Page 79 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

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 duckinside 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.”

---