Page 35 of Wicked Truths

“Some bullshit about how I should’ve kept my cool, and not acted like an asshole.”

Samson threw him a measured look. “I would’ve said fuckin’ asshole, but yeah, you’re in the ballpark.”

“Like you were so logical when you went through all this with Lisbeth and the moron she was hooked up with.”

Nick didn’t like throwing the past in Samson’s face, but it had to be said.

“I get it, but you gotta at least give her a chance. It’s been ten years, and a lot of shit could’ve happened, namely getting hooked up with Russo.”

“He has to be holding something over her head. Why else would she hook up with him?”

“I don’t know maybe . . .”

“What?”

“Nothing, forget it.”

“Spit it out.”

“Before Johnny got sent up back in New York he was Frank’s number one, so maybe this arrangement does have something to do with Frank.”

Nick swiped up the tumbler of bourbon. “Exactly what I said a week ago.”

“Then ask her straight out, but you gotta keep your cool, you can’t go off on her again.”

Nick shook his head. “Even back in Brooklyn she always knew how to light me up. A few damn words and she can get me from zero to sixty in two minutes flat.”

“Must be love.” Samson followed the sarcastic comment with an eye roll, but he was right. He had loved Cheryl and this afternoon every one of those feelings resurfaced.

After Nick stormed out, Cheryl sat staring out the window. When the Bellagio fountains geared up for the second time she snapped herself out of her fog and pulled herself together. She showered in the luxurious bathroom and dressed, but she could still smell Nick’s scent on her skin. It should’ve been impossible after the hot shower and the fragrant soap, or maybe her mind conjured up his scent to torture her. Either way, she gathered her things and escaped the room.

The door slammed behind her and she wished she could close down her brain as easily. The way he commanded her body, knowing every nuance. The total abandon then the exhilarating release. She’d forgotten the freedom of letting go knowing once wouldn’t be enough—but Nick made himself clear then left her with her regrets. The euphoric buzz of the martini turned into a throbbing reminder of what could never happen.

She drove home and immersed herself in the normalcy of helping Portia with her homework. New math was no joke and Portia ended up teaching Cheryl a different way to do division. Cheryl made them a simple meal of chicken cutlets and Portia’s favorite, mac and cheese from the box. Not the most nutritious but after Nick drained her emotions Cheryl couldn’t muster up the energy to make it from scratch.

“What’s wrong?” Portia’s question drew Cheryl to the here and now.

“Nothing.” She answered much too quickly and her observant ten-year-old picked up on it immediately cocking her head.

“Are you dreaming about your prince?”

Prince Charming was a private mother/daughter joke shared since Portia was little. Cheryl made it a point to tell Portia early on fairy tales were fun to read, but they were nowhere near real life. She’d then add a woman had to make her own fantasies come true and not rely on Prince Charming. Since then whenever Cheryl was lost in thought Portia would tease her about wishing for her prince.

“No, smarty, just a little tired tonight.” Cheryl covered her comment with a light laugh. If Portia only knew how close she’d come to the truth. Nick was certainly no Prince Charming, but back in the day he’d saved her more than once.

“It’s okay to dream, Mom.” Portia laid down her forkful of mac and cheese. “Sometimes I wish you would fall in love for real.”

“What do you?—”

Portia rolled her eyes with the drama of a Hollywood actress. “It’s obvious you don’t love Johnny. He’s hardly ever home and the only time you’re together is when he entertains or you go out.”

So much for hiding the truth from her child. Sometimes Cheryl forgot Portia’s blunt perception. Another trait she shared with her father.

Cheryl reached across the table and squeezed her little hand. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“I’m not actually worried, I just wish you were happier.” The child’s little voice gripped her heart. Even her ten-year-old wasn’t fooled by the facade.

After tucking Portia in later, Cheryl knew what she had to do. Portia’s innocent words mixed with Nick’s angry accusations and acted as a catalyst for her future.

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