Page 106 of One More Time
‘No?’
She brushed her windswept bangs from her eyelashes and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Remember how you told me that I should spend some of your money—’
‘Ourmoney,’ he corrected.
‘Right, our money.’
He noticed then that Lucy seemed a little nervous.
‘Did you?’ he asked. ‘You don’t have to feel bad about it, Lou.’
‘I boughtyousomething,’ she said.
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a Philadelphia Eagles keychain. She shook it between them, the three keys there jangling like bells.
He was utterly fucking speechless, could feel his eyes bugging out of his head.
Nicky snatched the keys from her hand. ‘Are you serious?’ he screamed, about to jump out of his skin with excitement.
‘Look, I paid too much,’ she said as he whipped the car door open. Somewhere behind him she shouted, ‘Kim acted as her dad’s broker and I’m not entirely sure if that helped us or made it ten times worse. But it’s ours, either way.’
Nicky raced to the back door of the house on Stockley Street, fumbled with the keys until he found one that fit into the lock.
‘Oh, my God, it’s the same! It’s almost exactly the same!’ he yelped.
He ran through the living room and opened the door tothe front porch. The cushions were different but … ‘Is that the same fucking porch furniture?’ he yelled out to Lucy.
She stepped out from the house. ‘Probably.’
‘And we get to live here together, alone all summer?’ he exclaimed.
‘I mean, all the kids are coming in July. But I rented them a house down the block. We can live here as long as we want.’
‘We’ll get a boom box off eBay, okay? Put it right there in the corner.’ He felt like he was bouncing on marshmallows, like his damn chest was full of bubbles. It was ridiculous.
Lucy laughed. ‘I mean, I thought we should probably get a dumpster and have everything hauled away.’
‘No. Nope,’ Nicky griped. ‘Veto.’
He raced to Lucy and held her tight. Pressed a kiss to her temple and tried not to cry.
‘Best present ever, Lou,’ he said when her eyes locked on his.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
He said, ‘Some superfan is making a museum out of my old apartment in Seattle. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Closing off the room I slept in behind velvet ropes and using old pictures to recreate it. My lumpy-ass mattress on the floor and the dresser I used to prop my guitar on in the corner. Making it a shrine.’
‘Because that’s where you wrote “The Breathing Room,”’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘Because they think itisthe Breathing Room, Lou.’
Nicky laced his fingers in Lucy’s and pulled her through the living room, past the bathroom (that he might be willing to have gutted) and down the hall.
