Page 45 of Nico
"You're going to her."
"Yes." He was already heading towards the doorway. "She should not be alone tonight. And neither should I."
He stepped out into the cool night, his heart pounding with anticipation. The laughter and music faded behind him as he hurried down the steps, eager to close the distance between himself and his mother's guests. The thought of her waiting, already drifting to sleep, propelled him forward. He knew the risks. Questions would arise, suspicions would linger. But none of it mattered compared to being with her. For one night, he would set aside duty and tradition, following the pull of his own heart. Christmas, after all, was meant to be spent with those you loved.
*****
She could not settle. Not even the wine was doing the trick. She had soaked for half an hour in the tub, dumping in her usual beads and fragrant gels, making the water as hot as she could stand it. She felt the warmth through every pore and the wine had a lulling effect that had her closing her heavy eyes.
But her mind was alert and chaotic. It might have been the extra work she had put in at the gallery tonight. The place would be closed for three days, which Andre had taken the opportunity and was jetting off to Cabo with a new beau. Shaking her head, she wondered when he was going to learn.
But it wasn't that. She was accustomed to working hard and the long hours had been highly fulfilling. It definitely had to do with the conversation she had with her mother. Sylvia Greene knew how to lay on the guilt and had done so without a qualm.
She had called while Sadie was doing inventory on the computer.
"I see I have to be the one to do the calling. It feels to me that I have to be begging for my only child's attention. What have I done to make you resent me this much?"
The conversation had left her drained, the feeling of melancholy staying with her throughout the day. Her mother had gone on and on about her taking a trip to Tuscany with her.
"That dreadful man I'm now divorcing did the right thing by leaving me a small villa, complete with a vineyard. An actual vineyard which is doing quite well. I would like my only child to take the trip with me."
Picking up her wine, she took a sip and wished she could block everything out. When she had refused, the tirade had started and continued for thirty minutes. They had ended the conversation at a standoff. Sadie had told her a firm no, and her mother had ended with a tearful remark that her only child did not love her.
So now she was exhausted, emotionally, and physically. All she wanted to do was to slide between the sheets and sleep for two days straight. And she missed him.
Setting her wine on the lip of the tub, she grabbed the sponge and started on her left thigh. Ever since he had given her that look and that kiss, oh God! The man could kiss. He had melted the bones off her body and left her as weak and pliable as a noodle. Ever since that afternoon, she had been in a feverish daze of desire that simply would not go away.
Even now thinking of him, his mouth on hers, his tongue diving into her mouth was making her nipples rigid.
"Okay girl, down," she muttered. "He has his responsibility to that beautiful child. You're an adult and can and will endure the loneliness."
Saying the words did not make it any easier.
And her skin was wrinkling from being in the water too long and it was getting lukewarm. Pulling the plug, she finished the wine and rose.
A cup of tea and then off to bed. Hopefully, she would be tired enough to fall asleep right away.
She wrapped herself in her favorite plush robe, its softness a small comfort against the chill that lingered as she stepped out of the bathroom. The house was quiet, save for the distant hum of city traffic drifting in through the window. For a moment, Sadie stood in the doorway, letting the silence settle over her likea blanket. With a sigh, she padded into the kitchen, her bare feet whispering across the cool tiles.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, she glanced at her phone on the counter, the screen dark and unyielding. No new messages. She knew she shouldn't expect one. He had told her tonight was for his daughter, and she respected that. Still, hope flickered stubbornly in her chest. She busied herself with the ritual of making tea: honey, a splash of milk, the familiar weight of the ceramic mug in her hands.
Cradling the mug, she made her way to the bedroom, pausing to dim the lights. The bed looked impossibly inviting. She set her tea on the nightstand and slid under the covers, letting the warmth seep into her bones. Tomorrow, she told herself, things would feel lighter. Tomorrow, she would call her mother back and try again. Maybe. For tonight, she focused on the simple comfort of her bed, the faint taste of honey on her lips, and the memory of a kiss that still lingered, sweet and electric, beneath her skin.
After taking a few sips, she put aside the cup and was about to try and settle in for the night when her phone pinged. Hoping earnestly that it was not her mother, she grabbed the phone and investigated. Her heart went still for a second before picking up speed as she read the text.
"Open the door. I'm outside."
She did not hesitate, but using the app on her phone, disengaged the alarm and opened the front door.
As soon as she saw him enter the foyer, she engaged the alarm and remembered to drag the bonnet off her head. Combing her fingers through the silky strands, she looked down with regret at the old T-shirt she had donned after her shower. Which could not be helped as he was already mounting the stairs.
She was propped up on the pillows when he came and stood inside the doorway. And was a sight for sore eyes. He had shed the tie and opened the top two buttons of his snowy white shirt. Oh, the man looked so damn good in a tux! His hair was disheveled as usual and there was a stubble. He looked so sexy, she felt her bones melting.
"Hi."
"How was the party?"
"Boring as hell. Did I wake you?"
