Page 7 of Spicy Nick

I can’t tell from her expression if there’s anything she isn’t saying. But I hope pictures were the only thing Lucy forwardedto her—and not a lecture on how she needs to get her ass back here ASAP.

“Mommy!” Cole yells, as he grabs the phone away from me. “I miss you. When’re you coming home?”

Over Cole’s shoulder, I watch through the phone as Scout opens an unfamiliar door and enters an unfamiliar bedroom. Unfamiliar to me, that is. Given that she doesn’t knock, and unerringly finds the light switch, I’m guessing it’s not unfamiliar to her.

She closes the door—which cuts off a lot of the noise, thank goodness—then sinks down on the bed. “I’ll be home tomorrow, baby,” she says, smiling wearily. “Nick, I’ll text you my flight info, okay? Just so you have it?”

“Good. Do that,” I tell her. “I’m off this whole week. So if you let me know when you’re coming, I’ll pick you up.”

“Can you?” Her eyes widen. She sounds so relieved that I have to smile. “That’d be great!”

“Of course, I can. I’ll meet you at baggage claim.”

“Me, too! Me, too!” Cole says, handing me back my phone so he can jump up and down on the bed—so much for his going to sleep any time soon.

“Correction,” I say, smiling conspiratorially at my wife. “Cole and Iwill meet you at baggage claim.”

“Noted,” she says, smiling back at me.

“Where are you, anyway?” I ask, clocking the e-reader on the nightstand behind her. It could be coincidental, but it looks a lot like hers. “That’s not your condo, is it?”

“No, I’m at Larry’s.” Scout glances away from the phone, gazing at the room around her. “Tonight’s his big Christmas party, so...”

“The one with the movie?”

“Yeah. The same.”

She’s described her long-time agent’s holiday tradition (hosting a annual watch party for It’s a Wonderful Life that he modeled on some Rocky Horror Picture Show event he attended in the eighties) in extensive detail. Apparently, Larry hands out jingle bells, faux rose petals and water balloons (among other things) to all attendees in advance of the screening. I was initially confused about the balloons.

“There’s a water balloon scene in that movie?” I’d asked, perking up a little at the mention. “How’d I miss that?”

“There’s not,” Scout sighed. “But there are a truly exhausting number of scenes in which the various characters get wet—either they’re jumping into rivers, or falling through the ice, or getting pushed into pools…”

“I didn’t think you were a fan?” I say now.

“I’m not, but…well, he knew I was still in town, and that I didn’t have plans for the night. Plus, he’s driving me to the airport. So, skipping it seemed ungracious—especially since I know how much it means tohim.”

And I know how much Larry means toher—he’d been the closest thing she had to family for nearly twenty years, and pretty much the only out-of-town friend she invited to our wedding. “Okay, well…tell him I said hi. And, you know, maybe don’t stay up too late if you have an early flight tomorrow.”

She nods, grimacing slightly. “My flight’s not that early, unfortunately, but I’ll try to turn in early—if I can.”

I’m about to ask why she wouldn’t be able to, but then the sound of someone knocking on door comes through the phone and I lose her attention. She turns her head away as a voice calls, “Scout? You in there? We’re about to start!”

“Okay,” she calls back, plastering a smile on her face. I smile, too, amused by the level of fake enthusiasm she so effortlessly exudes. “Okay, thanks! I’ll be out in a minute!”

“You know,” I say, only partially teasing. “I think I’ve figured out why you keep getting invited to all these parties you don’t want to go to. That was a pretty convincing act. Anyone who doesn’t know you would likely believe you want to be there.”

Scout shrugs. “Well, Larrydoesknow me, so I’m not sure you’re right about that. Anyway, I gotta go.”

“Bye, Mommy. I love you!” Cole stops bouncing long enough to blow her a kiss.

“I love you, too,” my wife replies, as her eyes meet mine. “Both of you.”

“Have a safe flight,” I tell her. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love?—”

But she’s already signed off, leaving me to wonder about the unexpected sheen of tears that I’m sure I’d seen in her eyes.

She looked tired, and a little more worn down than usual. Could be she’s just as anxious to get home as I am to have her back. You’d think the two of us would be used to the occasional separation by now, wouldn’t you? But I’ll tell you what; I for one, am not.

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