Breaking Lacy (Nick & Lacy Book 1) Page 21

  What if I was wrong, though? What if all those things I heard and felt and saw in him weren’t really there, but were my wishful imagination instead? Did I dare take the risk and trust my instincts?

  “What’s on your mind, Lace? Please talk to me. Please trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I was just thinking about how grateful I am for this chance we’ve had to become friends. We’ve been like family to each other our whole lives, yet were little more than acquaintances until a few months ago. Imagine if we could have been this close all along.”

  There. It was nothing more than the truth. He couldn’t read anything into the subtlety of my words if he didn’t want to, yet encouragement was there if he sought it.

  His sad smile came and went so fast that I almost missed it. “Just imagine… But we did find each other, and that’s what matters. And I think we’ve made up for lost time quite efficiently, don’t you?”

  I flashed him a genuine smile. “Quite.”

  Nicked leaned closer to kiss my forehead, and then stared deep into my eyes for such a long moment that my hopes flared, thinking he might kiss me. Naturally, my exhaustion of the late night chose that moment to catch up to me in the form of a yawn. He grinned and chuckled. “I don’t think my ego can handle knowing I bored a girl to sleep. Go to bed, Lace.”

  On his way out the door, he stopped and turned back to me. His firm warning came in complete disparity to the tenderness in his tone. “I know your birthday is technically Thursday, but we’re going to celebrate a day late this year. Don’t make any plans for Friday night.”

  But I had to work at the club Friday night!

  “Promise?” he asked when I hesitated, and he apparently sensed I was about to object. “No hot dates with Alex,” he teased. “And no excuses. We had a deal. You promised me on my birthday, remember?”

  “My birthday shall belong to you,” I swore.

  ∞∞∞

  Part Three

  Lacy

  Alex hadn’t liked it and had tried to guilt me into canceling my date with Nick by exploiting my commitment to the band, but I stood my ground. It was only one night, and his uncle had a backup DJ on the payroll. In the end, Susan and Dorian had both vied on my behalf, arguing with Alex that it was my eighteenth birthday—I deserved the night off.

  The day should have been momentous. If my mother were still alive and I still lived my old life back home, Kevin and I would have spent the day together. Our parents would have thrown us an enormous party. My father was going to present me with my first car, and I would have spent hours cruising through town with Kevin and Mark, showing off my new wheels. My mother would have given me the pearl necklace and matching set that my grandmother had given her on her eighteenth birthday—the ones that I had wanted to keep for myself after her death, before my father expunged her from our house. Kevin and I would have gone on a date later. He would have tried convincing me to make love to him tonight, and with graduation and the original wedding date only a month or so away now, I probably would have given in and let him.

  How much my life had changed in only a few short months!

  I wore my hair down, the soft waves freely cascading about my shoulders and back. As a birthday gift to myself, I had picked out a new dress: a pastel-pink sun-dress with spaghetti straps, a heart-shaped fitted bodice, and a flaring knee-length skirt. To complete the ensemble, I traded in my usual ballet flats for a pair of heels. I smoothed on some lip-gloss and dabbed a little jasmine perfume across my throat before going out to wait for Nick in the living room.

  He called while I was getting dressed to say he was running late, so I decided to use the time alone to place the call I had been dreading all day.

  “Hi, Kevin,” I said when he answered.

  “Lacy? Is that you?” The joyous uplift of his tone flooded me with so much guilt that I almost regretted my decision to phone him.

  “Yes. I just wanted to wish you happy birthday,” I said noncommittally, prepared to hang up at once if he started asking too many questions.

  “Happy birthday to you too,” he said, with a familiar intimacy that broke my heart. When I couldn’t think of anything to say, he readily filled the silent void. “How have you been?”

  “Good. You?”

  Another strained silence.

  “I miss you,” he said, his declaration creating a subtle opening for tentative probing.

  I obliged him with what I feared might be the last truthful words that would leave my lips over the course of our remaining conversation. “I miss you too, Kevin.”

  “Then why haven’t you called more often.”

  “It’s our birthday, Kevin. In eighteen years we’ve never spent this day apart. I just miss you more than usual today and wanted to call and tell you. That’s all.”

  He must have sensed that I was about to end the call, for he hurried to intercept my efforts. “Lacy, just tell me where you are, please. I want to see you. I need to see you. We need to talk. We have things to sort out.” When I didn’t respond, he softly added, “I love you. Please come home. We had plans.”

  My tears came fast, and I choked on the lump in my throat, improperly prepared for this avenue of discussion. I had only planned to wish him a happy birthday and then quickly end the call. This was going all wrong. I didn’t want to have to lie.

  “Lacy, we still have plans, right? Nothing has changed for me since you’ve been gone. Just tell me you’ll be coming home soon and that nothing has changed for you either.”

  “I have to go now,” I said with forced curtness, trying to harden myself against the plea in his tone. I didn’t want to break his heart the way he had shattered mine. Not now. Not today of all days. Not over the phone like this.

  Kevin and Claire had taught me how it felt to be blind-sided by someone you loved and trusted. I did still love Kevin. Part of me would always love him in a place no other man alive could ever touch. But I couldn’t go back to him. His one night of lust with Claire was harmless compared to me losing my whole heart to Nick. Kevin deserved the truth, and he deserved to have me sitting in front of him, looking him in the eye when the time came to give it to him.

  Before either one of us could say more, the front door opened without warning. Chris had gone home for the weekend, so I knew it was Nick even before he cheerfully called out, “Close your eyes, birthday girl!”

  Afraid Kevin would hear Nick and recognize his voice, I covered my mouth over the phone and whispered urgently into the receiver, “Kevin, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

  “Lacy, wait!” he pleaded, but I ignored his appeal.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I could say.

  I hung up the phone just as Nick called out again, “Are they closed?”

  Stunned, going from one emotional extreme to the other—melancholy from talking to Kevin, and elation from knowing my evening with Nick was about to begin—I stood there staring at the door for a second too long without answering. Nick poked his head around and scowled when he saw me gazing back at him. “I said close ’em.”

  Trying to shake off the thoughts of Kevin, I laughed with forced mirth and did as I was told, sort of.

  “Are they closed?” he called from the other side of the door, the sound of his voice alone was enough to put a genuine smile on my face.

  “Yes,” I said, playfully trying to peak through the bristly blur of eyelashes. He pushed the door all the way open, caught me, and cleared his throat. I laughed again, fully complying with his wishes this time.

  Whatever he had brought with him, he made a clamorous production of carrying it inside. “Don’t look,” he warned with urgent excitement, as though he sensed that my curiosity was about to get the better of me. There were a few moments of thumping and scraping as he finished carrying his load from the porch into the living room, preparing the scene for my viewing.

  Instead of telling me when he was ready for me to look, Nick came to guide me from the kitchen to the living room. He stopped after o
nly a few steps though.

  “Oh, wait! I almost forgot,” he said suddenly. I opened my eyes to see what was wrong and saw his easel set up behind him. The painting, what I assumed he meant to show me, was covered by a sheet so his surprise wouldn’t be ruined. He noticed my gaze and smiled. “We’ll get back to that in a minute. I need to give you something first. Close your eyes again,” he instructed, taking me by the shoulders and turning me around so that my back was to him.

  I did as he commanded and a moment later, the heat from his body so close to mine filled me with a burst of imaginary electricity. Then I felt the weight of something on my chest and realized he was fastening a necklace around my throat. Once he had the strand clasped in place and adjusted my hair accordingly, his hands returned to my bare arms, sending another warm jolt of familiarity through me when he kissed the back of my head.

  “That was a ‘hello’ and ‘happy birthday’ from your father,” he said softly, guiding me back around to face him.

  I opened my eyes and looked down to find my mother’s pearl necklace.

  “I drove home this morning. While I was there, I went over to see Jerry. When I mentioned that we had plans for this evening, he gave me the necklace. And these too,” he added, retrieving a small, blue velvet box from his trouser pocket and presenting it to me. Inside were the matching bracelet and earrings to complete the heirloom set. “He said you would recognize them, and for me to tell you he was sorry that he didn’t let you have them sooner.”

  Biting back the tears, I stared lovingly down at the strands lying against the swell of my bosom. Not wanting to ruin the evening over a bout of melancholic nostalgia, I made myself look up to face him and tried my best to smile.

  “I’m okay. A little sad, but it’s a happy sad. It won’t spoil our plans for tonight.”

  “I know.” He pulled me close for a quick embrace. “You look beautiful wearing your mother’s pearls, just like she did.”

  “Thank you, Nick.” I slid my arms around his waist, holding on tight with my cheek to his chest, savoring the feel of his arms around me. His chin came to rest on the top of my head. After a moment his embrace took on a decidedly intimate feel that made my heart skip.

  “I like your new dress,” he said, still holding me. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how dazzling you look.”

  I smiled against his shirt collar. “Thank you. So do you.” It was true too. He looked sleek and debonair in a pair of black slacks, a black dinner jacket, and a black silk dress-shirt that he had left unbuttoned about the collar, appearing just the right mix of casual and elegant.

  “I wasn’t sure what to wear. You didn’t tell me where we were going,” I murmured, not wanting to break the magic of our spell.

  “I thought we’d start off by hitting a show at the campus improv. I’ve seen the stand-up routine of the guy lined up for this weekend and he’s hilarious. And after that, I made a reservation at the new Italian restaurant across town. And then we’ll wrap up the outing with a round of miniature golf. And after that, I bought a bottle of champagne and thought we could come home and down it while we stargaze the way you love.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said, sounding much dreamier than I intended. He smiled against my temple, and suddenly I knew I didn’t want to waste a moment of our evening.

  The night would be long and rife with opportunity to push the boundaries of our relationship. I didn’t know what or how to do any of the things that Claire surely must have done to make him stay with her for so long, but I had to do something, even if it was only subtle flirtation and innuendo. I was adult enough to realize that even though I had loved Kevin with my whole heart, it wasn’t the way a woman was supposed to love the man she planned to marry. I hadn’t realized it then but being with Nick had made me aware now. I had never wanted to be with Kevin the way I wanted to be with Nick—in every way. All I knew now was that I didn’t want to waste one more second in unhappy uncertainty if there was the remotest possibility that I could make Nick want me the way I wanted him.

  He cleared his throat and pulled away. “Okay. Now for the surprise. You need to close your eyes again.” I set the jewel case down on the coffee table and did as he commanded. “As per your request, I now submit for your consideration, my final senior project, slash contest entry, slash birthday present,” he gushed.

  “Can I look now?”

  “Not yet,” he said quickly, when I started to open my eyes. “Now, Lace, listen. I am very proud of this painting. Just remember that it was your idea. You pushed me to do it. And I’m going to submit it no matter what you say. Okay?”

  I tried quelling my alarm by telling myself he was just anxious. If he was anything like me, showing off a new work was always a cause for insecurity and apprehension.

  “Nick, you are the most gifted artist in the world,” I declared. And to me, he was the best. The world would find out soon enough too. “And I know I’m going to love this painting because I love all your work. Can I see it now?”

  “Yes.”

  I opened my eyes. He stood close beside me, watching my face with intense scrutiny to gauge my reaction.

  “Well? What do you think?” he asked when the sight rendered me speechless.

  There I was, lying on my back on the rooftop over my bedroom window back home in Claryville. On canvas, I wore my favorite pajamas; the pink silk ones with the tiny rosebuds embroidered along the low, dipping collar. The night air had caused my nipples to harden and protrude quite visibly, and Nick had captured that nuance with such embarrassing detail that I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I continued studying the canvas. I was staring up at the starry sky and the moon, which was full and round. Its rays streaked the strands of my hair, turning them vibrant silvery-blue to his mind’s eye. I had never noticed my own lips before, but, apparently, Nick saw them as deep wine-red, in stark contrast to my fair complexion, giving my likeness an almost vampire-ish quality. In his graphic depiction of me, I thought that he managed to make me look not only pretty but sexy.

  “This isn’t me,” I said, unable to believe that the beautiful, womanly figure he had painted, and I—a mere girl—was one and the same.

  “What do you mean?” Nick looked over his work again and then back to me. “Of course, it’s you, silly.”

  “I don’t look like that,” I whispered, still embarrassed.

  “You don’t like it,” he said, sounding hurt and deflated.

  “No, no! Nick, I love it, I really do. I just… I don’t… I mean… Nick, I’m not that pretty in real life!”

  “What!” His light laugh helped ease some of my tension, but only a little. “Lace, that is you, and yes, you are that beautiful.”

  Not missing the fact that he referred to me as beautiful, and not just pretty, my joy over his admission was overshadowed by my bashfulness.

  “But…” I drawled, not at all comfortable with broaching the subject of my real concern any other way but to just blurt it right out. “You put so much detail into it, Nick. I mean…” I lowered my voice to a helpless whisper. “My boobs…” I turned my gaze back to the painting and folded my arms in front of my breasts as though he could see through my clothing at that moment. “I’m not sure I want everyone seeing me in such detail. What if your mom or dad, or Kevin sees it?”

  I let my troubled stare drift over the work again, nibbling my bottom lip in unease. The painting really was a work of art, and if he had painted anyone but me, I would have been just as enthusiastic as he was about wanting him to enter it in the contest—a contest that was my idea from the start, I reminded myself. He hadn’t even wanted to enter until I insisted. I couldn’t deny him an opportunity to shine because I was so childishly bashful.

  I took a deep breath and lifted my chin in pride from knowing I had inspired him. “I really do love it, Nick. It’s beautiful, and I am flattered. You’ve immortalized me.”

  Nick’s broad smile was instantaneous, and before I could react, he had me in his arms, pick
ing me up off my feet and spinning me around, his happy laughter contagious, infecting me as well.

  “Oh, Lace,” he gushed, still laughing. “I knew you would love it. This one is going to win, I just know it.” He finally put me back down, but before my feet were firmly on the ground, suddenly his lips were on mine.

  His kiss wasn’t a real kiss, but rather a heat-of-the-moment peck that was over a split second later. And yet he still held me close, not looking the least bit apologetic when he said, “Sorry. Got carried away there for a minute.”

  His gaze remained riveted on mine, waiting for my reaction, and I realized that if I wanted things to change between us, if I wanted Nick to know how I felt, now was the perfect moment, here on my eighteenth birthday.

  “I’m not sorry.”

  His arm instantly tightened around my waist, pulling me closer, almost flush against him. I didn’t realize my breathing had become so shallow until I couldn’t help the shaky exhale that took all the tension out of my body with it.

  Now he knew.

  His small smile made his eyes glimmer. “I lied. I’m not sorry either,” he said, sounding as relieved as I felt. He cupped my cheek and stared down at me with a mixture of longing and tenderness that made my heart skip. “I’ve been dying to do that for a very long time.”

  I took a deep breath to steel my nerves. “Me too.”

  His eyes darkened, and his gaze fell to my lips. “Good. Then if it’s okay with you, I’m going to do it again.”

  Lacy

  I slid my hands up his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt as though it were a lifeline, instinctively knowing that Nick’s kiss, once in full swing, was going to be something I needed to hang on for. And sure enough, as soon as his lips touched mine and coaxed them apart, every nerve in my body spontaneously combusted. Like I was suddenly deaf and blind, the only sensation was the way his lips felt against mine. He kissed me slow and lazy, taking his time so we could savor each other and memorize the moment.