Page 5 of Nico (Members From Money Season 2, #154)
"With my brilliant mind? Absolutely." He turned her to face him. Using his thumb, he wiped away the evidence of ice cream from her bottom lip. The cloud had turned from a light gray to an ominous steel gray, an indication that they were in for some rain.
Tilting her chin up, he kissed her lingeringly, sending fire surging throughout her body.
"How about we continue this back at your place?" he asked huskily, lifting his head.
"Why don't we?"
*****
After a very robust bout of lovemaking, the last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with her mother. But it was required. Sylvia Greene had reverted to her first married name as was her pattern over the years. Now she was in the middle of a divorce, she was back to being Mrs. Greene.
Sadie had long since stopped being surprised at anything her mother did and had learned to dread the conversation with her. But if she did not call every Sunday, there would be no end to the complaints and long-suffering comments.
She took the phone call into the sitting area and left Nico sprawled on the bed half asleep. Somehow she did not want to taint their time together with a call from her mother.
"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me." The cultured voice was tinged with ice and Sadie could imagine the sulk on her mother's face.
"I was about to call when you did." Lowering herself into the butter soft ruby red sofa, she lied without a qualm.
"That's a likely story. I suppose working at that homosexual's gallery gives you no time for anything else."
Determined to keep the peace, even if it killed her, Sadie did her breathing technique, which usually worked. "His name is Andre."
A sniff was her only response to that. "It also gives you no time to find a suitable man. You're thirty-two years old and time is running out for you to find someone. Goodness Sadie, are you waiting until you turn forty?"
She almost blurted out that she was in a relationship with Nico Coulter but managed to contain the news.
"I think you've tied the knot enough for both of us." She had not meant to say that, but the breathing technique had hit its top level.
"I knew you would throw that in my face." The tone this time was that of an injured party and designed to make her feel guilty. "You blame me for your father's death."
The unfairness of it had her rising and pacing, clearly agitated. "How can you say that?"
"I explained to you how lonely I was, but did that make a difference? Oh no. You're determined to paint me as the bad person here. You have no sympathy for my plight. None whatsoever."
"What plight?" She sliced her hand through the air in anger. "Mother, you barely grieved for a year and before I had time to adjust to losing dad, you were bringing a stranger into our home. How did you expect me to react?"
"I expected my only child to be understanding and give me the support I needed."
Sadie sank down in the sofa and only just noticed that Nico had quietly entered the room. She wanted to tell him to leave but knew he would not listen. With his own silent support, he crossed to her and sat on the arm of the sofa, his hand wrapping around her shoulders.
It quieted her heart and dissolved her anger, enough to have her listening to her mother drone on and on about her life and how difficult it was for her. When she was finished, Sadie said a firm goodbye and hung up the phone.
"I want to just sit here and be silent for a minute or two."
"I'll agree to that, on one condition."
"No..."
"That I get to do this." Sliding down, he plucked her up and placed her on top of him. And did the sweetest thing that had her throat clogging. He just pressed her head against his shoulder and held her.
"Oh." Sighing, she wrapped her hands around his waist and held on. "This is nice."
"You wanted quiet." He reminded her.
"Hmm." She snuggled, something she had never done before, and inhaled his scent. "You smell good."
"You stock some very flavorful body gel."
"The best. I like it on you."
"Are we still going for quiet?"
"Yep. In a minute."
They sat that way for ten minutes before he took her up and went into the bedroom.
*****
In Georgia, inside a very elegant living room, a couple was having an argument.
"You never told this man that he had a child.
" Julian Thorpe the second pointed out. "You've carried this burden of taking care of the child on your own.
It's time for him to stand up to his responsibilities.
" He flicked a hand at the child and barely looked at the adorable toddler with her curly blonde hair and bottle green eyes who was at the moment asleep in the swing.
"I already told you that I don't want a child my dear, especially one that belongs to another man.
We'll be moving to Italy to live there. You have to make a choice. "
"I'm afraid of what they'll say." Brigette wasn't wringing her hands, but she was close to doing so.
Julian's expression was resolute, eyes hard as marble. "You can't hide from this, Brigette. Secrets have a way of coming out, especially ones with eyes just like his." He gestured, not unkindly, toward the sleeping child. "You have to decide if you want a life built on truth, or on running away."
Brigette's shoulders drooped, the silk of her blouse crumpling beneath the weight of her turmoil.
"I never wanted..." Her voice trembled, but she caught herself, gaze darting to the small, peaceful figure in the swing.
"It isn't that simple, Julian. Telling him could ruin everything.
And what if he... what if he doesn't want her? "
"Then at least you'll know. At least she'll know." Julian's voice softened, the edge of anger yielding to something like compassion. "But I can't ask you to come with me to Italy while your heart is still here. Or with her." His words hung between them, fragile as spun glass.
Brigette stared at the window, the Georgia sun slanting gold across the room. "I need time," she whispered.
"You have until the end of the week," Julian replied, his tone final but not without regret. He crossed the room, pausing only once to look at the child, then walked out, the door closing silently behind him.
Brigette knelt by the swing, brushing a wisp of hair from her daughter's forehead. The little girl murmured in her sleep, oblivious.
"I promise, sweetheart," Brigette whispered, voice thick with tears, "I'll make the right choice. For both of us."
In the hush of the elegant room, as dusk crept in, only the rhythmic sway of the swing and the soft exhale of the sleeping child remained.
*****
Unaware that his life was about to be turned upside down, Nico cradled the woman in his arms and felt washed with emotions that threatened to overwhelm.
The lovemaking had taken on a gentle tone.
He had gone slow, somehow realizing that she needed slow and gentle.
After the conversation with her mother, he had seen the look of defeat on her spectacular face.
He could not help the thought that flitted through his mind of finding the woman and giving her a piece of his mind for putting her through this.
He had done the next best thing by trying to rid her of the pain the argument had caused and make her think of something else.
He believed he had accomplished that much.
But as the silence lengthened between them, Nico traced patterns across her bare shoulder, his mind already miles away from the soft cocoon of the bed.
He wondered at the mysteries swirling behind her shuttered eyes, the things unsaid, always unsaid, that haunted her silences more than any confession might.
He wanted to ask, to press his lips to her brow and coax the truth from her, ask her about her feelings, what she wanted from him, but kept quiet.
He did not want her revisiting the argument.
He believed she had been through enough.
He wanted to tell her that he was here to share her fears and disappointments and be a sounding board if she truly needed one.
Statements like those would have to wait for an opportune time.
He was still examining his own feelings, a myriad of complex ones that left him feeling slightly shattered and confused.
Having never felt this way before, he had a lot of thinking to do and she hadn't given him any promises or commitment.
He would have to bide his time and take it slow.
He had to give her that. After hearing the conversation between her and her mother, he knew there was hurt and pain there.
Which would account for the fact that she was commitment shy.
The room was dim, curtains pulled against the tangerine dusk, and still he could see the faint shimmer of tears she fought to hide. In that quiet, Nico realized he was standing at the edge of something vast and uncertain, a precipice where love and fear collided.
So, he would give them both time. He supposed they needed it. In the meantime, he would continue to shower her with attention, making her know that she could talk to him about anything. He wanted to cement the fact that he was here and always would be.
He pulled her closer, the only answer he had left, anchoring her to him when words could do no good. In the hush that followed, only the slow, steady heartbeat beneath his palm tethered him to hope, the hope that, whatever truth dawned come morning, they might face it together.