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Chapter 166

On Christmas morning, Nick and Laureen woke up early and in varying states of undress. A boxer-clad Nick pushed his half of the covers off of himself as he sat up in bed, stretching his arms above his head, yawning widely, scratching his bare chest, running his fingers through his matted hair. Beside him, Laureen pulled her half of the covers tighter around her unclothed form and smiled sleepily up at him from her pillow.

“Morning,” he said softly and returned the smile, thinking of last night and how they had made love on the beach. He had tried to go slow and be gentle, wanting to make the experience sweet and enjoyable for her. And it had been, from what he could tell. It certainly had been for him anyway. There was a certain romance to sex on the beach that even he could appreciate. A soft cushion of sand beneath them, an endless sky of glittering stars above, and not a soul around but them, they had lain in each other’s arms for what had seemed like hours, the bonfire and the heat of their bodies warming them, their heavy breathing turning even and slow as the flames waned.

Finally, when the fire had died and a chill was cemented firmly in the air, they had retreated to the house. Nick could still picture Laureen flitting up the deck stairs, fleece blanket wrapped tightly around her naked body, the bells on the fringe jingling all the way. His smile grew at the memory. He had teased her about the bells, and she had complained that what other choice did she have – it was too cold to take the blanket off long enough to put her clothes back on. She’d grabbed it and ran.

It was now draped over a chair in his room, next to which her abandoned clothes were heaped. Wondering if it was time to get up and get dressed, his eyed shifted from the clothes to the clock. It was early, just after seven a.m.

“What time is it?” Laureen asked, watching him, and he told her the time. “Mm… it’s Christmas morning,” she murmured, smiling. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you,” Nick returned with a grin. “Think Santa’s gonna be good to you?”

Laureen lifted her brows. “I think he already has,” she replied, smirking, as her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Ho, ho, I think someone’s on the naughty list,” Nick played along, giving her his most devilish grin. “So it was good, was it?”

Her smile grew, as did the red splotches on her cheeks. “Yeah, it was good. I’ve always heard the second time is better, but I dunno… Christmas Eve… the beach… you. Not much could top that combination.”

“Really? What about Christmas Day… the jacuzzi… and me?” Nick ticked off the first two on his fingers and finished with his thumb in the center of his chest and the sexiest look he could muster on his face.

Laureen giggled. “Well, in that case… the second time could very well be better.”

“Guess we’ll find out later, right?” Nick waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“Definitely,” said Laureen, smiling seductively as she sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. “Should we go see if Santa came?”

“Oh,” Nick snickered, “Santa came alright.”

Laureen giggled again, red-faced and shiny-eyed. “Shame on you, Nick, being perverted on Christmas morning,” she teased.

“I’m not being perverted. I heard him last night, pounding… on the rooftop…”

Still laughing, Laureen shook her head. “Come on, Saint Nickolas; I want my present!”

“I’ve got a present for you,” said Nick, sliding the covers slowly off of his lap, revealing his boxers inch by inch. “Check out this package right here…”

“Nick!” she shrieked in mock frustration, though her giggling ruined any glimmer of plausible seriousness. “I saw that package last night; now I want what’s under the Christmas tree!”

“I better see if I can squeeze under the Christmas tree then,” Nick grinned. “Race you downstairs.” He lunged, which sent Laureen leaping out of bed, pulling his sheet with her. While she scrambled to get some clothes on, he leisurely swung his leg over the side of the bed and reached for his prosthetic one.

“Oh,” said Laureen with a silly laugh, stopping when she realized she had no competition.

Nick smiled over his shoulder at her before he went back to his business, suctioning the prosthesis to his stump as he did every morning.

Behind him, Laureen picked up her shirt from the night before and coughed. “Ew, my clothes smell like bonfire.”

“Just throw something of mine on,” said Nick without turning around, casually waving his hand in the direction of his closet. He heard her open the closet door and rummage around inside. Eventually, she emerged wearing a baggy pair of his sweats and a broad smile.

“You ready?” he asked her, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head.

“Ready!” She danced from foot to foot in anticipation, reminding of his sisters on the Christmas mornings of his childhood. He caught her as she winced, though, and smiled in amusement.

“Are you sore?”

“A little,” Laureen admitted, blushing.

He offered an apologetic grin. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I guess you expect it your first time, right?”

Nick shrugged. “Guess so. Come on, let’s go downstairs – we can take it slow.”

Winking, he followed her down the stairs to the living room, where the massive, beautiful tree sat. There were only a few presents under it – gifts from him to her, from her to him, and some things from the both of them to Claire, who, when she’d found out that neither of them would be spending the holiday with their own families, had invited them over to the condo for Christmas dinner with her family. Nick had accepted, partly because he liked the traditional feel of holidays with her family (and it guaranteed him a good meal), and partly because he just couldn’t wait to see the look on Jamie’s face when he sat down across from him at the dinner table. Maybe he’d even get away with a well-placed kick under the table, on the basis that he couldn’t feel anything with a plastic foot and didn’t realize Jamie’s leg was there.

Nick smirked in amusement, while Laureen gleefully sorted the packages. There were more for him than for her, and as he looked down at the variety of boxes, both large and small, in front of him, he frowned and said, “What all did you get me?? You shouldn’t have done all of this…” He eyed the two gifts sitting in her lap, one box medium-sized, the other very small, and felt inferior.

Laureen blushed. “It’s not as much as you think. You have to open them all together; they kinda coordinate…”

Nick was mystified, but nodded. “Okay… well, why don’t you open yours first, then?”

“Okay…” Smiling, Laureen set a hand on each package. “Which one?”

“Start with the big one,” Nick replied with a wink. The big one was kind of lame, in his mind, but he thought she might like it. He watched in anticipation as she pulled off the wrapping paper, lifted the lid of the box, and started sifting through the tissue paper inside. She quickly emerged with something flat and square – a CD.

She turned it over, then held it up, crinkling her nose in confusion. “It’s… your first CD,” she said, as if Nick didn’t recognize the red-covered original Backstreet Boys album he had given her. “Which I love, don’t get me wrong, but I do already have it,” she added with a laugh.

“Bet you don’t have one quite like this,” Nick winked.

Suddenly eager, Laureen opened the case – the CD was already out of its packaging – and gasped. “It’s autographed!” she squealed. “By all of you!!”

Nick smiled, pleased with himself. She didn’t know it yet, but still left inside the box were six more Backstreet Boys CDs, every album they’d recorded, including the greatest hits, all autographed by Kevin, Howie, Brian, AJ, and himself. It seemed like such a simple, obvious gift to give, but he’d known she would appreciate it, and she didn’t even know how much of a hassle it had been to get them all in his possession in time for Christmas. It should have been easy, a Backstreet Boy acquiring the autographs of the other four members of his group, but with the Boys spread across the country, he’d had to Fed-Ex the box of CDs coast to coast and count on the guys to grant his favor. In the end, they had come through, and Laureen now had a full collection of autographed Bsb CDs.

She squealed over each one, taking a moment to open it and intently study the liner, running her hands over the signatures. It was cute to watch.

When she was finally finished admiring the autographed collection, Nick referred her to the other gift, which was much smaller. She took the wrapping paper off this one carefully, as if she already knew there was something valuable inside. Nick supposed it wasn’t hard to guess that it was a jewelry box – girls could always tell.

Laureen looked up at him for a moment when she unsheathed the flat, rectangular box, covered by navy blue velvet. Then her eyes dropped again, as she slowly lifted the lid. “Oh, Nick!” she gasped, when she saw what was inside. “It’s gorgeous!!”

Nick smiled as he watched her admire the necklace mounted inside the box. He’d thought of her when he’d seen it at the jeweler’s – a three-stone pendant, it held a one-carat princess cut diamond in the center, flanked by a smaller gemstone on either side, rare topaz of the most extraordinary shade of bright, turquoise blue. He’d been attracted to the blue because it reminded him of the ocean on a cloudless day, but he also knew that Laureen liked blue and hoped she would find it pretty. Judging by her reaction, she did.

“I shouldn’t ask, but is… this a real diamond?” she asked, fingering the diamond in the middle of the setting.

“Uh-huh.”

Laureen’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she breathed, “I’ve never owned a real diamond before. But the blue is even prettier! Thank you so much, Nick!!”

“You’re welcome. C’mere, lemme put it on you,” he offered, beckoning her over.

Smiling, Laureen carefully removed the necklace from its box and positioned herself in front of him, her back to him. She held her auburn hair out of the way while he unclasped the necklace and put it around her neck, fumbling to refasten the white gold chain.

“How does it look?” she asked when he’d succeeded, turning around.

To be honest, she looked a little silly wearing that necklace with one of his old sweatshirts, but he smiled broadly and replied, “Beautiful.”

Laureen beamed. “Thank you,” she said again. “You really shouldn’t have… A real diamond… wow. But I do love it.”

“Good. I thought my girlfriend deserved to have some nice bling to wear when we go out,” he explained, winking.

Her smile grew, and as their eyes met, the unspoken covenant was agreed upon. As if last night’s tryst hadn’t cemented it, it was official now, their boyfriend/girlfriend status.

“Open yours now,” Laureen urged a few moments later, and Nick obeyed, but he noticed, while glancing up occasionally as he started unwrapping, that her eyes kept dropping to the necklace resting against her chest, her fingers gingerly rubbing it every few seconds or so. He smiled, pleased that she liked it.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from her gifts, but when he opened the first box, which was also the largest, he was more surprised than he’d imagined to pull out a stark white blazer and matching suit pants. He couldn’t conceal the bewildered look he shot Laureen, who immediately stifled a giggle.

“Don’t react yet,” she said, holding up her hand, while the other remained over her mouth. “Open the other boxes.”

Nick did and found a plain, bright teal-colored t-shirt (ironically, almost the same color as the gemstones on Laureen’s necklace) in one and a pair of used-looking white loafers in another. He stared at his girlfriend. Surely, she could not be serious. Hadn’t the Miami Vice look gone out of fashion, like, two decades ago?

“What are you thinking?” asked Laureen, a hopeful smile on her face.

“I’m thinking you want me to dress like Don Johnson?” Nick’s response was more of a question; he had no idea what this was all about. He’d never had a girlfriend who couldn’t pick out clothes; usually, they were better at dressing him than he was.

“Open the last one,” she urged.

Nick went for the remaining box, a medium-sized one, and found inside… a dress?!

It was a dress alright, a party dress straight out of the 80s, made of taffeta, with a strapless black bodice and a short, full skirt made of poofy ruffles in a shade of bright teal that matched the t-shirt he’d opened earlier.

Holding the dress up, he eyed Laureen suspiciously. “I hope this is for you to wear, not me. I can’t wear short skirts – I don’t have the legs for it,” he lisped in a girly voice and then added, with a wink, “Literally.”

She giggled. “It is for me to wear. But there’s one more thing,” she said, and handed him a card.

Hoping the card would explain everything, Nick opened the envelope and pulled out not a Christmas card, but a certificate, printed on stiff paper, which read, Good for one dance at Club Nite-Glo.

He looked at Laureen over the top of the coupon; suddenly, the clothes made sense. Club Nite-Glo was an 80s themed nightclub in downtown Tampa, where they played 80s music, and people came dressed in outrageous 80s fashion.

“So you’re asking me a on a date to Nite-Glo, huh?” asked Nick, waving the certificate.

Laureen smiled brightly. “A few years ago, you told me you don’t dance anymore, and I said I didn’t dance either. Well, we’re gonna dance. Dressed in this stuff,” she explained, fingering one of the ruffles on her dress.

“I won’t feel self-conscious at all,” teased Nick, winking at her. When she blushed, he added quickly, “I’m kidding; this is great. It’ll be a blast.” Really, it would be, to go out, dressed in gaudy 80s garb, and jam to hair bands and Debbie Gibson. And he thought it was cute that she remembered a conversation they’d had three years ago; that made the gift more meaningful.

“Really? So you like it?”

“I love it,” he replied, leaning over the pile of clothes to kiss her. “Thank you.”

She beamed. “You’re welcome!”

***

Claire stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and smoothed her red maternity top down over her belly, glad to be upright and dressed in something other than pajamas or sweats. She’d unwrapped the new blouse, a gift from her mother, that morning and, wearing it, she felt more like a real person than she had in weeks. In fact, she felt like a woman again, rather than an overstuffed sausage. She smiled into the mirror, admiring the way the plunging neckline accentuated her swollen breasts (one of the perks of her pregnancy) and the flowing material that draped gracefully over her distended front. Pausing to adjust the delicate string of pearls around her neck, an heirloom from her maternal grandmother, she left the bedroom and returned to the living room, where most of her family was dressed and waiting.

Kyle, Amber, and Kamden, who had opened their presents to each other and from Santa Claus at home that morning, had arrived while Claire, Jamie, and her parents were still in their pajamas, finishing up their gift exchanges. Now it was midday, and Nick and Laureen were due to arrive for their afternoon Christmas dinner anytime. Claire had extended the offer once Nick revealed that neither of them would be with their families, and she was glad he had said yes. She loved having a lot of people around at Christmas, especially if she didn’t have to cook and play hostess. And as she was on bed rest, she was exempt from both this year. This would be the most walking she’d probably do all day, much to her frustration.

“You look nice, honey,” said Jamie sweetly as she came over to join him on the couch.

Claire beamed at the compliment. “Thanks! I thought you’d be glad to see me not looking dumpy for once.”

“Aww, housewives are supposed to be dumpy. Unless they’re Eva Longoria.”

Claire let out a snort. “Well, even when I’m not pregnant, I have no hope of looking like her, so don’t set your expectations too high there, buddy.”

“Never.” Jamie winked. “I love you just the way you are…” Lowering his voice, he gave her a devilish smirk, pulled her close, and nuzzled her neck as he added, “Freckles and firecrotch and all.”

Reddening, Claire gave him a smack and hissed back into his ear, “It’s Christmas, and my family is in the room; stop it!”

“You love me too,” Jamie replied simply with a big grin, as he tried to pull her out of her spot next to him and onto his lap. He ruined any hint of romance within the gesture by letting out an exaggerated “Oomph!” when she lowered her weight onto him.

Claire twisted herself around to smack him again. “Soon I’m going to outweigh you, and see how you like it when I beat you up then,” she retorted, poking him squarely in the chest. She’d gained nearly forty pounds already with the twins, and with one trimester to go, she would easily pass 170 before they were born. She found that she didn’t really care; it was fun to be pregnant and have an excuse to gain weight. Much better than packing on twenty pounds from the side effects of chemo.

“I don’t think beating me up is one of the activities your doctor will allow,” Jamie pointed out, poking her back.

She was spared from an all-out poking war by a knock at the door. “That’s probably them!” she said, immediately climbing off of Jamie and returning to her spot next to him. “Wanna get the door?” she asked him, but Kyle had already gotten up to answer it. The teasing, twinkly-eyed smile left Jamie’s face as they heard the door unlatch and open and Kyle’s voice say, “Hey, Merry Christmas! Come on in.”

Little Kamden ran out of the room to see who was there and returned with Kyle, Nick, and Laureen in tow. Nick was wearing red (a good color on him, Claire had always thought); Laureen, dark, emerald green. They were both carrying gifts and looking vibrant and happy.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Claire smiled up at them and invited them to sit down. She’d made Jamie bring some extra chairs in after they’d cleaned up the small mountain of wrapping paper from that morning’s festivities.

They both sat down, but not before Laureen had flitted over to show Claire her gift from Nick, a gorgeous diamond and blue topaz necklace. Nick told her all about his gift from Laureen too, and Claire smiled at the thought of him dressed like Don Johnson from “Miami Vice,” out dancing with Laureen, who would no doubt look adorable in her eighties dress. It sounded like a lot of fun. She’d never be able to convince Jamie to do something like that, unless she got him really drunk first.

“I’ve got presents for you too!” Claire said brightly, motioning to the two packages that remained under the tree, next to the ones Nick and Laureen had brought over.

And so, while her mother and Amber worked in the kitchen, her father and Kyle played with Kamden, and Jamie stewed, Claire, Nick, and Laureen had their own gift exchange.

Claire was thrilled with the presents they gave her. Nick surprised her with a bright, lime green iPod, which went perfectly with Laureen’s gift, a device called an iCrib which she’d be able to hook to one of the twins’ cribs and connect to the iPod to play music for the babies as they went to sleep. They had clearly planned the gifts together, as they both also gave her a CD, “Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of Led Zeppelin” from Laureen and, of course, its counterpart “Lullaby Renditions of Nirvana” from Nick. Claire didn’t hesitate to put them in the stereo so they could giggle over “Kashmir” and “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as soothing lullabies.

She didn’t think her gifts to them were as clever or exciting, but they seemed to enjoy them and, as she’d expected, Nick laughed at the Dr. Seuss-esque red- and green-striped stocking cap she’d knitted him, which had, amazingly, turned out less knobby than she’d imagined it would. Other than the clashing Christmas colors, it looked pretty good. The only problem was, it was too small.

“Darn,” she pouted, when Nick tried and failed to get it to fit over his head. “How big is your fat head, anyway??”

“Bigger than your hat, apparently,” Nick teased.

She was disappointed – not that she’d actually expected him to wear the thing – but he assured her that he would find some use for it. “Maybe I’ll give it to Brian,” he mused. “He has a small head. Or his kid; I’m sure it would fit Baylee, even with all that curly hair.”

“Aww, come on, it’s not that little!” she laughed.

Nick stuck his hands inside the hat and tried to stretch it. “It’s pretty little.”

“Poo. Well, at least I know I’ll be able to knit some baby hats.”

“Do you need to keep this one as a model for how big to make them?”

“Oh, be quiet! I’m never making you anything again!”

Nick just laughed.

When they were done unwrapping presents, Laureen gathered the paper up to throw away, and Nick excused himself to the bathroom. Jamie went to check on the rest of the women in the kitchen and returned, saying, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

The Christmas dinner that followed was nice, with no unpleasantness and no disastrous events. There were no oven fires, no preterm labor, and no snide remarks exchanged between Jamie and Nick. Granted, the two of them didn’t really talk to each other at all, but at least they conducted themselves maturely. It probably helped that they were sitting on the same side of the table, with Claire and Laureen in between them – a planned seating arrangement – so that they could hardly make eye contact enough to give each other looks.

After dinner, Nick helped Jamie and Kyle clear the table and then excused himself again, while Claire and her father took Kamden back into the living room to play, leaving her mother, Amber, and Laureen to clean up and do the dishes.

“Aunt Claiow, watch my song!” commanded Kamden, beating on the toy drum she’d given him, a gift which had received quite the dirty look from her brother, though Nick had approved.

“Isn’t Kam a natural, Nick?” asked Claire with a smile, when Nick came back into the room.

“He’s a regular Keith Moon,” replied Nick, grinning in return. Shifting his eyes from the three-year-old to her, he asked, “Hey, Claire, can you come back here for a sec?”

“Sure…” Claire stood slowly, mystified, and followed him as he led her away from everyone else, down the hall, and into the spare bedroom, which would eventually become a temporary nursery for the babies once they were born and home from the hospital. But for now, there was just a bed in the room, which had come with the furnished condo.

“What’s up?” she asked Nick, when he eased the door partway shut behind them. He was making her just the slightest bit worried with the secrecy, whisking her off in private like this. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” said Nick, grinning. “I just wanted to show you: I found a use for your hat.”

As the striped hat was not on his head, or anywhere in sight, for that matter, Claire raised her eyes skeptically. “Really. What kind of use?”

His eyes sparkling with amusement, Nick held up a finger. “Close your eyes.”

She did, and waited for him to say she could open them again. In the meantime, she heard him shuffling around and the unmistakable sound of a zipper. “Nick… what are you doing?” she asked suspiciously.

“Hang on,” he insisted, his voice sounding slightly strained.

More fumbling around, a soft thud or two, and then finally, he said, “Okay.”

“I can open my eyes?”

“You can open your eyes.”

She did and was greeted with the sight of Nick standing next to the bed in his boxers. His weight was on his good leg, and the fake one was lying on the floor with his jeans. He was resting his stump on the bed, and when she looked, she immediately burst out laughing and buried her face in her hands.

“I knitted you a stump sock?!” she cried through her laughter, shaking her head. Sure enough, he’d taken the hat was too small for his head and pulled it on over his stump instead, where it appeared to be a pretty good fit. It looked pretty hilarious though, the cheerful red and green stripes poking out from his plaid boxers.

“It’s quite cozy, actually,” Nick joked, grinning. “Think you could make me another one in blue?”

Giggling, Claire sank down on the bed. “Oh my god. I try to make you a hat, and it turns into a stump sock. If I tried to knit you one of those, it’d probably end up fitting better as a mitten or something.”

“Now that’s what I really need to get through a Florida winter: mittens.”

“Just about as much as you need a knit stocking cap,” Claire laughed.

Nick snickered. “Yeah, not so much. But hey, I do use these. It actually works pretty well. I’ll wear it every Christmas and think of you,” he said with a toothy grin.

“How special,” said Claire, laughing, and without even really thinking about it, she reached out and touched the end of his stump, her fingers brushing across the soft, knitted yarn.

It was at that moment that the door suddenly flew open, and there stood Jamie, glaring in at the sight of Nick standing in his boxers and Claire sitting on the bed, her hand on his thigh. She immediately took it off in shock, but the look on Jamie’s face would not fade any faster than Nick could get his pants back on.

Claire realized, after a few seconds’ recovery time, how the scene must have looked to Jamie, but by the time she began to explain, she could tell her husband had already drawn his own conclusions and that no explanation, no matter how true it was, was going to make him think any differently.

***