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Chapter Twenty-Five


When I got home from shopping with Nick, I tried calling Addison. I knew she'd want to hear all about the trip and the dress and probably even want to come over and see it. But she didn't answer her phone, so I left a message telling her it was important and to call me when she got a chance. I waited, listening to a CD and cleaning the house. When she finally called me back it was to say that they'd signed a contract and she was already in the studio learning a new song and singing back-up vocals for Cora. "I'll call you back later, okay?" she said, excited, "I have so much to tell you about!" And before I could even reply, she'd already hung up.

I laid on the couch waiting for her to call back. I read a book and made a couple more plans for Nick's big party, and I remember seeing midnight come and go before I fell asleep... but Addison hadn't called.

When the phone did ring, it wasn't Addie -- it was Nick. And it was two-fifteen in the morning. I squinted at the time on my phone before answering. "Hmm?" I hummed into the phone, barely awake.

"Sam?" Nick's voice was tight.

"Hmm?"

"I know it's late... but..." he paused.

"You already have condoms," I mumbled into the phone.

He didn't laugh. "I just... need to talk."

This roused me. "To talk?" I asked. I struggled to sit up. The couch tried to resist letting me.

"Yeah."

I suddenly realized Nick's voice wasn't just tight - it was pinched. It was sad. It was broken. My heart raced. "What's wrong?" I asked.

He sniffed... a whimper escaped him.

"I'm on my way," I said.

"No, no," he choked, "No, I'll come to you. I gotta get outta this... this fucking house..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be there in ten." He hung up.

I got up and paced the room, sick to my stomach, my nerve endings firing off so that my skin tingled. My adrenaline had officially kicked in and I was awake like it was midday. I kept peering out the window, waiting to see his headlights cut the night. It seemed to take forever - and this worried me even more because I knew how he drove - but finally the Escalade pulled up out front and he texted me. I'm here, come out, I wanna ride.

I grabbed my purse and my keys and locked my door and ran across the driveway to the Escalade. I leaped in and pulled my seatbelt across my chest. Nick was sitting stiffly in the driver's seat, his arms out in front of him, clutching the wheel with tightly balled fists. He barely even glanced over as I got in the car, and I hadn't even finished clicking in my buckle when his foot jabbed the gas and the Escalade shot away from the curb.

I assumed my usual position of clutching the arm rest.

"What's the matter?" I asked him.

"I just needed to get out," he answered, his voice wobbled.

The headlights cut through the night, scenery flying by. Nick flicked his blinker on and we turned down a side road. A cat only just got out of the street in time. Within moments we were on the interstate headed northwest toward the coast. I stared at him, trying to ignore the fact that the spedometer was reading over 80 miles per hour and climbing, and I realized that he was trying desperately not to cry.

"What happened?" I asked.

He took a deep breath as he merged from one interstate to the next. I was amazed that we hadn't been pulled over. It was just a matter of time, I thought, as the Escalade shot down the road. Nick exhaled shakily. "I called Cora, reminded her of her purse being at my place. I wanted to see her... I wanted to - to talk to her, about... about what you said today."

We were coming up behind another car. Not only caught up but passed it in a matter of moments, the headlights fading in the dark behind us.

"And?" I asked.

Nick's voice was strangled, "She doesn't want to see me," he said. "She thinks we need to take a break."

"A break?"

"Yeah," he said, "She thinks --" he shook his head. "Fucking hell, Sam, why the fuck doesn't anyone love me?" And there they were - the tears. Big, fat, wet things that travelled across his cheeks and curved over the line of his jaw.

"Nick..."

The spedometer broke 100mph.

"Nick, you need to pull over." He punched the wheel with his palm as he choked out a sob, his face crumpled. I glanced between him and the road. "Please, Nick. Pull over."

He did. Thankfully. He slowed down and pulled the wheel shockingly sharply so that we crossed all four lines to the shoulder and the tires screeched to a stop. He threw the Escalade into park and cars rushed by us with shwwoops of sound. He covered his face with his palms.

"Sweetie..." I undid my buckle and turned in my seat, leaning over across the center console... my intention had been to hug him, but before I could even touch him, he shot from me like shrapnel, got out of the car and slammed the door. He walked around the nose of the Escalade and over to the guard rail, where he leaned over and heaved. "Oh man," I sighed, pushing my door open to join him on the side of the road where he was throwing up.

I walked over and rubbed his back as he leaned over the guard rail, spit falling away from his mouth like the loose strands of a spider web in the wind. His eyes were closed and he was panting. I felt like punching the crap out of Cora for hurting him like this, for putting him through hell. I ran my hand down his spine. "Nick," I whispered, "Anyone that would hurt you this badly...isn't worth being hurt this badly over."

"You don't know what you're saying," he choked. "You don't know her."

"Maybe you don't know her," I said.

It sounded worse than I'd meant it to sound.

Nick stood upright. "Maybe she's right about you!" he yelled, smacking my hand away from his back. "Maybe she's right, maybe you are after me. Maybe it's not a joke." His voice climbed, "She thinks I'm fucking you behind her back, you know that? That's what she said. I told her I'm not, I told her that you don't mean anything to me, but she doesn't believe me. She wanted me to fire you! And maybe I should! Maybe I should if you're gonna stand here and judge me for loving her when you don't even know her and how incredible she is."

"Maybe you should!" I shouted.

Nick stared at me, glowered at me even. He turned away. "Fuck!" he screamed out into the dark. "Fuck!"

"Stop screaming," I yelled, "The world isn't gonna get any better just because you cussed it out. Only you can make shit better. And don't you dare tell me that I don't mean anything to you because that's bullshit! If I didn't mean anything to you, you wouldn't have called me just now to talk to you about all this!"

He turned on his heels and glared at me, "You don't mean anything to me! You were a fucking housemaid in a hotel that knew too much, that's all you were. You're a glorified slave."

"Fuck you!" I yelled. "You and your cocky attitude!"

"I've earned being cocky!" he shouted. "I've worked harder than hell to be where I am."

"That doesn't mean you have to be a prick!" I said.

"If I'm such a prick then why do you like me?"

"I'm asking myself that right this instant!!!!" I screamed.

We stared at each other, both of us trying to outlast the other. Cars continued to fly by, his chest heaved as he panted still, my fists were balled. Our eyes bore holes into each other. It was the longest stare down I've ever been a part of... and the most intense moment of my life.

That is, until the one that followed it.

Suddenly, Nick swept forward and his mouth was on mine and he pressed me against the hood of the still-running Escalade, his hands slid across my backside, pulled me closer to him so that our bodies were smeared against eachother so tightly I could almost feel his heart beating in my chest. Headlights streamed by fluidly as Nick's hand slid up my spine, supporting my back. I melted against him, bending where he bent like butter being pressed by a hot spoon.

When he broke the kiss, my head was aimed upward, toward the stars that peeked out over the tree tops in the thick velvet night sky. He stood there and stared at me and breathed loudly. I stared back, my heart racing from my throat it seemed.

"Well shit," he whispered, voice shaking, and he walked around the Escalade and got back in the driver's side without another word.