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Chapter 186

Claire felt strange sitting in the front row of Morsani Hall at the Performing Arts Center, wearing the cutest clothes she could find to fit her still-heavy body. It had been months since she’d gone out and done anything normal. For the last fifteen weeks, her entire life had seemed to revolve only around bed rest, pregnancy, and newborns.

But for the first time since Thanksgiving, she was out and on her own, determined to push her worries about the twins aside and enjoy Nick’s concert. She couldn’t deny that it had been hard to leave the condo, though. She fully trusted her parents with the babies, but it was her first time leaving them since they had come home from the hospital, and she hadn’t counted on how emotional the separation would make her.

Now that she was here, though, she felt better about it. Everything would be fine, she assured herself. She would call her parents when the show got over and check in, and, assuming things were fine, she might even be able to do something with Nick after the show. She hadn’t seen him yet; he had only gotten into town that day, and knowing he needed time for his sound check at the concert hall, she hadn’t bothered to call.

It was just a few minutes from start time, and the excitement in the room was building. Claire could sense it now, remembering how it had been before the Backstreet Boys concert she’d gone to with Laureen. She was only waiting for the chants of “Nick! Nick! Nick!” to begin. Word was he had no opening act, so they wouldn’t have to wait long for him to grace the stage.

There was quite a mix of people in the crowd; looking around, Claire saw plenty of teenagers and young women, but also middle-aged women, men, and quite a few children. Off to one side, she spotted a mom with a couple of little girls who looked no older than seven or eight. Smiling, she thought of Caitlin and Delaine and wondered if Nick would still be performing when they were old enough to come to a concert. She hoped so.

When the lights suddenly darkened, a scream rose to the rafters, and though she didn’t scream herself, Claire felt a bubbling of anticipation deep in her stomach. She stood along with the others in her row as they waited for something to happen upon the lightless stage.

Colored lights started to flash, giving off a dizzying strobe effect, and the back-up band began to play, and within a couple of minutes, Nick appeared, bounding to center stage with more energy than she’d seen him exert in a long time, his face shining in the spotlight as he slammed out chords on his guitar and belted one of the up-tempos from his latest album.

Watching him in awe, Claire was struck by the difference in the stage presence he exuded while on his own, compared to with the Backstreet Boys. He was charismatic with the Boys, goofy at times, melodramatic at others, depending on what sort of tortured facial expressions the lyrics called for, but now he was playing the part of the rock star – and playing it well, she thought, her eyes traveling down his body in admiration. The music he was singing wasn’t exactly “rock,” but it did have a rock edge, which he brought out with an extra roughness in his voice. He sounded good, and he looked great with that guitar.

It suddenly hit Claire that for eleven months, she had lived out the fantasy of dating a rock star and never even appreciated it as such. She had never really considered Nick a “rock star,” but now she appreciated that he was more versatile than she had given him credit for. When had he learned to play the guitar like that? He was no Jimi Hendrix, not even close, but he wasn’t bad. Not bad at all…

I’m totally checking him out, she realized, a smirk crossing her face, but she didn’t put much effort into stopping it. Nick was hot; that’s all there was to it. She had never denied it before, and she wasn’t about to start now. She’d always had a thing for rockers, and here he was, her beautiful ex, blonde hair flying as he practically head-banged over his electric guitar. Of course she was turned on. She had every right to be. She and Jamie were separated, so what did it really matter? She let herself lust, winking at Nick when he caught her eye in the pause before the next song, smiling to herself at the knowledge of the feelings she was hiding, the secret desire fluttering in her stomach.

She enjoyed herself immensely the rest of the concert, maybe even more than she had at the Backstreet Boys concert, and that had been a blast. Maybe it was because Nick was so much less cheesy on his own. There was no choreography, no scripted banter between songs, no overdone special effects or video. It was just Nick, Nick and his band and his guitar and his voice, and when he stopped to address the audience, he spoke naturally, joking around and saying whatever came to mind. It was the kind of concert she loved, and the fact that it was Nick up there onstage made her love it more than the best rock concert she’d ever been to. He was just that endearing.

Near the end of the show, the lights on stage went totally dark. From her spot in the front row, Claire could hear people moving around onstage, though her poor night vision could barely make out their shadowy silhouettes. When the stage lights came on again, they were all white and rose only enough to provide a softly glowing, romantic ambience. In the middle of the stage gleamed a lovely, polished, black grand piano, and for a moment, a surprised Claire wondered if Nick had learned to play one of those too. But then one of the band members sat down on the bench instead, and Nick walked back to the front of the stage, where his microphone stand stood in a circle of light.

Cheers rose and quickly fell, as, clearing his throat, Nick leaned into the mic and spoke. “I wrote this next one about a dear friend of mine. She’s here tonight, and her birthday is in a few days. She knows who she is, so baby… this one’s for you. This is ‘Live for You.’”

Claire’s throat tightened with the swelling of emotion that came as the pianist began the haunting rift of the song that had mesmerized her the first time she’d listened to his CD, and every time since.

And then Nick sang.

“I thought I’d reached my breaking point,
Every ounce of my strength gone,
But when I felt I couldn’t walk any further,
You’re the one who helped me carry on…”

Hearing him sing the familiar lyrics live, lyrics he’d penned about her, was far more incredible than listening to the song in her car. Claire was quickly swept up in the performance, and tears rose in her eyes as he let the song slowly build to its bridge.

“So the least I can do is return the favor;
Know that I’ll always be by your side…”

You have been, she thought, with a sentimental sniff, thinking of how Nick had been the first to see her newborn babies, even before she herself had seen them. You’ve always been by my side.

Maybe she depended on him too much, but to her, that was half the beauty of their relationship. He was someone she could depend on, and vice versa. She had his back, and he was, as promised, always by her side, even if only in spirit. It had not been that way with Jamie.

By the time the concert was over, she was so enthralled with Nick and his performance that it didn’t faze her when his voice cracked and cut out on the encore, and she screamed herself hoarse right along with the other fans as she left the stage. As the lights came back on, brightening the concert hall, she let out a slow breath, a release of all the emotions built up in her during the show.

She sank back into her seat and let others stream out around her, until someone from security came and offered to escort her backstage to see Nick, who had obviously sent for her. The security guard led her out of the concert hall, away from the public, to the backstage hallway where the dressing rooms were situated. This area was much less lavish than the rest of the performing arts center, but Nick’s dressing room was filled with goodies – most notably, a fabulous spread of food, more than he could ever eat himself (a fact which would make her grateful later, as she realized how hungry she’d gotten during the concert). But Claire didn’t notice the food, nor the Nintendo Wii, nor even the miniature pinball machine at first. She only had eyes for Nick.

He was sprawled out on his back on the couch when she came in, but as soon as he saw her, he jumped up. Well, he got up, anyway. “Jumped” was a stretch, though she could tell he was excited to see her. He looked completely worn out, drenched in sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his skin, but he beamed her a tired smile and quickly came over.

She met him halfway. “You were awesome!” she beamed back, holding out her arms for a hug.

“You sure?” he laughed wheezily. He was breathing hard. “I’m pretty nasty,” he added, peeling his sticky t-shirt away from his chest.

“Aw, a little Nick sweat never hurt a girl. C’mere,” she invited, leaving her arms open. The hug he gave her was ginger, but she quickly tightened it, teasing, “Hey now, you can hug me better than that! I’m not preggers anymore, and I’m all healed up – you’re not gonna hurt anything.”

And his arms embraced her more firmly. He pulled away rather quickly, though, saying, “Man, no offense, but it’s too hot in here for long hugs. I feel disgusting.”

Claire sort of did too, now that she’d hugged the slimy guy, but she didn’t really mind. “None taken. C’mon, let’s sit.” She joined him on the couch, where he continued to pant. “Doing a whole show by yourself really takes it out of you, huh?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

He drew the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing away the sweat. “Yeah. It’s different when you’re singing the entire time, and you have no idea how hot it gets under those lights.”

She didn’t, but hot or not, he was breathing more shallowly than she thought someone who had really just been standing or sitting in front of a microphone singing should be, and it concerned her. She hated to be a worrywart or a nag, but she couldn’t help but reply, in an offhanded way, “Do you always pant like a dog when you get offstage?”

Nick gave her a look, and a few seconds passed before he responded. “What, you sayin’ I’m out of shape or somethin’?” he asked, poking her in the side. His tone was good-natured, and even she chuckled.

“If I was, it’d be the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t it? I mean, look at me.” She held her arms wide and slouched backward on the couch to make her gut more prominent. To say she still had a few pounds of baby weight left to shed was a huge understatement; she felt like a whale.

Nick looked perfectly in shape, though, and she told him so. “It’s not that; it’s just, you’re breathing funny… aren’t you?” She gave him a questioning look, wondering if she was just being paranoid.

But she thought his already flushed face turned a little redder, and he looked away as he admitted, “I’ve been getting out of breath, more than I used to. I mean, on stage. I don’t notice it in everyday life at all, but by the end of a concert, I can barely get through a short phrase without sneaking a breath, and my voice shakes and gives out, and…” He paused to clear his throat and shook his head, embarrassed. “It’s awful. I dunno what it is all of a sudden.”

This rare admission on his behalf made her heart start to beat a little faster, and her worry was only increased instead of eased. “Nick… that doesn’t sound right. It’s not just that you’re out of practice, is it? I mean, you rehearsed for weeks, didn’t you? You warm up your voice before all your shows, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I do. It’s not that. I know what it feels like when my voice is just out of shape; this isn’t it. I… I think it might just be… well, you know when I had that BOOP?” Claire nodded, suppressing a smirk. Such a low period in Nick’s life, and she still had the urge to laugh at the name. She was terrible. “Well, didn’t that doctor say it was chronic? That, you know, I might have some shortness of breath and stuff for awhile after? I think maybe that’s all it is. It’s my first time touring since I had that, you know.”

“It could be,” said Claire, thinking that Nick sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than her. “You don’t think it’s coming back, do you?”

Again, it took Nick a long time to answer. “I don’t think so,” he said finally, shaking his head, but it seemed like another weak attempt to convince himself. She recognized denial when she saw it.

“I think you should go see your doctor while you’re here in town, just to be sure,” she told him matter-of-factly. Now she was being a nag, but she didn’t care. His health was more important than what he thought of her and her opinions.

“Aw, Claire, it’s not that big of a deal. Like I said, I’m fine the rest of the day… and see, it’s already getting better.” And he was breathing more normally now, though he was still red-faced and sweaty.

“Nick,” she sighed, turning to look him right in the eye, “don’t play games with your health. You know you’re taking a risk in not asking your doctor about even something that seems small. Don’t do it.”

He sheepishly met her gaze, and she could tell they were thinking of the same thing: the “cold” he’d had for months that had turned out to be symptoms of a lung tumor that had nearly killed him.

“I’m only in town another day; we leave first thing Saturday morning for Dallas.”

“Then we’ll go tomorrow,” said Claire promptly. “I’ll go with you.” Anything to make sure that he went. She could not forget the fact that it was a missed check-up that had led to the lung tumor getting so bad before they caught it. She was not going to let him repeat that mistake, even if he was insistent on it.

“You think I’ll be able to get an appointment on such short notice?”

“You’re a celebrity. You explain the circumstances, that you’re only in town tomorrow and desperately need to see your doctor, and I’m sure they’ll find a slot for you. And if that doesn’t work, we both have some pull at General. We’ll get you in,” she replied with a confident nod.

Nick gave her a weak, crooked smile of submission. “Alright, fine. You’ll go with me?”

“Absolutely. You can come pick me up and see the babies. You won’t even recognize them.”

His smile grew bigger. “Alright. You win. I’ll call in the morning and see what time I can get in.”

“You do that. And if all else fails, we’ll just go to the ER and fake some shortness of breath there. They’ll have to take you.” She beamed him a smile back, feeling pride at her persuasiveness.

He nodded his agreement and quickly changed the subject. She let it drop, still concerned about him, but feeling better now that he’d agreed to go to the doctor. Tomorrow, he would have answers, and she’d be able to stop worrying… or worry about him even more.

***