Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The first thing Nico did after our embrace was cover me with his suit shirt. The second thing he did was pick me up and carry me off the stage.
The crowd continued to applaud, hoot, and holler like moonshine drunk corn farmers.
He ignored the thunder of their approval and, instead, kissed me as he carried me.
I didn’t notice much; all I wanted to see was him.
I was still crying a bit, but the tears were good tears caused by laughter and relief.
Less than a minute later, we were in his dressing room, and he kicked the door shut with his foot. He turned, set me down, and pressed me against the door. His hands lifted to my face and the pads of his thumbs wiped away the watery tracks.
“Where did you come from? How did you get up on the stage?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, he kissed me. Then he yanked me against him, and his large hands moved into the suit shirt and gripped my bare waist. Abruptly, he retreated, his eyes flashing like fireworks. “Why? Why did you do that?”
Then, once more leaving me no time to respond, he kissed me again.
His tongue swept into my mouth, urgent and demanding.
Nico greedily pressed his hard lines against my soft curves, pushed me against the door.
His roughness was inexorably overpowering; my limbs and brain became useless against the ravenous assault.
Thankfully, he held me in place with his body, his knee between my legs; otherwise I might have dissolved into a puddle of wanton woman on the floor.
“Why didn’t you just…” kiss “…have them…” kiss “…tell me…” kiss “…that you were here?” kiss.
With Nico interrogating me and kissing me in intervals, I had difficulty comprehending or following his questions. His hands were everywhere, as though checking to confirm I was real. My hands were also everywhere because, dammit, he felt good.
“The guy…” kiss “…with the headphones…” kiss “…said that he had no way…” kiss “…to let you know…” kiss “…that we were here.”
Nico lifted his head, his eyes hazy even as they searched mine. His hand was under the shirt, absentmindedly caressing me through the lace of my bra. I moaned.
“What guy with headphones?”
My response was breathless. “We saw him outside the studio. Long brown hair, in his forties maybe—”
“Was he wearing a flannel shirt?”
“Yeah. That’s him.” I arched against him, pressed myself into his palm.
“That son of a bitch.” Nico paired his language choice with an acrid smile.
“What?”
“That’s my producer, Larry. I-” He hesitated, stole another kiss.
“First of all, we moved up the taping schedule today because I was going to fly back to Chicago tonight.” Nico paused, his eyes examining my face.
“I had to see you. You need to know, you must know, as long as you’ll have me I’m yours.
God, Elizabeth-” he grimaced as though in pain and his hands tightened on my body, “-I’ve been going crazy, every day, you’re all I think about.
When I close my eyes you’re all I see. I need you.
” he brushed a soft, lingering kiss against my mouth, “I love you.”
“Oh.” My face crumpled a little and my heart expanded until my chest felt full. “Nico….”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“And I’m sorry I was so awful to you. I’m sorry for everything.”
His eyes were twinkling and dreamy. I lost myself for a moment in their depths before I realized that he was speaking again.
“Wait, what?”
His eyes narrowed teasingly. “I said, Larry could’ve easily told me you were here. I wear an earpiece while onstage. He must’ve…he must’ve seen an opportunity for a ratings stunt.”
“He also said you wouldn’t be offstage for another ninety minutes but it’s only been thirty or so.”
“I’m going to kill him. What a bastard.”
“Let’s plot his death later. I have to leave in seven minutes if I’m going to make it back to Chicago in time.”
Nico blinked at me. My words had an immediate sobering effect. “You have to go back? Tonight?”
I nodded. “I have to get back for the infusion, and I have a late-night shift.”
“No….” He shook his head. “No, no, no—why are you going to work? Shouldn’t you be taking time off?”
I stroked his back, loved that I could touch him. I never wanted to take that for granted. “It’s ok. I’m really fine.”
“You’re not fine.” His brow pulled into a deep V. “Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
“I have a plan.”
His frown intensified. “Well, let’s hear it.”
“I’m going to….” I cleared my throat, firmed my voice. “I’m going to see someone, a psychiatrist, a friend of Sandra’s. And I’m going to cut back on double shifts.”
“For how long?”
“The next two weeks.”
Nico considered me as he mulled over this information. “I’m glad you’re going to see someone. That’s really good. But you just went through something extremely stressful. Don’t you think you need some time off?” He didn’t look convinced.
“Well,” I continued, as I brought the back of my hand to his stomach and brushed my knuckles against his bare skin. “I’m going to ask for a few days off.”
Finally, his eyes brightened. “Ok. Good. That’s good.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I cupped his cheeks and brought his face to mine to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I have three minutes left.”
“I can’t leave till after the next taping.” His eyes moved between mine. After a moment, his forehead fell to my shoulder. “Damn. This sucks.”
“Yes…I agree.”
“I thought . . .” His voice was muffled by my neck.
He placed a wet kiss just under my ear, making me shiver.
“I wanted to explain, about Friday. I thought I’d scared you, Friday morning, when I told you what I wanted—when I told you I wanted to marry you.
I pushed you into this, I know that, but I shouldn’t have left angry.
I should have waited until we had time to talk, come to an agreement. ”.”
“You overreacted.”
He nodded. “I did.”
“It’s okay.” I waited until he met my gaze before continuing, “In case you haven’t noticed, I am an expert on overreacting. You’re forgiven as long as you forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For the multitude of mistakes I’ve made as well as the ones I haven’t made yet. There will be many. It’s my talent, making mistakes. My expertise is overreacting and my talent is making mistakes.”
“Well, then, we have that in common.” His mouth tilted in a sheepish smirk.
I glanced at the ceiling; our nookie window was closed. But, that was ok. There were nights and nights and days and nights of nookie ahead of us. I threaded my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck.
“Do you—” I cleared my throat. “Do you still want to marry me?”
“Oh God, yes.” He kissed me again, unhurried, measured, for a full minute. Upon separating, we both sighed.
“You need to know, about that morning when you asked me to marry you, I wasn’t scared so much as surprised. I….” I held him tighter and spoke to his lips. “I haven’t thought about getting married and spending my life with someone…not since I was fifteen.”
He nuzzled my neck. “Like having kids?”
“Like having kids.”
Slowly he pulled away—but not completely. Nico wrapped a possessive arm around my waist and led me to the couch. He sat first, then pulled me to his lap; my knees were on either side of him, my arms draped over his shoulders. A twinkly, content gaze caressed my face.
He looked happy, and I realized that I was also happy. I smiled. It was a stupid, blissful smile. I was in goofy-love.
“So…what now?” I nipped his juicy bottom lip.
“Now?” Nico tugged me closer until our chests were flush. He brushed his lips against mine and said, “Now we have a lot to discuss.”
“Discuss?”
“Yes. Lots of discussions.”
“And touching? Lots of touching too?”
“Yes. Lots of that. Discussions and touching.”
“And stroking?”
He grinned, his eyes now smoldering lethally. “Rest assured, there will be touching of all kinds…a virtual cornucopia of touching…a touching feast.”
“Good. Then what?”
“Then we get married, then a lot more touching and maybe fewer discussions for a while.”
“I have one and a half minutes left before I have to leave. Do you want to start now?”
“Yes. First, you need to learn how to pronounce my last name—”
“Ok. That seems fair.”
“—since it’ll be your last name soon, too.”
“What? No. I’m not changing my last name. Not going to happen.”
“Ne parleremo più tardi.”1
A-a-a-a-and my honorary Italian lady parts stand at attention.
“Ah! Nico!” I sucked in a sharp breath, “You’re not allowed!”
“Ok, ok. No more Italian.” He petted me, his hands caressing me under the suit shirt. His movements were deliberate, a fondling stroke from my back to my bottom; then he squeezed. “For now.”
I glowered at him in an attempt to restrain all my lady minions. “So what’s the next item on the list?”
“We need to discuss our arrangement.”
“Uh…we have an arrangement?”
“Yes. We have an arrangement. Our friends without benefits arrangement.”
“O-k-a-y. I thought that we were—I thought—I mean we’ve—”
“We haven’t officially ended the arrangement.”
“But we are getting married.”
“Yes. We are. Therefore, I think we should officially end our friends without benefits arrangement and replace it with a new friends with benefits arrangement.”
“A friends with benefits arrangement?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…” I eyeballed him. “What kind of benefits?”
“All benefits. A full benefits arrangement from A to Z, in sickness and in health, nothing held back.” As though to emphasize his point, he kissed my chest.
“So…you’ll let me borrow your T-shirts?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And you’ll make me more mix-tapes about us?”
He lifted a single brow, putting me on eye-twinkle-twinkle-little-star alert. “You finally caught on to that, did you? You wicked creature….”
I couldn’t suppress my grin but continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “And I’ll knit you scarves.”
“Ok. I like scarves. Can you make me one with Space Invaders?”
“Pshaw! Yeah! I’m a really good knitter.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll learn how to crochet?”
He nodded once. “I’m already learning.”
“And how to knit?”
“Don’t push it.”
“Apple fritters?”
He wagged his eyebrows, his eyes dancing beneath. “Definitely.”
“And we’ll take trips together, and visit your family—”
“We’ll visit your family.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth then paused. Before I could answer, I had to gather a deep breath. “Yeah….”
“We’ll visit your dad and go to his wedding.”
I nodded. I had to clear my throat before answering. “Yes. We’ll go to his wedding and we’ll be happy for him, for them.” And I meant it.
“And we’ll be happy.”
I tightened my arms around his neck. “Always.”
“Well…” he said, and then he lifted his chin, his mouth curved into a devastating, charismatic, sex-on-an-Italian-stick smile. “Almost always.”
35Translation: We’ll talk later.
1 Translation: We’ll talk later.