Page 42 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“What hype is that exactly?” I ask innocently.
“Well, the nurses, they talk. I got a preview in your office, but you have some fans in the nursing grape vine as I am sure you know,” which makes me blush. Guilty. “I believe Annie said the feedback is, ‘five stars, no notes.’” She stares me down like a challenge. This confident and sexy side of her continuing to surprise me. She keeps making it clear what she wants, and more likely what she needs.
“Then I think we should keep walking, see if I can add another five star review to the grape vine. Can social workers contribute?”
“Occasionally the social workers contribute.” I can’t get enough of the way she keeps looking at me, flirty and infallible. I’m not used to the lack of control in the situation, and I decide to take a little back.
We turn to start walking toward her apartment, and rather than grab her hand, I dip my body and pick her up, holding her like we heading toward some threshold. “Nick!” she squeals my name in a complaint that’s contradictory to the way she is instinctively curling into my chest.
“You said you wanted to go to your place, let’s go.” This time I’m whispering that into her ear, and I feel her tension release in my arms.
Walking with her pressed against me feels so sweet, a feeling I have been dreaming about since catching her in my arms on the bridge. It’s just me holding her in the quiet of this dreamy and sparkling street, and it feels so extraordinary. Another memory from this evening that I will hold onto forever.
We arrive at the door to her apartment steps, and I place her down so she can unlock it. From behind her, I remove her curls from one side of her neck and start to kiss her gently on the skin that’s now exposed. She starts to fumble with her keys, and it only encourages me. I move down to her collarbone, and continue with slow kisses and a gentle nibble that makes one of her knees buckle. Success.
“Oh my god. This damn key,” She’s completely flustered.
“Is it the keys fault?” I murmur against her.
“You know it isn’t.” With that short break in my kisses, she gets the door open, and I follow her up the stairs. I have never been this nervous with a woman, butterflies battering my stomach. The sensation is more thrilling than anything I have experienced.
We enter her apartment, and I am taken aback. It’s her. It’s warm and inviting and I can see several spots that make me want to curl up with her and spend a lifetime. Everything is soft and dimly lit, and I see that my last surprise has fallen into place, as she opens the door to her bedroom and gasps. “How?”
Her room is lit entirely by candlelight (battery operated), courtesy of a little help from Annie. It’s bright enough to see each other, but even more romantic than I pictured now that I know she has a wrought iron bed. Her room looks like it is out of one of her romance novels, and I am suddenly wondering if this is too much. “Annie helped me with this, I hope it is not too cheesy.”
She is just staring into her room, back at me, saying nothing. Twisting those rings on her fingers, and yet again making me wonder if I am doing the right thing when it comes to her.
“I didn’t mean to assume you would bring me up. I know how sacred your space is to you. Obviously, I hoped you would.I wanted you to have a little romance, even if ended up not involving me tonight,” I explain. She’s still quiet.
I give her time to process the space and having me in it. I start to realize that maybe her confidence is wavering, and I was right about this being too fast. She hasn’t been with a man in six years and here I am, in her apartment after our first official date, making assumptions about things she would find romantic. Having an even better understanding of her anxiety after all she shared with me tonight, I can see this was a probably a large miscalculation on my part.
“How about you enjoy the ambiance on your own tonight and get some rest? You can call me tomorrow? I had an amazing time, and I want to see you again as soon as you will let me. Breakfast tomorrow?” I hear myself say as I step to her and kiss her on the forehead.
“Wait, don’t go.” She reaches out and grabs my arm, then moves her hand down to my palm and entwines our fingers together. “I don’t mean to be quiet, this whole evening has been dreamy, so perfect, it’s just overwhelming me. Not in a bad way, I am just taking time to remember it all, remember how you were with me. I want you here. Please stay.”
“That sounds like a much better plan.” My entire body shuddering in a relief.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Marcy
Nick stands in front of me in my apartment, my safe space. Our cards have been laid on the table, both of us acknowledging how badly we want each other, and recognizing that we are both little scared about what comes next. We appreciate that we are on a precipice of an adventure that would be new to each of us for opposing reasons; neither of us going in blind to the risks of our complicated histories.
“That sounds like a much better plan.” He says to me, as he steps in front of me. We both still have our coats and shoes on, as if neither one of us remembers the next steps to entering a building. It’s almost as if we are frozen, both a little too nervous to function when we finally find ourselves alone and in a personal space. The idea that I am not the only one with unease in this scenario is curiously comforting.
The romantic scene that my bedroom has transformed into nearly made me emotional with the thoughtfulness of it, and I clearly owe Annie a few favors after this. No wonder she kept looking at me suspiciously while she was getting me ready, she had a secret.
“Is it okay if I help you out of your jacket?” Nick asks, as he takes off his own and drapes it over the back of my couch. I take in the sight of him in my living room, and its overwhelmingly right. I nod permission and he comes up behind me, grabbing the lapels and slipping it slowly down my body, placing it on top of his own. Goosebumps are running down my body, and I am sure he can tell.
I can’t decide if I want us to take our time, or if I want him to immediately bend me over the back of the sofa like our coats and have his way with me.
“What do you want me to do, Marcy?” His voice is low, his eyes soft and his hands are gently pulling my hair back over my shoulders.
“I’m not sure, you are the first man I have ever had in this apartment.” He spins me to face him.
“You said you lived here a decade. Not even your ex?”
“No, I guess not wanting him here should have been a big red flag at the time.” I giggle to myself at the absurdity of that fact.
