Definitely the last chapter this time. I hope you all enjoy.
Oh, dear God.
Here we go again.
"Hi, Nick."
I never get used to these kinds of things. "Hey, umm, aren't I supposed to pick you up in four hours, you know, at the airport?"
"Right, about that," she said, fiddling with the sunglasses with her gloved fingers, "I kinda got an earlier flight-"
"Why didn't you tell me, I could've gone a little earlier," I say, holding Lauren even tighter to me as I feel her slipping.
"I wasn't going to give you an excuse for leaving," she replies, shaking her finger and giving me a wide smile. "I know how anxious you get with this type of thing-"
"No, not anxious," I say, butting in, "I wasn't nervous or anything-"
"Right," she says, and just watching her twisting her fingers around makes me want to take those gloves of and kiss them. "I sorta booked an early flight to surprise you-"
"Aww, how sweet," I say, teasing her, and I want to give her a hug, but seeing that my niece in currently in my arms, I can't exactly do that.
"Looks like you're being sweet with someone else," she says out of the blue, giggling quietly and giving me a wide grin.
"Huh? What do you- oh," I say, realizing that she was referring to the little baby girl who was currently fast asleep in my embrace.
"She's so teeny," she said, cooing over her, coming in close enough to pat her cheek lightly, but she doesn't come in contact with me. "Is she Kevin's second?"
"Yup, this is Lauren," I say, leaning in a tiny bit so she could get a better view, "but everyone calls her Laurie, so, I guess you can call her Laurie-"
"I'm privileged," she says, and, finally, she gives me what I've wanted for so long. She gently places her hand on my forearm, and inches in closer, but I see early on that it's not exactly to get in close proximity. "She's the goddaughter you mentioned, right?"
"Yep," I say, stroking the child's cheek lightly.
"Hiya, Laurie," she says, bending forward slightly so that she's almost face to face with the sleeping tot. "I'm talking to a napping kid. Jet lag?"
"Possible," I say, tilting my head a tiny bit so that I could see her better, the clearness of her eyes, the little lift in the corner of her mouth, the poutiness, the rosiness, just, dammit, everything. "But it doesn't really look like it."
She looks over to me this time, a warm smile creeping up to her face, her cheeks getting even rosier, if that was even possible, and she makes me the happiest man on earth. She pinches my nose nimbly with her index finger and thumb, and strokes my cheek. I suddenly get the urge to do the same, because her nose is just that adorable, but I really can't do anything about that now, sadly. So, instead, I just lean forward and nudge my nose against hers for a short second, and a cute giggle comes out of her. We both like being close to each other. And I like being the center of her attention.
Sorry, Laurie.
"Still smooth, Lucas," she says, tucking a few strands of her now short dark brown hair behind her ears, poking playfully at my nose.
"Yeah, I would still love to believe that," I say, giving her a small sheepish grin, and I find myself just embracing the kid even more snugly. I give her a little glance and I tell her as sincerely as I could "No lie, though Misa, you look really good."
She slants her head to the side, the smile just growing even wider, and she says, "I do, don't I?"
"Did you in any way coordinate with Stella?," I ask her, taking note again of her Gaga-esque get-up.
She nods enthusiastically, giggling happily again, before saying, "she sent it over to me a while back-"
"So you planned this surprise for how long?"
"Not important," she says, stopping me with her palm in my face, "yeah, so, I just got here a little early-"
I stare at her, curiosity getting the better of me, and I note out loud, "you never told me you got your hair un-bleached-"
"The bleach sort of just went away," she answers, a hand automatically just going up to touch said hair "is that possible?"
"I don't know, but either way, still pretty," I say, before realizing that the lack of oxygen I noticed only now might just be affecting me and the way I think.
"Can't breathe again?," she asks, and I know for a fact that she's just trying to provoke me.
"No, I'm good," I say, but I find it getting even more difficult to hold on to this kid. "Short hair. Why?"
"'Cause I wanted," she replies, propping her hands on her hips and leaning forward. I can feel myself just slumping already. "Besides, playing soccer with long hair is a big hassle," she says going on to attempt to aggravate me a little by flipping her bangs off of her face.
"That reminds me," I say, trying to get my mind off her, "Olympic gold medalist, real proud of you Mace. And two goals out of four, even prouder of you-"
"One of the most exhilarating times of my life" she said, glee completely washing over her face, "kicking that guy in the nads was almost as fun-"
"Hey, your language," I say, gesturing to the baby, "but yes, that was fun to watch."
"Uh-huh," she laughs loudly, much to my delight, "leaving ice skating was one of the better decisions I've made in a long time."
Yes, darling. Yes, it is.
"And you, oh my God, you," she says, punching my arm lightly, and giving into another fit of giggles, "four more Grammys-"
"Yes, you want to see my collection?," I say, getting a bit of my pride back. "There's a Tony in there too-"
"Oh yeah, that," she said, giggling even more, "I'm sure Les Mis would have looked better onstage, rather than the computer screen-"
"Well, you made an effort anyway," I tell her shrugging a little, "and it is very much appreciated."
"You're welcome," she says, giving me a curtsy. I'm very fond of her curtsies. "You do a very good rendition of 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables'-"
"Yeah, I really would still love to believe that," I say, smirking at her, "but thanks for mentioning the Tony. I got hurt."
"Yeah, I know, I watched," she said, feigning a whimper. Yes, everyone has given me that same little sob, but strangely enough, it's only when she's doing it do I feel equally as bad and weepy, maybe even worse. I usually just get really pissed. "Are you okay, because it looked really bad on the computer-"
"No, I'm fine," I reply, shaking my head, "it's my fault for not paying attention-"
"Yeah, Frank called me about that," she said mischievously, "what was this thing I heard about you seeing me in the audience?"
"Yeah, turns out I was just getting a little dizzy, and started seeing you everywhere," I say, feeling a little ashamed, "sort of what I get for being so busy-"
"But no lie, I'm amazed at how you can still be in this sort of business-"
"And part-time party planner," I add under my breath, but just loud enough for her to hear.
She smiles, sniggering quietly, and says, "You're on a league of your own, Lucas."
I glimpse over to her, a little bemused, and tell her, "I don't know about that. I mean, I think you're in it with me."
"I don't think so," she says, shaking her head.
"Really? 'Cause I think you are. Way past me, I'd say."
She raises her eyebrow, and I can see that she's skeptical, but I somehow just forget all about that when she plants a small peck on my nose, dangerously close to my mouth. Damn it, just a tiny bit more.
"Nick?," she asks, and I can hear that she's a little concerned.
"Yeah?," I answer absent-mindedly.
"Are you okay? You still breathing there?," she asks, and, even though my eyesight is not being very cooperative at the moment, I can see that she was peering at my face.
"I guess," I answer back, because I am a little out of it, "why? Something wrong?"
"Yeah," she says, appearing to be quite apprehensive and even taking a step closer, "your niece-"
"What about her- oh," I come to apprehend that the still slumbering girl (amazing that she can sleep through something like that, I know I can't) was falling slowly out of my arms (not too much, mind you), as her feet were already dangling out of my grip.
I am somehow amazed, however, that Macy didn't notice that I was already slumping a little, and I know it's not from the weight of the baby.
"You want me to take her for you?," she ask, placing her shades on her head, and holding out her hand, "I mean, I dunno for how long this party has been going on, but I can see that you're kinda tired-"
"No, I'm good," I say, but mostly because I just want the air to come back.
"Nick, you're slipping," she tells me a fact that I am very much aware of. "Just let me-"
"No, its fine-"
"How come I don't believe you?"
"Oh, sure, now you're the one who's not convinced-"
"Can you just give me the kid-"
"No-"
"Why the hell not?"
"Language, Misa-"
"You're gonna collapse any minute-"
"No, I'm a man, men don't collapse-"
"Men aren't supposed to lose their breath around girls," she said, inching in again, and practically ribs me to death by holding me firmly at the hips, and pulling me even closer to her, completely ignoring the little girl in between us. Her gorgeous face is only a few inches away from mine, and I can see clearly how her eyes are shining with that irresistible confidence, how, with her cheeks, she really resembles a rose, and how glossy her lips are in their full, pouty glory. And I'm also wondering what flavor her lip gloss is, and how it would taste. Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
"Holy shit-"
"Language, Lucas," she says, holding down the laugh that I know she has in her, and she outstretches her arms, but doesn't try to increase the amount of space between us.
She's torturing me.
I reluctantly hand over the small infant gingerly to her waiting arms, and she, shame on me, just looks so natural with a baby in her embrace. She just coos and shushes the little girl to keep on sleeping, sweeping the little tufts of hair from her face, taking hold of her little limbs, her small fingers, and playing with her fairy costume. It just seems so effortless. Oh my God, holy Jesus Christ.
And then, just when I don't want it to, the idiot in me just blurts out something I usually wouldn't say.
"What flavor is your lip gloss?"
Oh, holy crap.
But, much to my astonishment, she replies without an upward glance, quite indifferently, "appletini."
"EBay?"
"EBay," she confirms, glancing up for a second and giving me a smile, before turning back her attention to Lauren.
"Laurie likes you," I say, observing how peaceful the child looks in her hold.
"How do you know, she's sleeping," she asks, still gazing intently at the snoozing baby.
"Exactly," I exclaim, "Only a few certain people can get her to sleep, or rather, to stay asleep, because she spends most of her time crying and eating. Even her own parents have a hard time with her."
"Hmm, so she must like you too," she says thoughtfully,
"Yes, she loves me," I reply, pushing my hands into my pockets and smirking.
"Well, I guess that makes two of us," she says, the right corner of her mouth going up. She's going to kill me by drowning me in happiness.
"I really want to know what an appletini tastes like," I say, my eyes dead set on her mouth, and she responses by smiling even wider.
"Really? Then why didn't you tell me?," Kevin rolls in, Danielle in tow, holding his arm, and I know they've had a bit too much to drink over at the adult table, but not yet exactly drunk, because they're both giggling out of control. "Well, whatevs, man, I got you a mimosa, just like I said I would- oh, hiya, Macy of school," he said, turning to her, waving his hand stiffly.
"Hi, uhh, Anthony," she replies rather nervously.
"Ha, you heard that, she called me Tony," he says, looking over to his wife, who's make-up was still surprisingly perfect, "clever, still very clever-"
"Kev, we were kind of having a moment there," I say through gritted teeth. Wow, I am pissed right now.
"Well, we're having a moment now," he replies, laughing again and patting my wrist (he can't reach very far).
"Hey, there Little Monster!," Dani comes forward excitedly, pulling Macy into a half-hug. She's caught off guard, but she leans into the hug, leaning only obviously because her arms are pre-occupied. "You look so different!"
"I could say the same," she answers, moving back slightly so Lauren wouldn't wake up. "Since when were you Asian?"
"Since five hours ago!," she answers even more eagerly, bouncing up and down a little.
"Wow, uhh, good for you," she trailed off, not really knowing how to react.
"Kev, Dani, leave," I say as calmly as I could, even though I was furious. They ruined a moment, and God knows how many moments I get.
"But we need to bring Laurie back to the nursery," he said, suddenly seeming to be genuinely sincere.
"It's nap time," she says enthusiastically to Macy, holding on to her arm.
"I can see that," she replies, and I find it funny that Danielle's acting a lot like how Macy was during her fan girl days, and Macy's acting a lot like how Danielle acts most of the time.
"You know what, it's okay, I'll bring her there," I say finally, because I am really sick of this conversation.
"No, I'll bring her there-"
"No, Kev, you're in a metal suit, how are you going to carry a bay in that," I say, halting him with my hand, "and Dani, you're a little out of it anyway, so-"
"I resent that, brother-in-law," she says solemnly, before falling into another fit of giggles.
"Whatever," I answer, shaking my head, "the two of you, just go get a mimosa or two on me, okay- yes, on me, Dani, now can you just leave? Yeah, okay, bye Kev-"
He struggles to pat my cheek (and man, did that hurt), with her grinning widely and helping him roll away. Macy looks over to me, a concerned look on her face, and she holds the young baby girl closer to her.
"They're really good parents," I reassure her, reading the unsaid question off of her face.
"I know, I just think drinking isn't exactly a really good thing for a people who have kids-"
"Don't worry, they can't really hold down their alcohol," I say, waving my hand indifferently, "they must have had maybe a glass, two tops."
"That's heartening, I guess," she replies with a shrug. She gestures to the baby, and asks me, "so, should we bring her to the nursery? We can talk up there."
I purse my lips together, later biting the bottom severely, and let my head wonder freely as I think it over, but, as much as I would really love to say yes, and believe me, I really, really, freaking want to, I say to her, "no, maybe not now."
"Why?," she asks me, tilting her head off to the side. At this point, I may as well just die today.
I don't say anything, but I jolt my head a tiny bit upwards as a reply, and when she looks back, Stella and Joe, not knowing that they were being watched, were arguing loudly at the top of the staircase.
"Mace! Wait just a bit- Joe, I swear to God, would it kill you to help me a little-"
"What do you mean, help you-"
"Down the stairs, you idiot!"
"Are those the baby hormones kicking in, or what-"
"I just want to see my best friend, don't you want to see her too?"
"I do, jeez-"
"Are you complaining, now, Lucas?"
"They fight like an old couple," she says rather non-chalantly. "Ahh, the wonders of pregnancy and matrimony."
"Agreed," I say, my shoulders popping up shortly. "Here, I'll bring her there, go greet them-"
"Are you sure?," she asks uneasily. "Don't you want me to come with you?"
"I think I can handle a fourteen and a half month old kid," I say, smirking at her. "Stella looks pretty excited to see you anyway."
"But-"
"Do you want to see your best friend or not?," I ask her, but before she can answer, I'm already taking hold of Laurie, and walking away. In all honesty, I just want to catch my breath for a second, and I can't do that when she's around.
"But Nick," she tries to protest, but I'm already going up to the second floor, and Stella had attacked her with a bear hug of epic proportions, with Joe sulking not far behind, shades completely covering his brooding eyes.
"Just look for me later," I call out, and I see plenty of hopeful ladies look up at me. Maybe that was a little louder than what I had intended.
I go up the flight of stairs quickly, because she's already squirming slightly, but I manage to keep her snoring, and I step into the second door to the left. It was the nursery Joe had worked on laboriously for six months on, coated in a bright Tiffany blue color (Stella had insisted they named her Tiffany since they already knew it was a girl, much to her delight), a rose pink crib, and toys everywhere (and I really do mean everywhere), and it was still smelling of paint faintly. I have to give it to him, he did a good job.
"Hey, Laurie," I whisper quietly as I set her down to rest. She waves her arms and legs up in the air for a minute, making strange noises, and then, by some sort of strange magic, she settles down, and just checks out of consciousness.
I really, really, want one.
But I only want to have it with one person. But I don't know if she'd want to give me that chance. And I don't even know if I'm still sure of what doing-
Oh, great. Now I remember about that.
I stand back up, setting my hands on the ledge, leaning forward, and dipping my head down to the direction of the crib. I am freaking exhausted.
"Drama," I say out loud, quite unlike me, and I step back, and putting my hands back in my pockets.
Drama indeed.
I feel around my pocket, and I pull out my white gold purity ring, and believe it or not, it's the first time I've really taken a look at it for a few months. I place it on my left ring finger, where I've been wearing it for most of my life, and ball my hand into a fist, trying to get used to it, but it somehow feels like it doesn't belong there anymore, it felt a little foreign.
I take it out, twist it between my index finger and my thumb, and funnily enough, it seems to have a particular sheen when the little sunlight coming through the windows hits it, the same kind of twinkle that she has in her eyes. Then, it only takes me a second to realize something.
There's been a little bit of her in this since I chose her. It's always going to be her, and I'm sort of thankful that she is.
But still. Am I doing the right thing?
God, if there's ever going to be a time when I'm sure I need your help, it's going to be now.
I love her, and it's driving me to the point where I've lost my sense of self. That never happens with anyone else.
"It had to be you, Misa," I say, ruffling my hair out of frustration. It had to be her. Out of all the surely wonderful fish in the sea, I had to pick her-
"What had to be me?"
I spin around, in a full circle, and come face to face with Macy, again, who was entering the room and closing the door behind her.
"What? Oh, no, that's nothing," I say, but I'm pretty sure none of us was convinced by that, "that was pretty quick, even for you."
"Yeah, it actually didn't take long before Stella got hungry again," she replies, walking towards the crib (more like skipping, if you ask me), "she dragged me with her to get a bite to eat, but then again, she and Joe started arguing over the little stain he made on her dress, so I sorta just slipped out. Didn't really take a long time to find the nursery, only Stella would have a room colored Robin's Egg blue and still insist on having genuine Tiffany jewelry mounted on the walls," she says, pointing to the little diamonds and others pinpointed on certain places of the room.
"Hmm, sounds authentic enough," I say, scratching my head, as she steps beside me and leans with her back against the edge of the crib the same way I was, only it looks much more desirable. Oh, holy-
"Is that your ring?," she asks all of a sudden, staring fixedly at my hand.
"Uh-huh," I reply, bending over a little towards her so that she could see it better.
"So Frankie was telling the truth," she says, tilting her head so she could get a clearer view, in the process, also brushing her head against my curls, oh dear God, "you did carry it everywhere-"
"I like bringing you with me, even though it's not really you," I reply, and I'm pretty sure she couldn't understand that. And, just when things don't look very good for me, a red hue comes creeping on to my cheeks.
"I'm a ring?," she asks, her own hand touching mine ever so slightly, but I am aware that it is just to pull my hand closer to her face as to see better.
"No, well, it's always been yours," I say, taking her hand with my other one and weaving them together, "I, you know, haven't really done it with anyone else, thank God for that, but, umm, I'd like to think that ever since, you know, you've left a little bit of you with me, just like I gave you a part of me, I hope, and the ring just sort of indicates that, so-"
"So, am I that important to you?," she asks cheekily, smirking.
I give her a quick little glance, and I reply simply, "you are my first for a reason."
I offer her the ring, but as a response, she just looks at it a little hesitantly, asking, "you sure?"
"I've been sure for over a decade," I tell her, pushing it towards her even more, "just take it, you should've had it for the last three years-"
"Now that I think about it, that is a long time-"
"Wait, now that I'm reminded of it," I say, withdrawing my hand for awhile, "why didn't you ever ask for it?"
She shuffles in her feet slightly, and says, "I don't know, I don't think it's really mine, because, well, you are a Grammy winner-"
"Are you saying that you're not good enough?," I ask her, cocking up an eyebrow.
She steals a peek, before blushing as well and saying, "not the same exact wording I was really looking for, but okay-"
I repress the chuckle I know that's going to come out, and tell her, "I tell myself the same thing practically every day."
"But-"
I turn myself slightly to face her, cup her face with one hand as the other snakes its way around her waist, pulling her towards me and leaving her with no space to move, and press a kiss on to her lips, taking in the faint apple flavor from her lip gloss, and rendering her speechless again. I have a habit of doing that. She makes a cute little squeak, and moves her lips against mine, practically making my head explode, before pulling me even closer (sweet baby Jesus), her hands finding their way to my back pockets and sneaking in (thank God I had those sewn in), therefore, pressing me even closer to her, if that was even possible. It doesn't take long before it escalates a little too far, and we almost fall over and instead, she pushes forward and I end up hitting the wall.
I reluctantly pull away, my eyes still closed, and I know that once I open them again, hers will be closed too or fluttering open. Fluttering. I don't let go of my hold on her, and, thankfully, she doesn't either.
"I like apples," I tell her, but I'm still in a dream-like state.
"I knew you would," she replies, smiling contentedly.
"Let go of my ass," I manage to mumble out, even though I don't want her to, and she emits a giggle as a reply and proceeds to remove her hands from my pockets. I brush away the stray wisps of hair from her face, probably moved there from my doing, and I take her left hand, sliding the ring on to her thumb, where, amazingly, just fits right.
"You apparently have big hands," she says, laughing and admiring the trinket on her thumb, leaning against my chest.
"I don't know, I want to think that you just have small hands," I tell her, grabbing hold on one of them, and kissing the fingers lightly. "But I guess that just makes it easier for me to cling to it."
"That sounds like a really bad cliché," she says, letting out a small chuckle.
"I feed on clichés, I'm an artist," I reply, firmly keeping my arm on her waist.
I look down at her face, and I can't really read the expression on her face, but when she catches me staring at her, she drops her head, and lays her head somewhere between my neck and shoulder. She's making this so much harder for me.
"You want to get out of here?," I ask her out of the blue (for her, at least), still staring at her, "come over to my place? I mean, I guess you're staing at my place for now anyway, so-"
"Now?," she asks, caught off guard slightly, "I mean, I sort of just arrived-"
"Didn't stop us the last time," I reply, giving her a smirk.
She smirks at me as a reply, and says, "that was of your doing."
"I know, and I really enjoyed it," I tease her, prodding at her nose. "It's not like we know anyone here. I mean, Stella can just yell at Joe the entire time, so they'll be pre-occupied, and Kevin and Dani are probably doing something wild, my parents are taking care of the kids, and God knows what Frankie's doing, so we might as well just leave."
"Well," she sets her chin on my shoulder, thinking deeply, or at least trying to appear to, "most of the people here are just some stuck-up Hollywood people-"
"Exactly," I say, moving a bit so as to see her better, "and, as we learned, you never really know what you're going to get."
"Well…"
Just freaking say yes. Please. I can't look like an idiot in front of my family now.
"Fine, let's just throw caution to the winds," she says finally, and I feel as though God was giving me a pat on the back.
"Cool," I reply, holding on to her hand, and dragging her out of the nursery and leaving Laurie (wow, almost forgot about her), to sleep.
I hope my plans don't backfire on me now.
LATER ON AT THE APARTMENT
"How do you want yours?," I ask her, my eyes fixed on the frying pan in front of me.
"How are you having it?," she asks, sitting on the countertop of my kitchen just a few feet beside me, wearing my long-sleeved polo with the sleeves rolled up a fair bit, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, and her bare feet dangling in the air as she watches me grab some eggs from the refrigerator. I, on the other hand, am trying to steer my gaze from her to avoid any accidents (I've let the oil splatter all over me three times so far- it was very hot, much to my displeasure), wearing my boxers, and as well as a wife beater she had convinced me to wear, mainly because she was the one who put it on me.
Read between the lines.
"Raw," I answer, shrugging at her and breaking one of the eggs into a glass to let her know I'm serious.
"Oh," she replies, her face falling slightly as I break another egg. "Umm, never was one for anything raw, unless it's sushi or a salad-"
"Scrambled?," I ask her, taking a sip from the glass (more disgusting than I remember it being).
"Is that the only way you know how to do them?," she asks me, bending over slightly to brush away the curls that were covering my face, and in the process, making my skin tingle.
"Pretty much," I reply, taking another gulp, "my sunny side up always ends up being scrambled anyway."
"Okay, whatever you suggest," she answers, her hands on the ledge and leaning forward a tiny bit, snatching one can of Diet Coke from the two I had brought out from the fridge, snapping the top off, and taking a short swig. I had to do everything in my power to look away.
"So," she continues to say, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "I see that you've added some pictures to your collection."
"Yes, I have," I reply, cracking the eggs open into a bowl and whisking them, "I had to put those pictures you sent over somewhere-"
"But you also put up the one where I was kinda drunk," she said, setting down the can beside her, "I sent that over as a joke."
"Who said I didn't know what that was for?," I tell her, taking the Coke she had abandoned, and taking a swift gulp, "that's actually my favorite- wait you actually had time to look at that-"
"I like taking in my surroundings first," she tells me, trying to grab the can back from my hands, but to no avail, "but then again, you haven't really changed the place that much."
"What's to change?," I ask her, avoiding her fingers as they threaten to poke my side, "you liked it so much the last time-"
"Yeah good to know," she says, attempting to grab her drink, but just go ahead and take another sip. "Why do you have to drink from mine?"
"This was yours?," I ask her, raising the can, "no wonder it tasted so sweet-"
"Then give it back, that's not good for you-"
"You can have mine," I tell her, sipping again, pushing to her the unopened soda.
"But I already drank from it," she said, clinging on to my wrist.
"Exactly the point," I say, before taking another sip, and then, just because I want her to feel the same way I do whenever she does this, I lick my lips, barely tasting the apple that she had re-applied on her lips a little while ago as well as the Coke, and I wipe away the bit of extra with my finger, and I use the same finger to touch the skin on the corner of her mouth.
She tingles a tiny bit.
Mission accomplished.
"Okay," she said, a little dazed, "umm, uhh…"
"What were you saying?," I ask her, stepping in front of her and placing my hands on the surface on either side of her, trapping her.
"Umm," she tries to begin, visibly distracted, but I bet that was because I was in such close proximity, "uhh, eggs-"
"You're kidding me," I say, craning my neck a little so I can see her better.
"I'm hungry," she replies with a shrug, bending a little so the space between us grew smaller.
Fine. Mission unaccomplished.
"Scrambled it is," I say, moving away and going back to mixing the eggs, then pouring it into the pan.
"No salt?," she asks, observing me as I prod at the mixture with a wooden spoon.
"Go throw in some," I tell her, pointing to the container on the shelf beside her. She grabs it, digs inside and sprinkles some in, and to probably get back on me, she pecks my cheek quickly before pulling back. Oh, dear God.
"Can I get some?," she asks, leaning in towards me and looking down at the pale yellow mass.
"Uh-huh," I reply, opening the drawer below me and pulling out a fork for her to use.
"Thanks," she says, taking the fork and scooping some of the egg straight from the pan, placing it in her mouth.
"Okay?," I ask her, watching her chew lightly.
"Here," she says, scraping some more unto the fork and offering me some. I raise my eyebrow, smirking a little, and she just giggles and just pushes the egg into my mouth.
"It will do," I answer, swallowing, and she just laughs again before taking another bite. She must be hungry after all.
"Oh," I say suddenly once I see her fingering the ring I had placed on her thumb. I forgot again, dammit.
"What?," she says, wiping her mouth again with the back of her hand.
"I need to give you something," I say, turning off the fire then leaving her there briefly as I went to my bedroom.
"What are you looking for?," she calls out as I rummage through the hidden drawer underneath my mattress (had that made because Joe and Frankie sneak in sometimes to look through my stuff).
"Just wait a bit," I say, lifting a few platinum record plaques (Frankie toyed with the first one I got- I never found it again), taking something out and putting it in my pocket. God help me now.
"Okay," I say, running back into the kitchen with my heart speeding up considerably. Now or never, Lucas.
"Well, what are you going to give me?," she asks, already having eaten a little less than half of the pan as she finishes off the last of the Diet Coke I had left behind.
"Well, uhh, how do I do this," I drift off, stepping in front of her again and placing my hands on her knees, obliging her to face towards me.
"Just spit it out," she says, sweeping the hair from my forehead again, wiping the little beads of sweat that were forming there with her knuckles. "I mean, this is just the margarita lip gloss you told me you found a while back, right?"
"What? No, Frankie stole that a long time ago," I say, shaking my head and causing her to stop.
"Oh," she replies her face falling slightly, "was kinda looking forward to that-"
"Look," I say, straightening up so that my face is more at level with hers, quieting her. "I need to ask you something."
"Okay, shoot," she says, mopping my head again with her hand, "you don't need to be nervous."
Oh, yes. Yes I do.
"You're not exactly in my position," I whisper, but I shake my head again, taking hold of her hands and kissing them. I can't help but notice how soft and dainty they are.
"Nick? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I reply, but my insides aren't really very cooperative at the moment, "umm, ten years, four months, three weeks and two days. That's a long time."
"Sounds like it," she says, giggling calmly, but she gets quiet again when I don't say anything, "what about it?"
"That's how long I've been in love with the same girl. Do you happen to know her?," I ask, fiddling with the ring and twisting it around her thumb.
"I do, very well," she said, grinning at me, but then, the grin is wiped clean from her face a second later, "you are talking about me, right?"
"Yeah," I answer, laughing at her, and I reach my hand up to cup her face, touching her earlobe lightly. "But when I thought about it, eight of those ten years were spent away from you."
"I'm aware," she said, with a half-hearted shrug and a sad smile as she holds on to my hand on her face.
"I have to say, it was really hard to stay in love with you, because I convinced myself that you were the one, but I wasn't so sure that you had felt the same," I tell her, the other hand gripping her knee tightly.
"Nick-"
"Let me finish," I cut her off, "but you know what was even harder?"
She opens her mouth slightly, but nothing comes out.
"Trying to not stay in love with you," I answer my own question, running my finger across her lip, "I tried, you know I did, but it didn't work."
"Thank God it didn't," she says, a smile playing on her lips as she pinches my cheek. "So, what is this all about then?"
"Well, I want to be like Kevin, and, God help me, Joe," I say, the fact that I'm actually doing this finally really dawning upon me.
"What? You want to be Iron Man-"
"No," I shake my head vigorously, "nor Horatio Caine, the man annoys me, I mean, oh dear God-"
"Nick? What are you trying to say?"
I let out a sigh, something that I've been holding back for a while, and I deep my head down to rest on the spot between her neck and her shoulder; I just want to get this over with. "Mace, I get that you're living your dream, and I am unbelievably happy for you, but you're kind of never here-"
"Oh, I get it," she says, her face falling, and a few seconds later, her eyes get glazed over with a sort of twinkle I'm not very fond of.
"No, you don't get it," I say, trying to explain myself more clearly, "I know that your job kind of requires it, and I get that completely. It's something my job requires too, and you've accepted it from the beginning. You have no idea how thankful I am for that-"
"I think I do" she said, nodding her head slightly.
"Yeah, but I don't think I'll ever get used to it the way you have-"
"Nick, it's not all that easy-"
"I know," I say, bringing my head up to nudge my nose against hers, "but I try. And I've gone this far, haven't I?"
"Yeah," she replies, smiling.
"But, the thing is, I always seem to have that doubt that you're not going to come back-"
"What? Why wouldn't I-"
"I know," I say, ashamed at my own thoughts of doubt, "but now, I really want to give you a reason to stay, and if that can't happen, because I know you're very much in demand, a reason for you to come back."
"You don't think you're a reason enough?," she asks, her hands finding their way to my face.
"I don't know," I say, gulping down nervously, and then taking out the small blue box, tied with a white ribbon from my pocket, "but I want to be."
"Oh, my," she mumbles, her eyes fixed on the Tiffany box.
"I want to know if you consider me as the one," I say, stepping away long enough to untie the ribbon, then opening the package, revealing a simple ring, with a simple silver band surrounding a single diamond. She had always been one more for simplicity, and the ring just described her perfectly. "I know this is a little rushed, but I waited how long for this. I just never really considered anyone else. I've always pictured it being you."
"Nick, I-"
"Choose me. I'm begging you."
She stays deathly quiet for a few minutes, her stare switching from me to the ring, her chest heaving up and down in apprehension.
"Macy-"
"Oh my fucking God!," she says (more like screams) finally, completely out of the blue, her eyes considerably very large, and her hands jumping to her face, covering her probably open mouth. "Holy shit- oh my God, you're really fucking kidding me….."
"Okay, I thought Stella was kidding when she said you usually react this way, but okay," I say, fully taken aback, the box still held out.
"This isn't exactly small news, Nick," she shrieks angrily at me, shaking her head.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I tell her sincerely, one hand trying to pry hers from her face, "I just thought you would say yes-"
"What in God's name were you thinking?," she says heatedly, one hand reluctantly joining mine, "I was gonna say yes, jeez-"
"Really?," I ask, not really believing my ears, "yeah?"
"Yeah," she said, laughing a little, and then I realize she's coming back to her normal state (that was quicker than what Stella said she would), "I mean, yeah, I do, I really, really want to get married. To you. You are asking me to marry you, right?"
I don't get to answer her.
I end up just shutting her up with another kiss.
Didn't really like the engagement part. Oh, well, at least it's over and done with. Thanks for sticking with it. Had an immensely good time doing it, and thanks for being nice to me since it is my first story.
Review.