Page 24 of Wine & Whiskey
“Did your father kill your mother? Is that why he isn’t here?”
Nick sighs. “Yes.” After blinking a few times, he stares at his plate. “I can’t remember a time when she didn’t have bruises or some kind of injury. He made her life fucking hell, and I was too young to do anything about it. Then, one day she was gone. He said she left us, but I know that’s not true.”
A throbbing ache fills her chest listening to his words and remembering his concern about her bruises when they first met. No wonder he was so upset.
“He was shot. He’s in a coma, and machines are keeping him alive. But, to me, he’s already dead. Whatever happens to him happens to him. I don’t give a damn.”
They sit quietly for a minute. He swirls the wine in his glass before taking a long drink. Lost at how to console him from bitterness wrapped in grief, she grips his fingers tighter. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, but I know how hard it is to lose your mother. I know how much you must miss her.”
“I’m sorry too. It’s a shame that one of the things we have in common is we both lost our mothers.” He entwines her other hand in his. “Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
Her face flushes with embarrassment, and she sits back, pulling away from his touch. “I shouldn’t have asked you those questions. It isn’t my business. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
He climbs out of his chair and kneels next to her. “Don’t apologize. It is your business, because I want you to be part of my life. You can ask me anything.” He caresses her cheek, lines of worry creasing his forehead. “Please don’t give up on me because of my job and my family.”
She meets his gaze, her stomach dropping at his earnest request. “I don’t want to, but I’m scared.”
His eyes never leave hers as he leans closer, their faces only a whisper apart. “I meant what I said yesterday. I swear to God I’ll never hurt you.”
Without any proof or reason to accept it, she believes him. Illogical. Naïve. Foolish. But somehow, she knows it’s true.
After standing up, he walks over to push a button on the wall panel by the door. Soft music fills the cool evening air as he comes back and holds out his hand. “Dance with me.”
The large full moon reflects across the black water, wiggling on the surface as the waves break and roll toward the sand. A few stars faintly glisten in the usually light-polluted sky. She leans her head on his chest and closes her eyes, pushing everything out of her mind and enjoying the peace of being in his arms.
He tips his head down and whispers in her ear, “Thank you for staying.”
When she looks up, he kisses her on the forehead. “I’m glad I did.”
As the temperature starts to drop, they clear the table and carry everything inside. He sits the tray of dirty dishes on the kitchen table, the only clean spot in the room, and smiles at her. “How about I wash and you dry?”
She hops up on the counter next to the sink and picks up the dish towel. As they work, he asks her about Carrie.
“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten. She’s always been artistic and creative, and now she’s my stylist.”
She laughs at his frown of confusion. Her lifestyle is foreign to him too. “She does my hair and makeup for my concerts, photo shoots, and stuff like that. She helps me pick out my clothes. She knows about the good designers and who I should wear. Somehow, that kind of stuff is important in our world.”
He raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Good to know.”
“Her parents are disappointed she didn’t ‘do more’ with her life, but I don’t think they appreciate how talented she is. I’m very lucky to have her. According to her mom, the only saving grace is she’s engaged to Nathan. He’s an emergency room physician. I guess in her mind, a doctor for a son-in-law is a real coup.”
“How did you end up living together?”
“I bought a house for my mom, but I was lonely living there by myself after she died. So, Carrie moved in with me until she gets married. She and Nathan have sworn off sex until their wedding night to make it more special, but it hasn’t worked even with them living apart. They keep giving in.”
He laughs deep from his belly at her comment. “I don’t know these people, but I can tell I like them.”
She smiles, relieved he’s returned to his old self after the tension during dinner. “I know they’ll like you too.”
After putting the last pan in the drying rack, he walks over to her, creating ripples of anticipation in her chest. “So, does that mean you’re going to let me in your life a little?”
She nods and slowly parts her knees so he can move closer. Sliding his hands around her lower back, he pulls her to him, eliminating all the space between them. Her pulse races as she straddles him, her dress bunched around her hips. Swirling sensations overwhelm her—the coolness of the countertop penetrating through her thin, cotton panties, the rough denim of his jeans on her thighs, his strong hands radiating warmth on her back.
Lifting her hand, she traces the outline of his face with her fingertip. His gaze burns into hers as she glides from his temple, down his strong jaw, and across his dimpled chin, resting on his lips. Whispering her name against her finger, he stiffens when she rubs back and forth. He leans forward and kisses her hungrily, moaning as she parts her lips, welcoming his tongue, fueling the fire he flames in her. Her body trembles with the need for his hands to touch her bare skin, to know she wants everything he craves from her.
He fists her hair, his lips gliding to her ear. “Stay with me tonight.”
A shiver shudders through her body at his whisper. She wants to say yes so badly. “I can’t.”
