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Part III:
Without You, Within Me


Without you within me
I can’t find no rest
Where I’m going
Is anybody’s guess

I’ve tried to go on like I never knew you
I’m awake, but my world is half asleep
I pray for this heart to be unbroken
Cause without you all I’m going to be is
Incomplete

- “Incomplete” by the Backstreet Boys


Chapter 101

The Fourth of July fell on a hot and sunny Tuesday, and for Nick, the day marked two occasions, two causes for celebration. First, it was, of course, Independence Day, a day for Americans to dress in red, white, and blue, listen to patriotic music, barbeque with their family and friends, and “ooh” and “ahh” over fireworks displays in the night sky. Nick was not so keen on donning the Uncle Sam look, but he was doing the barbeque thing – hosting it, in fact.

It would be his first official shindig at his new house in LA… the first get-together he’d hosted in a long time, actually. Usually Brian or Kevin held the barbeques at their houses because they had wives to help organize such events. Nick was not doing it alone though; he’d enlisted the help of Veronica. Even though the party wasn’t going to be anything big – just the guys and their significant others and Baylee – he wanted to make sure it went well. He had hired a catering company to bring in the food, and Veronica had helped him shop for patriotic decorations. She had also promised to come over early, to add her woman’s touch to the set-up, for which he was grateful.

He checked his watch; it was going on three. She should be here any minute, he thought.

Veronica… They’d been seeing each other more and more often these last two months, and now they were exclusively, officially a couple. Still, they were taking things slow. They had both come out of difficult breakups from serious relationships and weren’t rushing to get too serious with each other yet. They’d spent the time getting to know one another and slowly becoming more intimate together, though they had yet to go all the way.

There was a certain shyness, a hesitancy about Veronica that, in a way, Nick appreciated, for a part of him was shy around her too. She was the first woman he had gotten close to since Claire, and being with her often made him think of the early days in his and Claire’s relationship, when his insecurity about his missing leg had kept them from being intimate. It was not nearly as bad with Veronica, for being with Claire had done wonders to boost his confidence, but still, when they were making out, sometimes he wondered, how would she react, when the time came to go further?

The leg issue really hadn’t come up much yet in their brief relationship. Veronica knew, of course, and she had, on occasion, politely questioned him about it. Was his prosthetic leg uncomfortable to wear? Did it hurt to walk on it? Had it been hard learning to get around again? He’d tried to be very open with her, and, in a way, it had helped.

There had been a night, shortly after their first kiss, when it seemed they had talked about everything, including things that were normally very hard to talk about. He’d learned that her father had died just two years earlier, from complications of diabetes. The experience had given her a certain empathy for what he had been through, a level of understanding of illness and the trials and emotions that accompanied it. It was the sort of understanding he’d always shared with the guys, who had all seen their share of serious illness, not just through his cancer, but from their own experiences – Brian’s heart condition, Kevin’s father, Howie’s sister, AJ’s grandmother, not to mention the countless sick children they had visited in the hospital or met through Make-a-Wish. Nick felt they’d all had an easier time dealing with the realities of his own illness because of these experiences, and with Veronica, it was much the same. She wasn’t Claire… but he’d found that he could talk to her, open up to her, and be honest with her. It was a valuable feature of their relationship, and Nick felt that, even if he and Veronica did not last as a couple (and it was much too soon to tell), he would always have a friend in her.

The doorbell rang, jarring Nick out of his thoughts, and he practically jumped up. That must be her, he thought, going to the door. Sure enough, when he put his eye to the peephole, he looked down and saw her face, distorted by the convex glass. He quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open to see her in full view, standing on the front stoop.

“Hey,” she greeted him, smiling coyly as he beckoned her in.

“Heeello,” he purred in response, giving her a hug and quick peck on the cheek. “Mm, you smell nice,” he added, smiling as he released her. Veronica always smelled nice, always of the same enticing scent, which he now knew to be called freesia.

“Bath and Body Works’ Freesia,” she’d told him once, when, while nuzzling her neck, he’d asked what she wore. “Forget the fancy perfume; let me tell you, Nick, it’s the best.”

Nick couldn’t say he disagreed. He never got tired of smelling it on her. The unique flowery scent was sweet and feminine, one of the things he liked about Veronica. She was very feminine… not a total “girlie girl,” but a far cry from a tomboy. She always dressed nicely, whether it be in crisp jeans and a blouse or in skirts and dresses, which she wore often. Today, for example, she had on a red top with a plunging neckline, a floaty white cotton skirt, and a dainty pair of white sandals.

Her dark hair was long and thick, and he loved to run his fingers through it, getting them practically lost in its rich depths. He had always had a thing for long hair, as most guys he knew did. She had it tied back in a loose ponytail today, as she often did, but he imagined himself taking it down for her later, playing with it to distract himself from whatever romantic comedy she wanted to watch.

She was very much a girl in her movie choices, much to his displeasure; the times he’d let her choose movies, they always ended up watching something with Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan, Reese Witherspoon or Jennifer Aniston. They made him want to gag, but he tried to grin and bear it, knowing he could get back at her later with Stalone and Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis and Vin Diesel.

Tonight, though, he realized, he wouldn’t be subjected to any of her chick flicks, for after the fireworks show that evening, they’d be headed downtown to one of LA’s most elite clubs for a party in the Backstreet Boys’ honor. Not only was that Tuesday the Fourth of July; it was also the day the first single off their new album was being released, and tonight was the release party. It was really just a big publicity stunt, put on by Jive; a bunch of other celebrities were supposed to be in attendance, along with representatives from the record company, the Boys’ management, and, of course, the Boys themselves. They’d perform the new song, and the music video they’d shot at the end of May would debut on a large screen for everyone to watch; then they’d all drink and mingle and pose for the camera like at any Hollywood party. Nick was more excited about the single than the party for it, but he was going, of course (there was no way he could get out of it, even if he wanted to), and he was bringing Veronica with him. It would be her first big celebrity event, and he could tell she was already anxious about it, even though it was a good ten hours away.

There was an air of nervousness about her as she walked into the house, and he made sure to tell her that she looked nice.

“Thanks,” she said rather shyly, brushing her hands over the front of her skirt to smooth it out. Glancing back up at him, she smiled and returned, “You look great too.”

He shrugged, looking down at his powder blue polo shirt and baggy khaki shorts. How very preppy he felt today, dressed as he was and getting ready to host a barbeque.
“Well, thank you too,” he replied with a chuckle.

“I brought a different outfit for tonight,” she mentioned, as they wandered through the house and out onto the sprawling deck in the back. “A dress; it’s dark red. Can I show you later? I want to make sure it’s okay.”

Nick offered her a reassuring smile to counter her uncertainty and replied, “Sure, if you want, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re walking the red carpet; it’s just a club.”

“I know, but I… I’ve never been to one of these things before. Heck, I don’t even go to clubs all that often. I just want to look right… especially since I’ll be there with you. People will be judging me…”

One thing he’d noticed about her was that she was seemed very insecure with herself a lot of the time. Her apparent self-esteem issues were something he could relate to now, more than he ever had before cancer had ruined his own self-image, but still, he wondered, why did she doubt herself? She wasn’t supermodel gorgeous – she was much too short, for one, and too curvy as well. And sure, her features weren’t perfect; she, like everyone else, had her flaws. No, like Claire, she wasn’t stunningly beautiful in the traditional sense, but he found her attractive, both inside and out.

He just wished she would be more confident in herself. Confidence was beauty, in his mind; he’d always found a woman who carried herself with poise and self-assurance more attractive than she might have otherwise been. That had been one of the traits he’d always admired in Claire; she was comfortable with herself. For a long time, he’d wished he could learn to be just as comfortable in his own skin, altered as it had been by the effects of his cancer. He was still learning, but he had come a long way. He wondered if he could instill some of that self-confidence in Veronica, the way Claire had for him.

“Welcome to Hollywood,” he replied to her with a rueful grin. “Everyone gets judged.” Okay, not the best way to boost her confidence. Try again, Carter. “But, look, it’s not like there’s gonna be a whole bunch of paparazzi and fans at this thing. There will be some entertainment reporters and photographers and stuff, but there will be so many celebrities there, they’re not gonna focus on you too much. And the other famous people coming… they’re cool. They know how it is, and they’re in no place to judge you. So don’t worry about it, alright?”

Veronica gave him a close-lipped smile and nodded, still looking slightly petrified. Oh well, maybe the barbeque would help take her mind off of the party that night.

Sure enough, once Veronica had spotted the decorations they’d bought together, she started putting them up immediately, weaving red, white, and blue streamers through the deck railings, hanging paper lanterns, and tucking miniature American flags here and there.

Leaving that stuff to her, Nick found the cheap star-spangled beach ball they’d gotten for the pool and took it out of its packaging. Carrying the deflated piece of plastic over to a chair, he sat down and turned it over in his hands until he found the hole through which to pump air into it. Putting his mouth tightly around the flexible plastic, he blew a gust of air into the ball. Inflating it proved to be slow work for him; ever since he’d had half of his lung removed, to get rid of the tumor growing inside it, he just didn’t have the wind he used to. He had to stop and plug the hole with his finger while he took in a breath more often than most men his size would, but eventually, the ball was filled with air. He plugged the hole up, shoving the plastic part down into the ball, and spiked the ball into the pool.

“Perfect,” said Veronica, watching the ball whiz past her, and turned to smile at him. Looking him, he saw that she’d already finished decorating.

“Perfect,” he agreed, smiling back. Then he got up; the caterers would be arriving any minute.

***

Claire dug her fork into the delicious-looking piece of pie sitting on her plate and raised it to her lips, taking an eager bite. She savored the taste of strawberry as she chewed slowly and swallowed. “Mmm, this is really good,” she said, turning to Jamie. “You should go get some.”

“I will later. I think they’re gonna get a volleyball game going soon,” he replied, pointing to the volleyball net that had been set up on side of the large yard. A few children were running back and forth under the net, kicking the volleyball as if it were a soccer ball.

She and Jamie had been invited to a Fourth of July party hosted by a colleague of Jamie’s at the insurance firm where he worked, an insurance salesman named Bill MacLeod. Bill was a funny-looking man, tall and gangling, with a head and beard of dark, shockingly red hair and a freckled face that made him look too young to be selling anything but boy scout popcorn, though Jamie had sworn he was close to thirty. Claire had liked him instantly. He had a warm handshake and a casual, friendly demeanor, and within five minutes of meeting him, she’d been able to see why people would feel comfortable buying insurance from him. He didn’t have the typical slimy salesman vibe to him at all.

Bill lived in a beautiful home with his partner Lance, who worked as a meteorologist. Claire had recognized him instantly when they’d been introduced; Lance, with his highlighted blonde hair, perfectly-sculpted eyebrows, and slightly-effeminate face, gave the weather report on Channel 8’s eleven o’clock news. The couple’s property was located in a residential area on the outskirts of a golf course, and the backyard had a perfect view of the lake on the course, over which fireworks would be shot off when the sun set that night.

But right now, the sun was still high in the sky, and sure enough, Claire was not even halfway through her pie when Bill came over and said, “Hey, guys, just wanted to let you know, we’re gonna start a volleyball tourney in a few. Can I count you two in?”

“You can count me in,” Jamie said instantly.

Claire chimed in, “Me too.”

Jamie immediately gave her a funny look, but waited until Bill had said “Great!” and moved on to the next cluster of people to say anything.

“You sure you should be playing volleyball? It’s really hot out; I don’t want you to… you know… get overheated or anything.”

Claire narrowed her eyes at Jamie, knowing exactly what he really meant. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack and die in the middle of the volleyball court” – that was what he really meant.

He’d become very overprotective of her in the last two months, ever since she’d blacked out at kickboxing class. She kept telling him she was okay, and she was – there had been no more incidents since she’d gotten out of the hospital, and her follow-up appointment with Dr. Nnachetta a couple of weeks later had gone fine. There was no need for medication, the cardiologist had told her; all she needed to do was take care of herself and be aware of how her body was acting. Dr. Nnachetta had shown her how to measure her own heart rate and told her to make sure it stayed below 140 beats per minute when she was exercising. Claire had been diligent and cautious at first, but by now, she was a lot more confident about what she could and could not do. She and Amber had quit the kickboxing class and were now walking together every morning and taking yoga on the weekends instead.

Jamie never seemed to worry about her as long as she was with Amber, but whenever she was with him, he treated her as if she were nine months pregnant or something. “You sure you should be lifting that? Let me get it,” he’d say every time she tried to carry something, even if it wasn’t that heavy – sometimes she was surprised he let her carry her own purse. Or “I dunno if you should be doing that. Let’s just catch a movie or something,” he’d suggest when she wanted to go rollerblading or play racquetball at the park.

It had started pissing her off weeks ago, but even when she snapped at him, he didn’t seem to get the hint. He just kept doing it. This time would probably be no different, though she had to try. She hated being treated like an invalid by anyone, especially her friends… or boyfriend, in Jamie’s case. But whenever she ranted about it, to Jamie or anyone else, she got that look… that look of pity, that look that said, “But Claire, you had cancer; of course we’re going to be concerned about you. We care, that’s all.” She knew they cared and couldn’t help but be concerned about her, but couldn’t they understand that she didn’t want to be pitied? That it just made her feel inferior when they acted like she shouldn’t be doing something because of the health problems she’d had?

The problem was, they didn’t. They couldn’t. Her family and her friends… they’d watched her go through medical hell, but they hadn’t been through it themselves, and they didn’t know how she felt. She’d tried to tell them, but when it came down to it, they just couldn’t relate, couldn’t fully understand her perspective. The only one she knew who really could was Nick. He understood better than anyone what it felt like to be treated like an invalid, to be told he couldn’t do something because of his physical state, and many times over the last two months, she’d fought the urge to call him and vent. If she’d been dealing with anyone but Jamie, she would have, but because it was Jamie, she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t call her ex-fiancée and rant about her current boyfriend. It would just be too weird and not at all fair to Nick. He didn’t want to hear about that. So she’d left him out of it and tried just getting it through to Jamie, which was the best thing she could do anyway.

“I’ll be fine,” she told him now, her voice sharp, but low; she didn’t want to attract attention to them. “If I get overheated, I’ll go sit down – simple as that. I know my limits.” He gave her a skeptical look, which she responded to with a sigh of exasperation. “Jamie, look. You have got to stop doing this!” she hissed. “You’re treating me like I’m a sickly little kid, and it’s pissing me off! I’m twenty-six, same as you, and I think I’m mature enough to take care of my own body. I’ve been dealing with my health issues for the last six years – give me some credit!”

Jamie blinked and then put his hand on her arm, patting it in a reassuring way, again, as if she were a small child. “I know,” he said in a low, soothing voice. “I just worry about you, Clairie. I never want to see you in the hospital again.”

Claire jerked her arm away from him and gave him a severe look. “Well, if you don’t back off, you’re going to – when I come to visit you after my foot goes up your ass! What do you think that does for the ol’ ticker, smacking your overprotective boyfriend around?”

There was a momentary flash of shock in Jamie’s blue eyes, and then he smirked. “Okay, okay… point taken,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “I won’t baby you… baby.” He winked, and she tried not to smile.

“Thank you,” she replied civilly. “Trust me, I get enough of that shit from my parents. I seriously can’t take it from you too. I’m not stupid, Jamie, and believe me when I say I never want to see the inside of a hospital again either. A little volleyball isn’t gonna kill me.”

He nodded and didn’t protest when she finished her pie and got up to follow him over to the makeshift volleyball court, where two large teams were forming. Leaning in close to Claire, Jamie whispered, “I say we join Bill’s team. He’s got Logan from legal, and that guy’s a freakin’ giant.” He pointed out a tall, athletic-looking hulk of a guy and immediately gravitated toward him. Meanwhile, Claire slipped away to the other side of the net, where the second team was milling around, waiting to get started.

“Hey, are you James Turner’s girlfriend?” a brunette woman Claire didn’t know asked, coming up to her.

Claire smiled, amused at the fact that Jamie went by his given name at work. James – it sounded so formal and… adult. Even after she’d just gotten done ranting to Jamie that they were both grown up, she sometimes marveled over the fact that they really were. A part of her would always view Jamie as the same sweet, fun, endearing kid she’d fallen for in high school.

“Yeah, I am. Claire Ryan,” she introduced herself, sticking out her hand.

“Lanna Jones,” the woman finished the introduction, shaking hands. “I’m a secretary in James’ department.”

“Ohh,” said Claire, nodding knowingly, while wondering why Jamie hadn’t introduced them. She’d met other people he worked with; apparently there were a lot of people from the firm there.

“You’re a lucky girl,” added Lanna, leaning close to Claire as if she were about to whisper a secret. “James is such a cutie, if you don’t mind my saying so.” She giggled school-girlishly, which didn’t really suit her, since she had to be close to forty. She seemed to be trying hard to look younger though; she was dressed in a white sleeveless top that showed much of her ample cleavage and tight little pair of capris that clung to her shapely, tanned legs and backside.

Claire smiled tightly and glanced across the net at Jamie. He had taken off the red button-down shirt he’d had on and now was just wearing the plain white t-shirt he’d had on beneath it. The thin material clung to his toned upper body and contrasted nicely with his dark curls and summer tan. Yes, she thought, observing him, he definitely is a cutie. She’d always found him undeniably attractive, and like a fine wine, he’d just gotten better with age.

She watched Jamie’s head turn toward her, an expression of confusion on his face. When he found her looking at him, he shrugged and gestured toward her, as if to say, “What are you doing over there??”

She gave him a flirty little wave and shrugged back. Even with her less-than-perfect eyesight, it was impossible not to spot the infamous puppy dog face he gave her next. She turned away from it and said to Lanna, “Well, thanks. I’ve always thought so. Problem is, so has he.” She winked, and Lanna giggled again.

“You’re going to be on our team, aren’t you?” she asked, grabbing Claire’s arm like an overexcited child.

“I thought I would, yeah,” said Claire.

“Cool! A little healthy competition with the boyfriend never hurts, eh?” she asked, grinning in Jamie’s direction.

“Nope,” replied Claire, with a mischievous grin of her own. She was rather looking forward to it.

While their host, Bill, had started getting his team into position on the other side of the net, his own boyfriend Lance was going to be refereeing the game. “Hey, everyone on this side!” he called, clapping his hands together to get the attention of the people on Claire’s side of the net. “We’re going to get started in a minute here, so get yourselves set up.”

“Ooh, I wanna be in the back. I stink at volleyball,” said Lanna, positioning herself in the left corner furthest from the net. Claire followed her, stopping in the spot just in front of her on the left side of the court.

The game began, and Logan, the hulking guy Jamie had pointed out earlier, served to Claire’s side first. The ball sailed easily over the net and to the very back row of people on her team; luckily, the guy in the middle bumped it straight back over. A short man in the front left corner on the other side of the net spiked the ball, and Claire was surprised to find it hurtling straight at her feet. Her competitive streak kicking in, she dove and managed to get her cupped hands beneath it just enough to bump it back into the air. The woman in front of her took it from there, sending the ball over the net. It fell to the grass when the other team failed to get their hands under it, and they tossed it back over for Claire’s team to serve.

As the game continued, Claire quickly discovered that the woman behind her, Lanna, was afraid of the ball. Every time it made it back to her – which was fairly often, since there were several strong men on the other team – she put out her arms as if she were going to hit it, then ducked at the very last second, letting it go over her head and fall to the ground. Claire, along with the guy standing next to Lanna, both learned to run towards her and try for the ball themselves if it was headed her way, although Claire found that this was extra taxing.

“Why don’t we switch places?” she finally suggested to Lanna. Lanna agreed, and from then on, Claire was usually able to get the ball when Lanna ducked out of its way. She was not a great volleyball player herself, but she almost always managed to keep the ball in play and pass it to one of her teammates to get it over the net.

Her team ended up losing, but the game was not without its victories for Claire. Before the game point was scored, the served ball came flying right towards her, and she bumped it hard, sending it rocketing back across the net. She hadn’t purposely aimed for Jamie, but that’s who it went to, and he didn’t back up far enough to hit it properly. Everyone gasped as it smacked right into his forehead and ricocheted off. He immediately stumbled backward, his hand flying to his head. Claire clapped her hand across her mouth, in shock at first. Then, when she saw that Jamie was fine, she left it there to stifle her giggle.

“Are you okay, baby?” she asked him when they were done playing, walking him over to the pair of lawn chairs they’d occupied earlier. “I hope I didn’t give you a concussion. Tell me if you start to feel funny, okay? I don’t want you to faint or have a brain hemorrhage or something.”

She was teasing him, purposely trying to act as overly-concerned as she thought he had earlier, and he caught on quickly (a good sign that she hadn’t damaged his brain too much). “Nice of you to care about what you did to me,” he pouted, giving her the puppy dog face again. “I’m gonna have a huge bump on my head. Is the bruise forming yet? Are you sure it’s not bleeding?”

“It looks fine, you big baby,” she told him, but when he sat down, she tenderly smoothed the sweaty curls off his damp forehead and planted a gentle kiss on the spot where the ball had hit him. He smiled up at her, looking placated, and she smiled back, thinking of what she’d be able to tell him the next time they played a sport together: “Maybe you shouldn’t play, Jamie. I don’t want you to… you know… get smacked in the face with the ball.”

Her smile took on a mischievous gleam; that would piss arrogant, varsity soccer star Jamie off for sure. Yep, she’d definitely keep this memory around to throw back into his face – no pun intended – the next time he suggested she shouldn’t do something. Maybe then he’d understand.

***

His plate heaped with his second helping of food, Nick took a seat next to Veronica. “Hey. How come you’re not eating? Food okay?” he asked, looking pointedly at the plate balanced on her lap. It was practically empty compared to his, dotted with only a few small portions of food from the vast spread the caterers had provided, and he knew it was her first helping.

“Oh, it’s fine!” she insisted. “Really good, in fact.” As if to appease him, she speared a small piece of watermelon from her fruit salad and popped it into her mouth, smiling up at him as she swallowed.

“Well, eat up. I paid enough to get it all; I want it to go to good use.” He gave her an easy smile and patted her arm before digging into his fresh scoop of potato salad.

As he ate, he couldn’t help but notice her pick at her food out of the corner of his eye. Veronica ate like a bird; she was the type of girl who would order a salad when they went out to dinner, which always made him feel like a pig when he ordered something big and managed to eat it all. Granted, he was a guy; he figured it was allowed. But he liked a girl with a healthy appetite, a girl who enjoyed eating as much as he did. The thought entered his mind before he had a chance to block it: Claire was that kind of girl.

He scowled and shoveled the forkfuls of food in his mouth faster, as if he could chew away the memories of Claire or, at the very least, drown them in baked beans.

When he had cleaned his plate again, he stood up abruptly and tossed it in the trash. “Be right back,” he told Veronica and went inside. On his way back from the bathroom, he ran into Brian, who was leading Baylee indoors.

“Hey, there you are,” said Brian. “Baylee’s ready to hit the pool – sound okay?”

“Sure thing. That’s what it’s there for,” replied Nick, smiling down at his curly-haired godson.

“Are you simming too, Nick?” Baylee asked, blinking up at Nick with the innocent blue eyes he had a hard time resisting.

“Sure, if you want me to.”

“Yeah!” insisted Baylee. “Put on your simsuit!”

“Yeah, Nick. Put on those ‘simming’ trunks,” echoed Brian with a wink. “That’s what Bay and I are going to go do right now.” Baylee was tugging on Brian’s hand, apparently eager to get his own ‘simsuit’ on and jump in the pool.

Nick laughed. “Well, I guess I’ll do the same. Meet you out back in a few.” He went upstairs and changed into his swim trunks, swapping his regular prosthesis for the waterproof one in the process. He stripped off his polo shirt and lay it out on his bed. Standing shirtless in the center of the room, he patted his full stomach briefly, wondering if he’d made a mistake by eating as much food as quickly as he had. Oh well, he thought, maybe I’ll just stand in the water for awhile and give it some time to digest. He pulled an old t-shirt over his head and went back downstairs.

Veronica looked up at him as he came back out onto the deck. “Baylee told me it was time to put on my ‘simsuit’,” he told her with a shrug and a smile. Then he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Go in and put yours on if you want. You can change in my room.”

Veronica’s eyes shifted downward. “O-oh… that’s okay. I didn’t bring one.”

“Really? You’re not gonna swim?”

She gave him a crooked smile, one corner of her mouth turning up. “Not in a bathing suit in front of five Backstreet Boys and their gorgeous wives, I’m not.”

“Aww, V,” he protested, using one of her nicknames (“You can call me V, call me Ver, call me anything but ‘Ronnie’,” she’d told him on one of their first few dates). “You don’t gotta be self-conscious around any of us… hell, especially me,” he added, looking down at his artificial swimming leg. “I certainly don’t have a perfect body.” He glanced back up at her and winked.

She smiled awkwardly. “Sorry. I know; I’m a bum. I’ll bring one next time.”

Nick studied her, not appeased. He didn’t want her to feel left out; he hadn’t forgotten how much it had sucked to sit around watching the others roughhouse in the pool while he couldn’t swim because of the port in his chest while he was on chemo or didn’t want to because of his leg.

But Veronica seemed to catch onto this and quickly added, “I think I just wanna put my feet in anyway. I don’t mind.” She smiled, and Nick reluctantly smiled back.

“Okay,” he said. She followed him when he stripped his shirt off and walked over to the edge of the pool. He jumped in and surfaced in time to see her carefully avoid the wet spots his splash had left on the patio and sit down on a dry spot. She lowered her bare feet into the water, crossing her ankles, and smoothed her skirt over her legs.

Watching her, Nick was filled with the urge to pull her into the water. He ducked beneath the surface again and glided towards her underwater, moving from side to side like a shark. He emerged from the water humming the theme from Jaws as he reached for her ankles, grinning wickedly.

“Eeee, Nick, don’t!!” Veronica squealed, jumping up and scuttling away from the edge of the pool as fast as she could. She was laughing, but Nick could tell she really didn’t want to get thrown in. That made him want to throw her in even more, but he fought the compulsion. She’s your girlfriend, he reminded himself. Treat her like a lady.

“Oh, come on, come back… I’m not gonna pull you in… I swear,” he assured her, backing up a few feet so that she was safely out of his reach. As he watched her cautiously approach the edge of the pool and lower her legs over the side again, readjusting the material of her skirt, he had a sudden flashback to a much different scene outside the pool at his other house, in Tampa…


They went out to the patio, where soft lights twinkled all around, golden hues illuminating the darkness. The pool sparkled in the moonlight, its water still and placid in the windless night.

“I miss the water,” Nick murmured, his eyes panning across it.

“What, you don’t bathe?”

“You know what I mean.” Nick rolled his eyes. Why was she giving him such a hard time?

“I know, I’m sorry.” Claire offered an apologetic smile and then continued, “But hey, the pool’s right there… go swimming, why don’t you?”

“Go swimming?” he repeated, eyeing her skeptically. “Right.”

“Why not? … Why can’t you swim?”

“Why can’t I… God, Claire, are you just trying to piss me off?”

“No! I’m just trying to get you to stop pouting about what you can and can’t do and do something! If you wanna get in the water, get in the water! You can swim with one leg.”

He cocked his head at her, considering this…

“Only if you come in too,” Nick said, flashing the infamous half-smile he knew most women could not resist… “Seriously, you have to come in too, or I won’t do it.”

“Well, Nick, I don’t care if you do it or not. You’re the one whining about missing the water.” She flashed him a smile to let him know she was teasing.

“No, now I’m whining about wanting you to get in too,” Nick countered with a grin.

Claire rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Well fine, you can just whine then,” she said, standing up from the deck chair in which she’d been perched. She made as if to walk back into the house, but then she turned, and before Nick knew what she was doing, she had taken a running leap, hurtling herself into the far, deep end of the pool and creating a surprisingly colossal splash as she cannonballed into the water, fully-clothed.

Nick’s mouth hung open as she surfaced and swam to the shallow section, making it to the side. Folding her arms on the edge of the pool, she rested her chin atop them and grinned. “Now you have to come in.”


Nick couldn’t help but smile at the memory, though it was a sad smile. He missed her. He missed even just hanging out with her, as friends, the way they used to before their feelings for each other got in the way. Could it ever be like that again, he wondered, with their failed engagement hanging over their heads and Jamie Turner skulking between them? And what about Veronica? As Claire’s impish smile faded from his mind’s eye, Nick’s real eyes focused in on his new girlfriend instead. What would she think if she knew he was standing here thinking of Claire?

He didn’t have a chance to come up with an answer; out of nowhere, he vaguely heard a “Heads up, Nicky!” half a second before something big and round smacked him on the side of the face with a loud thwack. His hand flying up to his stinging cheek in surprise, Nick turned to find AJ grinning sheepishly at him from the center of the pool, a few feet away. Turning his head in the other direction, Nick saw the beach ball he had blown up earlier floating away. He pieced two and two together and returned his gaze to AJ, who started cackling.

“Ha ha,” said Nick humorlessly, sticking his middle finger up out of the water.

Veronica was giggling from the side. “AJ, you dweeb!” she called.

“Me, a dweeb?” AJ repeated in shock. “Dumbass here is the one who didn’t dodge the ball.” He pointed at Nick, his expression gleeful. “What were ya thinking about there, Nicky?” Before Nick could answer – not that he would have answered honestly – AJ sank beneath the water and popped up again right next to Nick. “Thinking about how much you wanna bone Veronica?” he asked in a low voice, poking Nick in the side and smirking devilishly.

“AJ, jeez,” Nick protested, pouncing on his crude friend and dunking him beneath the water. AJ came up sputtering, and they wrestled around for awhile until both of their eyes were stinging from the constant splashes of chlorinated water.

Rubbing at his eyes, Nick made his way over to the side and hoisted himself out of the pool. He made his way over to the stack of beach towels he’d set out earlier and grabbed one from the pile, using it to dry his face, then his arms and torso.

“Done swimming already?” asked Kevin, passing Nick on his way out of the house.

“Me? Never. Just taking a break,” Nick replied, throwing the towel around his shoulders.

“Hey-“ Kevin caught Nick’s arm, his voice low. “-I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

Nick raised his eyebrows, waiting for Kevin to keep going. “Yeah?” he prompted.

Kevin leaned in. “That Veronica,” he said, his green eyes shifting over to where she was sitting, feet still in the pool, “she seems like a really sweet girl.”

“She is,” agreed Nick with a smile.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you,” Kevin went on, his deep, measured, fatherly voice fitting his statement well. “We all are. We’re glad that you’re moving forward and seeing somebody new. And a woman like that – I think she’s just what you need. She’s gonna be good for you.”

Nick smiled awkwardly, embarrassed by Kevin’s – actually, all of the guys’, it seemed – sudden interest in his love life. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Actually, you can thank AJ and Mary… they’re the ones who set me and V up.”

Kevin nodded, looking impressed. “It’s good to see you and AJ finally developing some taste in women,” he said with a wry smile. “It comes with age, I guess. Age and experience.” He patted Nick on the shoulder. “You be good to this one, kid. And make sure she treats you right too.”

“Yes, Dad,” Nick emphasized, rolling his eyes playfully at the older man. “I’ll make sure she comes to ask your permission if we ever intend to get engaged too.”

He was kidding, of course, but as the word ‘engaged’ slipped out of his mouth, his insides seemed to shudder. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get “engaged” again. The title presupposed a commitment, a promise of marriage… but the last time, the only time he’d been engaged, that promise had been broken. If there ever was a next time, he would rather just elope on the spot, than have an engagement ring laid at his feet before he even walked down the aisle.

Kevin didn’t seem to notice Nick’s subtle shift in mood and played along, smirking. “You do that, son. Make sure you bring her by the house. And I’ll want to meet her parents too,” he joked with a wink.

Nick laughed. “Yes, Dad,” he echoed again.

***

The view of the sunset, from the hill overlooking the lush, green golf course, was breathtaking. When the last of the orange sun’s dying rays had sank beneath the gently rippling waters of the lake, and the sky had darkened into an inky shade of navy, the fireworks show began. Claire and Jamie watched it from a blanket they’d spread over the soft grass. She reclined leisurely against his chest, her legs stretched out in front of her, blades of grass tickling her bare toes at the edge of the blanket. He rubbed her upper arms lightly, trying to fend off the goosebumps brought on by the relative coolness of the night.

Her goosebumps came back anyway once the fireworks started, but not because of the temperature. Watching the sky come to life with booming, bright bursts of color, while the upbeat, patriotic melodies of John Phillips Sousa floated across the lake, Claire was filled with emotion. The sprightly piccolo playing in the music reminded her of the fife and drum corps who played the troops into battle in all of the Civil War movies she had seen. She thought of the men who had died trying to keep their country together back then, and of the patriots who had fought to form it nearly a century earlier, during the Revolutionary War.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to the soldiers who were still fighting for their country now, men and women who were stationed overseas, a world away from the fireworks and festivities at home. Most of them were her age or younger, with loved ones here at home, thinking of them, missing them, worrying about them...

As the fireworks continued to explode in the sky, Claire leaned further into Jamie, grateful to be there with him, safe and happy and together. His arms came around her, hugging her from behind, and she smiled, enjoying being held in his embrace.

“It’s so pretty,” she murmured, gazing up at the dazzling display overhead. “I love the Fourth of July…”

“Mm,” Jamie grunted in agreement.

“Remember when we went to Disney World for the Fourth of July?” she asked, speaking softly. “Summer after our senior year?”

“Mm-hm.”

“That was fun. Those fireworks were amazing,” she went on. In her mind’s eye, she traveled back to that night in the Magic Kingdom, when she and Jamie had stood with Dianna and her boyfriend in front of Cinderella’s Castle and watched the stunning, elaborate fireworks rain over the amusement park. The night had been a celebration for the four of them. Fresh out of high school, they’d piled into Jamie’s car and driven to Orlando with the windows down and the music blaring, as a declaration their own independence. Finally, they were free, and on that night, they hadn’t a care in the world. It had been an invigorating feeling.

But of course, the feeling hadn’t lasted. A month later, she was brokenhearted and devastated, trying to cope with her first major breakup from her first serious relationship. She and Jamie were history, or so it had seemed. That Independence Day had been the last memorable night they’d had together, the last event to make it into her scrapbook before he dumped her. Even now, she realized she hadn’t spent the Fourth of July with Jamie since.

“But you know what?” she mused quietly. “I like this better. Disney was too big and loud and crowded. Tonight, I’m glad I’m here… with you…”

Finally, Jamie spoke an actual, intelligible word. “Me too.” Then she felt his body shift, as he leaned forward, his warm breath moving the wisps of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, his soft lips giving her more goosebumps as they lightly grazed the back of her neck. He hugged her closer, and into her ear, he whispered, “I love you, Claire.”

Claire’s stomach somersaulted; her heart seemed to leap into her throat. Jamie Turner had spoken those words to her many times in her life, but not since they’d broken up the first time, not seriously anyway. But this time, she knew he was serious. She could hear the emotion in his husky whisper, and the realization made her heart flutter… but in a good way.

She swallowed, for her throat had suddenly gone dry. Why was she nervous? This was Jamie. Just Jamie… Jamie whom she’d been in love with since she was fifteen. The words she was about to say, she had spoken to him many times during their fourteen months together as teenagers. But never since. And yet, when they finally slid from her tongue, they felt as comfortable as a cozy old blanket on a cold, rainy day.

“I love you, Jamie,” she whispered back, twisting her body so that she was looking at him. He smiled down at her and readjusted her in his arms. Then, moving one hand to the back of her neck, he lowered his face towards hers. Her chin tipped up as she unconsciously gravitated towards him, her arms circling his neck.

When their lips connected, the brilliant explosions of color in the sky suddenly weren’t the only fireworks at the party that night.

***