Chapter 20
NICK
After three calls to my doctor, and some friendly persuasion, they finally released me from the hospital on Christmas Day. Cheryl made Portia wait until I got home to open her presents.
I shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot.
“Maybe you should sit in the chair instead of the couch,” Cheryl suggests.
“I’m fine, babe, stop fussing.” I look at Portia. “We made this poor kid wait long enough to open her presents.”
“It wouldn’t have been any fun if you weren’t here anyway.” Portia beams at me, her ebony eyes shining bright and happy. A happiness I intend on seeing over and over again.
Her glow is contagious, and I love watching her as she rips through mountains of wrapping paper. She appreciates everything, but her favorite gift is the deluxe art set which includes pastels, brushes, charcoal, colored pencils and watercolors.
“This is the best,” Portia squeals in true ten-year-old fashion. She hugs her mother, then turns to me.
I hold out my arms to her, and she gently nestles into my good side. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
“It sure is, baby girl; it sure is.”
“I want to work on something up in my room.” She bounces off the couch, then gathers up her art set and dashes out of the room.
The kid has a natural talent that even her fifth-grade teacher sees. Cheryl has her enrolled in art classes outside of school, and some of the stuff she brings home is amazing for her age.
I smile at Cheryl. “Our little girl is amazing.” I shift again on the couch, wince, and of course she notices.
“I know you’re in pain.”
“That’s ‘cause you won’t let me have a shot of Jack.”
“Right, mixing booze with pain meds—that sounds healthy.”
“Might not be healthy, but it works.” I grin at her. “Remember that time back in Brooklyn when that crooked cop used my face as a punching bag?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’d never seen anyone beat up so bad.” She looks closer at my face. “It’s amazing you don’t have any scars.”
“Can’t hurt this pretty face.” I cock my head. “Anyway, a couple of shots of Jack, your sweet body, and all my pain went away.”
“Yes, well, having major surgery is a little different. You shouldn’t even be out of the hospital, but I think the doctor just let you go to shut you up.”
“I go with what works, babe, and, like I said, there was no way I was spending our first Christmas together in a damn hospital bed.”
“Fine, but just please take it easy. Remember the doctor said you can only climb the stairs once a day, so when you get tired, I’ll help you upstairs to bed.”
“Somehow I don’t think you mean those words the way they sound.”
“Always the wise guy.”
“And you love it.” I pat the cushion next to me, then take in the twist of wrapping paper strewn across the rug, the beautifully lit tree and the smell of our Christmas dinner complete with empanadas.
Sadly, I never got my mother’s recipe. But Cheryl hounded Madeline, Boa’s woman, who runs her own catering business, until she found an authentic recipe for empanadas.
“Pretty close to perfect, right?” Cheryl snuggles into my good side, and I wrap my arm around her, holding her tight.
“Only one other thing that would make this absolutely perfect.”
She turns to face me. “What’s that?”
“If you would be my wife.”
She lowers her gaze and stills in my arms. Not the reaction I expected, but then my girl is always full of surprises.
“You asked me when we first moved in together. Then you never brought the subject up again.”
“‘Cause you said we should wait because we’d been apart for so long. At first, I was pissed, but then I got to thinking maybe you were right. Ten years is a long-ass time, and we are different people now than when we were back in Brooklyn.”
“Too different?”
“Nah, different in better ways. We grew up. I like to think we got a little smarter. You with your own successful business. Sometimes you scare the hell outta me with your confidence.”
“Thanks, but I don’t always feel that way.” She lowers her eyes.
“Well, you should. You were right all along about getting in the holiday spirit and buying all of Portia’s gifts. I wouldn’t have known what to buy the kid, but you nailed it.”
“We also had more to work through than most couples.”
“Not too many couples been through all the shit we’ve seen.
” I huff out a laugh. “I could make up a lot of lame-ass excuses, but the main reason I never mentioned marriage again is because I didn’t think I could take another rejection.
I wanna be in Portia’s life no matter what our relationship is, but I couldn’t put my feelings out there again. ”
“Rejection is a hard emotion.”
I thread my fingers through her hair. “When we were apart, I told myself I didn’t love you anymore, and that I didn’t need you anymore. Nothing but a big fuckin’ lie.”
“Leaving Frank’s office that night was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”
“I played that night over and over in my head. I can still see his office so clearly. All the things I could’ve done, should’ve said, but—but I didn’t.”
She squeezes my hand. “It was a crazy time. Me finding out Frank was my father, then him forcing me to leave you messed with me in so many different ways.”
“I remember the tears in your eyes too.” I caress her cheek. “You broke me that night.”
“When I left Frank’s office, I ran for blocks. I didn’t know where I was going. I finally stopped, totally out of breath. I thought about going back. Demanding Frank to let us be together, but deep down, I knew what he did was best for both of us.”
“That’s something we’ll never know.”
“I do know.” She gazes up at the ceiling. “We would’ve ended up hurting each other—maybe even hating each other.”
“Maybe not.”
“You had so much on the line opening the first Club Wicked in New York, you didn’t need to worry about me too. Then me being pregnant would’ve added more pressure, until one of us broke.”
“Doing it alone couldn’t have been easy either.” I look away from her. “I’ll never understand why you didn’t reach out to me.”
“To do what? I was living in California by then.”
“To help you out.”
“How? You were just getting the New York club off the ground; you couldn’t have come out to L.A. And I had no intentions of coming back to New York and living under my father’s rules, plus it still wasn’t safe, and I would never have put Portia in that kind of danger.”
“I could’ve done something.”
“I believe you would’ve wanted to, but be honest, up until two days ago, you were working nonstop and not taking any days off in an established club, so back then, when you were just starting out—no, it would have been an impossible situation.
I know I made the right choice. Like I said, we would’ve ended up hating each other. ”
“I searched for you for years. You really did a good job of staying under the radar.”
“I have my father to thank for that. Nobody can secure a fake identity like a mob boss.” She rolls her eyes, and we both laugh.
“We’ve finally come full circle.”
“You still haven’t answered my original question.” I suck in a breath that pulls at my stitches and blurt out, “Will you marry me?”
She turns toward me, cups my cheek, and gazes into my eyes. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you.” She leans in and brushes her lips with mine. “So, yes, I’d be honored to marry you.”
I deepen the kiss, then pull back. “You’ve made this the best Christmas ever.”
A strong wind picks up outside as the sky darkens. “Looks like it’s gonna rain.” Not a usual occurrence in Vegas, and when it happens, everyone likes to comment on it.
“I realize I asked you to marry me without a proper ring.”
“Do you really think that matters to me?”
“I had something for you, but with all the craziness, I left it at Wicked.” The diamond necklace is still in my desk drawer.
“What’s important is that we’re all together, and that’s never going to change.”
“Now that you’ve said yes and made an honest man out of me, maybe we can see about adding to this family of ours.”
“What if I told you we didn’t have to wait that long to add to our family?”
His brow furrows. “You’re . . .”
“Pregnant.”
“Shit, you’re kidding?”
“You’re happy, right?”
“I’m fuckin’ thrilled. How far along are you?”
“Four months.”
“Four months? Why didn’t you tell me before this?”
“‘Cause I didn’t know where we were headed, and I didn’t want to make you feel trapped. You’ve been so stressed with the club, and I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Babe, you gotta stop doin’ that.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to handle shit by yourself all the time. Especially now.”
“I can’t help it. For so long, I was the only one I had to depend on. Plus, I didn’t want me being pregnant to make you feel obligated to stay with me.”
“Never, babe. ‘Cause from now on, we’re gonna be handling all the life shit together.” I gather her into my arms. “This is the best news ever. Must’ve happened soon after we got back together.”
A loud crash of thunder makes both of us jump, then the room becomes weirdly dark.
“Must be a big storm coming.”
Then another crash followed by a flash of lightning. “Sounds like something fell on the patio.” I struggle to stand. “Help me up.”
Cheryl braces her arm under mine, and I push off the couch. I get my legs under me, and we head to the back of the house. By the time we reach the patio, the wind has picked up to almost hurricane proportions.
Cheryl opens the slider, and we step out onto the flagstone. The sky is dead black, the air is oddly damp, and a dark cloud hovers over the pool.
“What is that?” Cheryl backs toward the house.
“Nothing to worry about, babe.” A peaceful sensation fills me from head to toe. “It’s just the Grim Reaper.”
“The Grim Reaper?” she shouts.
“Yeah, he really got a bad rap over the years, ‘cause a lot of people got the wrong idea about him.”
Cheryl screws up her face. “That’s ‘cause a lot of people think he brings death.”
“See, and that’s nothing but bullshit. He’s really an unbiased guide into the unavoidable destiny that awaits us. Even the sickle symbolizes a tool used at harvest time, signifying the passage of time—like the cycle of life and death.”
Cheryl’s eyes widen like she thinks I’ve lost it.
“Sounds crazy, right? But it’s true.”
“And where did you read about all this?”
“I didn’t read about it. He told me when he visited me the other night. He was the fucker who showed me my future, and I gotta tell you, it wasn’t pretty. You were tied to that asshole Pierce, and I was hanging out in a dive bar, shoving blow up my nose with hookers.”
“That must’ve been some dream you had.”
“It wasn’t a dream, babe, it was . . . Holy shit!” I look over Cheryl’s shoulder, and the jewelry box is sitting on the table. I move around her, stiffly bend, wince, and pick up the box off the table.
“You left it out here?” Cheryl asks.
“Nah, it was in my office at Wicked.”
“Then how did it get— You trying to tell me some Grim Reaper put it there?”
I shrug. “You said it, not me.”
She furrows her brow and examines the box. “Harry Winston?”
“Only the best for you, babe.” I nod at the box. “Open it.”
She slowly opens it and gasps. “Nick, it’s beautiful.”
“You deserve this and much more.”
She throws her arms around me, and I stiffen. “Go easy, babe, remember that major surgery thing.” I huff out a laugh and a groan.
“I’m sorry, I’m just so happy.”
Another gale of wind sweeps through the backyard. “We better go inside. It looks like it’s really gonna start coming down.”
Portia comes running down the steps. “Dad, Dad.” She grabs my hand. “I was going to draw you a picture of the mountains, but then I saw this really spooky dark cloud hanging over the pool, and I sketched it using my new charcoals.”
She thrusts the paper into my hand, and there’s a sketch of the pool area and a vague outline of the dark cloud in the shape of—the Grim Reaper.”
“Isn’t that cool? The big, black cloud made a shape almost like a person!”
“Coolest thing I’ve ever seen, sweetie.” I show it to Cheryl, and her eyes widen. “That’s amazing.”
“I heard this loud crash like thunder, and then it was just out there over the pool.”
“This is the best present.”
“You’re just saying that, Dad.”
“No, really.” I look down at the dramatic shades of gray. “This picture reminds me of what’s really important.”
Cheryl holds out the necklace to me. “Will you help me put it on?”
She holds up her hair, and I attach the clasp, then she spins around. “Promise me you’ll never take it off.”
“Promise.”
“And when I’m feeling better we’re all going to Disneyland.”
Portia squeals her response, and Cheryl cups my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”
I gaze down at my soon-to-be wife, already carrying our baby, and our beautiful daughter, and I know, no matter what life throws at me, or where we live, they will always be my home.
THE END