table, I only nodded, though. Frankly, she was lucky that was all she was getting from me. So, we’d have brunch. We’d chat with William and Dotty about whatever the hell they found amusing lately. Then we’d be on our way.
Practically as soon as we sat down, our server approached us wearing a Santa hat, the white ball hanging so low it was hitting his ear. William and Dotty already had their cocktails but were waiting for us to order.
We’d only been through the expected greetings and niceties portion, and I was already considering plucking my eyes out. Ordering meant that I didn’t have to make more small talk with them, though, so that was a hole in one. I stuck with crab cakes and a Croque Madame.
Candy was as predictable as ever, ordering a Cobb salad with chicken and a Sicilian vegetable sandwich.
Lord knew what William and Dotty had ordered, and really, who cared?
I certainly didn’t. Honestly, I cared more about the weather forecast the meteorologists were bound to get wrong, like they usually did, and that was saying a lot.
What I did know was that the sooner we got this brunch over with, the sooner we could get to the reason for this weekend—going to the tree farm.
I hadn’t gone to a tree farm and picked out my own tree since I had been a boy and had done so with my father.
Candy always insisted on having an artificial tree because it was less messy, and to be honest, it didn’t seem like a terrible idea to do once or even twice, but enough was enough.
There was only so much fake crap a man could take.
This year, things were changing. Life was messy, so it seemed fitting our tree was too.
The sommelier came to our table next to go over wine pairings, but again, it wasn’t enough to hold my interest. As he blabbered on, my gaze fell on Candy. She didn’t notice me staring at her, and if she did, then she didn’t move an inch, listening intently to the sommelier.
Candy seemed oddly stiff, her back arched and her shoulders straightened. It was as though she wasn’t comfortable, which made no sense because I would’ve thought she was in her element.
Her eyes weren’t burning with anything. They looked void of emotion. Her lips were narrow lines. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, my jaw hardening as I saw what no one else would. The last thing I wanted was for Candy to be anything but happy. It made me want to punch a fucking wall.
I lowered my gaze to where her hands were neatly situated in her lap, her thumb tapping the top of her other hand. Come on, Candy. Look at me. Reaching a hand across to her lap, I gave one of her hands a good squeeze. A surge of electricity shot through me, and I never wanted to stop feeling that.
Our eyes met briefly before she looked down at my hand covering hers.
She licked her lips, and I could’ve sworn I saw the pulse in her neck jump.
Then, when it seemed like a smile was blossoming, she abandoned it, tugging her hand away and swiping a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.
The worst part about it was that the hair had been intentionally placed there by her to frame her face, only accentuating her beautiful bone structure.
Ignoring me completely, she turned to her friends since the sommelier was gone.
Honestly, he could have gone to Timbuktu and never come back for all I gave a damn.
“What have you both been up to?” she questioned, bringing her hands on top of the table.
So, she didn’t want me to touch her again…
What was she so afraid of? This felt reminiscent of what had happened between us last night.
Candy just kept pulling away. “Any special plans for the holidays?”
I carefully flicked my eyes over her, unapologetically trying to figure out if she’d tell her dear friends that she had just been at a pub with swinging Santas. Seemed unlikely. As unlikely as she would be to enlighten them to our big plans this Christmas—pretend everything was normal.
Dotty smacked her lips, a smile as wide as the River crossing her face. Forget lights on a Christmas tree, Dotty’s phony smile could light the thing up. “William is taking me to Bermuda. Can you believe it? I’m so looking forward to it.”
Why wouldn’t we be able to believe that? They were young, wealthy, without children, and flaunted their extravagant lifestyle every chance they got. William and Dotty were far from complex. They were disgustingly easy to predict.
With a bewitching smile and eyes that glittered like the jewels she wore on her ears, Candy gasped. “That sounds marvelous.” If marvelous was a synonym for treacherous, then sure, it sounded marvelous. “You’ll have to tell us how it is. Maybe Nick and I will have to visit next winter.”
Or maybe we’d be living separate lives.
It seemed my wanting a divorce had slipped her mind for the purpose of this conversation.
“Indeed,” I said, decidedly making my big contribution to this little get-together.
Not that it mattered any. William seemed to barely speak himself.
Dotty was the mouthpiece of their family, just like Candy was of ours.
And on that note… “If you’ll excuse me.” I pushed my chair back from the table and exited to the restrooms when, in reality, I had no intention of going there. I just needed fresh air.
It didn’t matter that I wasn’t wearing my coat. The grounds were impressive at the castle, and I wanted to see them. Make that needed to, if I had to sit through that meal with a smile as fake as Dotty’s lips plastered on my face for another second.
Grasping my hands together, I rubbed them, feeling a chill in the air. Although nothing was icier than Candy’s tone of voice or expression these days. They both put the winter weather in New York to shame.
As I walked, I pulled on the back of my neck.
Some things couldn’t be fixed, whether fractured or broken, sometimes they were just too far gone.
All this Christmas nonsense was just delaying the inevitable, and my marriage was the perfect example.
It was a bone-chilling thought, one I didn’t care much for having.
I glanced down at my left hand where the gold wedding band Candy had given me marked my finger. I never took it off. Even when it was hot as hell. I always figured it’d have to be cut off my finger before I ever slipped it off voluntarily.
Shit changed, though, and the woman who had slipped this band on my finger was not the same woman I’d reached out and tried to touch today.
No amount of pretending was going to change that.
Pulling the ring off, my eyes caught the inscription Daddy Nick, reminding me of the inside of Candy’s platinum ring and how it read Candy cane.
They were both private nicknames we had for each other… an eternity ago.
I would burn the entire world down for her without a single regret, which was exactly why I needed to let her go. Because, while my obsession for her burned brighter than a thousand suns, my love for her burned even brighter.