“Ahh, feels good to be home, doesn’t it?” Claire quipped, patting Nick’s knee.
He made a face at her, looking around the small room in which they’d sat together so many times before. It had undergone a renovation sometime in the last year, he could see. New chairs, different colors; even the artwork on the walls had changed. But it was still the same old waiting room, and through that door next to the receptionist’s cubicle lay the same old hallway, leading to the examining rooms where Nick had braved needles and bad news. They could make it pleasant-looking, but the cancer clinic at Tampa General Hospital would always be a depressing place to Nick.
“Yep,” he replied dryly. “Home sweet home.”
Another scan of the waiting room revealed people who were in the situation he’d been in more than six years ago, people with bald heads and bloated faces, looking nervous and nauseous. The sight brought back bad memories, yet filled him with a gnawing sort of guilt.
It had been five-and-a-half years since his last chemotherapy treatment, and about five since he’d achieved remission once more. As of this month, he was five years removed from the hell these people were stuck in, and if today’s appointment with Dr. Kingsbury went well, he’d finally be able to say he was cured.
Cured.
For so long, the word had been a carrot on a string, dangled just out of his grasp. But now, he was close enough to reach out and grab it.
Not without its cost, though.
The cure had come at a high price, and as he sat there in a wheelchair, his leg gone, his lungs permanently damaged, his clothes hiding the scars of surgeries and biopsies, needles and catheters, Nick couldn’t forget how much he had paid for it. But he had no regrets. He knew how lucky he was to be there, alive, breathing on his own, and cleansed of the cancer cells that had wreaked such havoc on his body. Every day was a gift.
He’d spent just six of them at home since leaving the hospital in Des Moines and flying back to Tampa. Six long days, made longer by the fact that, with broken ribs and no prosthesis, he was pretty much confined to bed or a wheelchair. He’d been forced to move back into the downstairs guest bedroom, and he would stay there, until his new prosthesis was made or his ribs healed enough for crutches.
But it really wasn’t so bad. Every night he had spent in the guestroom, Claire had spent with him.
They had all flown back together, Nick, Claire, and the twins, and they’d been staying in Nick’s house, living together there like a family, for the week since then. It was a nice arrangement for all of them. Nick had someone to keep him company and could occupy himself by playing with Caitlin and Delaine. And Claire now had a partner, someone who could watch the babies for her while she took a shower or ran to the store. She took care of him, he helped her take care of her kids, and together, they were as happy as they could have been.
It wasn’t a perfect situation, but one day, it would be. When she was ready, he would help Claire sell the condo, and she would bring the twins to live with him permanently. Then he could finally make her his wife and be the kind of husband she hadn’t had in Jamie. He would love her children as his own, and together, they would be a real family.
He looked forward to that day more than anything… except, maybe, for being cured.
Nick hadn’t had to look his cancer in the face in five years, yet even with it removed from his body, it had stayed with him, lingering in the back of his mind. There was always the worry, the fear, of a relapse that kept him coming back to the oncology clinic for check-ups, first every six months, then once a year. He hadn’t skipped one of them, not since the missed appointment that had nearly cost him his life. He’d allowed a tumor to get out of control because he’d blown off a clinic visit to hang out with his brother. He had vowed never to let that happen again.
This particular check-up, hopefully his last, had been scheduled for early December, but as he’d been laid up in Des Moines at the time, he had rescheduled it for today, the Tuesday before Christmas. If he got the news he was hoping for from Dr. Kingsbury, it would be the greatest Christmas present he’d ever received.
“Nick?”
Nick looked up, and there was a nurse, waiting to take him back. Surprisingly, he didn’t recognize her. A lot had changed in the last five years; sadly, he’d once been familiar with most of the nurses on the floor.
“Hi, I’m Alison,” the nurse introduced herself. “We’re heading to the third door on your right.”
Claire pushed Nick down the hall and into the third room on the right-hand side. She helped him out of the wheelchair, onto the examining table, and into the hospital gown Alison had left for him. Once he was changed, the nurse came back and took his vitals and a blood sample.
“The doctor will be in to examine you in a few minutes,” she promised when she was finished, leaving the room.
Poking at the cotton ball taped inside his elbow, Nick looked up and found Claire watching him. “What?”
She smiled. “Back in the beginning, did you ever think you’d get to this point? Sitting here at your last check-up ever.”
“Hey now, don’t jinx me, woman. How’s that saying go, about counting chickens or something?”
“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch?” Claire supplied.
“Yeah, that’s the one. We all think it’s gonna be the last, but I just don’t wanna get my hopes up if it’s not, you know? There’s always surprises… shit happens.”
“You’ve been through enough shit,” Claire replied firmly. “You feel fine, right? I mean, besides the accident stuff.”
“Yeah…” Nick shrugged. “And I know that with all the tests and monitoring and everything they did in the hospital, they woulda caught it if something was weird with me. But still… I just can’t relax here. It’s like habit for me. I always expect bad news.”
“You’re a pessimist.” Claire stood up, leaned in, and kissed the tip of his nose. Looking him right in the face, she added sternly, “You need to be more of an optimist.”
He grinned. “Sorry.”
“I know how you feel though,” she admitted. “I remember being that way too. You relapse once, and you’re always afraid it’s going to happen again. When I finally hit that five-year mark last year, it felt so… surreal.”
Nick nodded, knowing just what she meant. “Back then, five years did seem like a long ways away.”
“Oh yeah. When you’re actually going through it, you have to just live one day at a time. You have to. You don’t know what you’re going to feel like tomorrow, let alone in five years. But we made it there.” She grinned, and the smile lit up her entire face. “We made it, baby.”
This time, he was the one to lean in, capturing her upturned lips in a tender kiss that lingered, even as the door handle turned and the door to the room swung open. Nick chanced opening his eyes to look past her, and there was Dr. Kingsbury in the doorway, her brows arched into a blend of surprise and amusement. He started snickering even before he broke the kiss, and when Claire followed his eyes and turned around, she giggled too, streaks of pink flaring high in her cheeks.
The oncologist just smiled, showing more patience than most. “Well, well,” she said in a rather sing-songy voice. “A lot’s happened in a year, I see. Are we back together?”
She reminded Nick of a sane version of his mother. He smirked, feeling his cheeks redden, but before he could say anything, Claire took his hand and answered proudly, “Yes we are. We’re getting married, for real this time, and don’t you dare ruin our ‘happily ever after’ ending with bad news.” She winked, and Dr. Kingsbury laughed, the crinkles around her eyes deepening.
“I’ll certainly try not to. But considering Nick just spent some time in the hospital, I don’t anticipate having to give any. This check-up’s merely a formality at this point.” Her pleasant smile became sympathetic as she turned her attention back to Nick and asked, “How have you been doing since your accident? I heard a few details here and there, but not the whole scoop.”
“I’m alright,” Nick replied, glad he could say that now. “Got a few busted ribs that are still healing, but other than that, I’m pretty good. Just waiting to get fitted for a new leg; my old one kinda got destroyed in the crash.” He smiled despite himself, picturing the mangled hunk of titanium that was currently propped up in his home studio.
“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” She folded her hands professionally and said, “Well, let’s get down to business. Before I start, if you don’t mind, I have a medical student under my wing right now. Would it be okay with you if she was present for the exam today?”
Caught by surprise, Nick nonetheless nodded. “Um, sure. That’s fine.”
Dr. Kingsbury smiled. “She might look familiar.” As she stuck her head out into the hall, Nick heard her say, “Dr. Carbeth? You can come in now.” When she came back into the room, she was joined with a younger woman in a white lab coat. Recognition struck Nick at once, and his mouth opened into a smile. It was Samantha.
“Hi, Nick,” said his favorite nurse. She tucked a piece of her auburn hair behind her ear and beamed. “Bet you didn’t expect it to be me.”
Nick had always enjoyed the melodic way in which she spoke. Her sweet, Carolinian drawl had been soothing while he was under her care in the hospital all those years ago. Now, he returned her cheerful smile. “No, I sure didn’t. Last time I saw you, you were in the NICU.”
“That’s right!” Her eyes shifted to Claire. “Speaking of the NICU… how are your girls doing?”
“Oh, they’re amazing!” exclaimed Claire. “Almost eleven months old now and crawling all over the place. Want to see pictures?” Samantha nodded eagerly, and Claire pulled her billfold out of her purse. Nick watched in amusement while both doctors gathered around Claire to admire the baby photos she carried around with her.
“Aww, they’re just too pretty for words!” Samantha cooed. “They’ve grown like weeds since I last saw them, that’s for sure!”
“They got off to a slow start, but they’re growing like crazy now,” Claire agreed. “They’re still a little behind, but hopefully in a couple years, you’ll never be able to tell they were preemies.”
“Oh yeah,” Samantha nodded, “kids are just incredible, the way they’re so resilient. I’ve seen some on this floor who have bounced back from death’s door and come back to us a year later for a check-up, looking like they’ve never been sick a day in their lives. You guys know what I’m talking about,” she added, looking from Claire to Nick.
Nick smiled. “So are you thinking of going into oncology?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m thinkin’. You know, I used to think oncology would be kind of a depressing specialty to go into, but since I started nursing on this floor, I realized how much I enjoy it. You really get to know patients here, more than you would in another field, and I like that. But I guess, at the same time, that makes it harder too,” she mused.
“The success stories are worth it,” Dr. Kingsbury chimed in, catching Nick’s eye. “And on that note… let’s get this over with so you can get out of here and go on with the rest of your life.”
Yes, thought Nick with a grin. That sounds wonderful.
***
Dr. Kingsbury did a thorough exam and ordered a rush on Nick’s bloodwork. While he and Claire waited for her to come back with the results, he thought back to all of the other times he had sat around in one of these exam rooms, waiting… worrying…
A doctor like Dr. K didn’t give good news often. There was lots of bad news, and the good stuff was always conditional. It came with warnings and provisions. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d heard his oncologist say, “We don’t use the word ‘cured’ until you’ve been in remission for five years.” Back then, five years had seemed like such a long time. And it was, when you’d had a disease that you knew could reoccur at any time.
But it hadn’t, not in five years, and here he was, waiting to hear those magic words from Dr. Kingsbury: “You’re cured.”
When she came in, carrying her usual clipboard, he saw her as he had nearly seven years ago, when she’d pursed her lips and, with a very serious look, told him, “You have cancer.” But today, she was all smiles. “Well, Nick,” she said. “No surprises. Your bloodwork looks great. I see no other reason to torture you with more tests. Your sarcoma has been in remission for five years, and I think it’s safe to say…”
She paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, and gave Nick a knowing smile. She had to know what he was thinking, that he was remembering all of the times he’d asked hopefully about a cure, and all of the times she’d had to stifle his happiness just a little with the line about “five years.”
And now, five long years since his bone cancer had spread to his lungs and nearly killed him, his oncologist spoke the words that could erase the three which had brought Nick Carter’s world crashing down. The only words that could make his suffering through chemo, radiation, surgery, and physical therapy all worth it.
“… you’re cured, Nick.”
***
It was the best news they could ask for at Christmas, and on Christmas Eve, they were still reveling in it.
Watching Nick play with Caitlin and Delaine on the floor beneath the Christmas tree, Claire realized that although it wasn’t yet morning, she’d already gotten everything she could have asked for that Christmas. She had a pair of incredible daughters, the two little miracles she thought she may never have, and they were healthy. The three of them had Nick… a father figure for the girls, and a companion for Claire. After being apart from him for far too long, she cherished their relationship more than ever, and this time, she knew it was going to be forever. And now, with Nick cured from the devastating disease that had brought them together, forever seemed likely.
And to think, a year ago, she never could have guessed it would end up like this. She thought back to the previous Christmas, as she looked at Nick. As a joke, he was wearing the red and green-striped “stump sock” she had knitted him, which was really supposed to have been a stocking hat, and the sight of it brought back memories of that Christmas Day, when she had felt like a beached whale, on bed rest for her pregnancy, and Jamie had nearly broken Nick’s jaw. Even with divorce papers in her name and Nick fresh out of the hospital, Claire thought this Christmas was guaranteed to be better than the last.
Caitlin’s shrieking laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Claire looked up to see Nick playing “airplane” with her. Lying on his back, he’d balance Cait on her tummy against the sole of his foot and lift her into the air, holding onto her outstretched hands so that she wouldn’t fall. She and Delaine both loved the game; even if they slid off his foot, they’d end up in a fit of giggles on the floor, ready to crawl back for more fun.
“One of these times, you’re gonna launch one of them into the Christmas tree,” Claire remarked, but she was only playing. She trusted Nick around her girls; he was wonderful with them. She was glad they would grow up with a stepfather to roughhouse on the floor with them. That was just such a “Dad” thing to do, and Nick did it well.
“Well, then, they’d make two pretty ornaments, wouldn’t they?” Nick teased back, sitting up and scooping both girls into his lap. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” was on TV, and they both watched the cartoon in fascination for a few minutes, giving Nick some quiet time. As they watched, Claire found herself unable to take her eyes off of them. Caitlin was the spitting image of her as a baby, with huge blue eyes and fine, wispy red hair. Her hair certainly had more curl to it than Claire ever remembered her own having, and she wondered if Cait would take after Jamie in that respect. Delaine had definitely gotten her hair from Jamie; it was dark, almost black, dramatic-looking set against her pale pink skin and blue eyes. She would grow up to be striking.
Hair color aside, the girls’ faces looked nearly identical, but Claire figured this would change as they got older. They were, after all, only fraternal twins – no more closely related than any two siblings. And although they looked alike, she marveled at how different they were in personality, even now. Caitlin was the more easygoing of the two, but she was also the loudest and most outgoing. She had skipped right on through the fear of strangers phase, taking to Nick almost instantly. Delaine had taken longer and still cried whenever Claire left the room. She was a quieter baby, but fussier too. Sometimes Claire worried that she was sick or in pain, but she laughed and played quite a bit too, and the pediatrician assured her there was nothing wrong. Lainey was just a different baby from Cait. She imagined they would grow up to be quite different too.
By the time the Whos down in Whoville were singing on Christmas Day, Cait was rubbing her eyes with her fists, and Delaine was already asleep, her head lolled in the crook of Nick’s arm. Smiling, Claire said softly, “Looks like a couple of girls are ready to go to bed so Santa can come.”
She knew her daughters didn’t really understand most of what she said yet and hadn’t a clue what “Santa” meant, but that hadn’t stopped her from talking about Santa Claus and Rudolph ever since they’d put up the tree at Nick’s house. It was their first Christmas, and she wanted to do it right. She and Nick had spent a lot of time singing Christmas carols, too – “Jingle Bells” had proven to be a favorite, whether it was the real version or Nick’s “Batman smells” rendition. “Silent Night” and “Away in a Manger” made good lullabies.
“They’re fading fast,” Nick agreed, returning the smile as he glanced down at the two babies.
Claire got up from the couch and bent to pick up Cait. She carried the baby into the bedroom, where she had set up both of their bassinets. The sleeping situation wasn’t as ideal as it had been in the condo, where the two cribs were, but they could make do until she finished moving after the holidays. For now, she lay Cait down in the bassinet and turned on the iCrib mp3 player Nick and Laureen had given her last Christmas, hoping the soft music would soothe her daughter to sleep. Then she went back for Lainey.
“’Night, baby girl,” Nick was murmuring when she returned, and she smiled as she watched him bend over and place a gentle kiss on Lainey’s forehead. The baby stirred, but didn’t awaken, and somehow she managed to stay asleep as Claire carefully picked her up and carried her to her bassinet.
With the twins quiet in their beds, Claire came back out to the living room. Nick was still sitting on the floor by the tree, where a modest array of presents were piled. Most of them were for the girls, but Claire had bought a few things for Nick as well, and the almost daily stops by the FedEx truck over the past week ensured her that he had done some shopping of his own.
“C’mere,” he said to her now, patting a spot on the carpet. As she sank down beside him, he turned off the TV. “Grinch is over… kids are asleep… time for you and me to get into the Christmas spirit ourselves, don’tcha think?” He wriggled his eyebrows, and his tongue slipped out between his teeth, running smoothly over his top lip.
“Why, Nick Carter, was that a sexual innuendo?” Claire asked sarcastically, playing dumb. “Are you talking dirty to me on Christmas Eve?”
“Darn… you caught me.” He smirked, his eyes devilish. “Guess I’m goin’ on the naughty list.”
“Oh, you bad boy… You’re gonna find a lump of coal with your name on it in the morning.”
“Can’t you just spank me instead?”
Claire couldn’t keep a straight face anymore; she burst out laughing. The “bad boy,” “spank me” stuff just wasn’t a turn-on, although that sexy smirk he was doing, with the one eyebrow arched… well, that was just plain hot. “C’mere, naughty boy,” she said, leaning in to kiss him. Her lips soon wiped the smirk right off his face.
They made out beneath the tree, but skipped the love-making and snuggled up in a big, fleece blanket instead. Claire wished there was a fireplace to curl up in front of, but it was cozy enough with Nick’s arms and the warm blanket around her, the room dark but for the glow of the shimmering Christmas tree. It was sixty degrees outside, but inside, they could pretend they were in a snowbound cabin, far up north. After what had happened in Iowa, Claire was more than content to just pretend, and she was sure Nick would agree.
In the multicolored light, she traced over the crescent-shaped bruise that extended across his bare chest, a perfect imprint of the steering wheel he’d collided into. It had been almost a month since the crash, and although the bruise had faded to a sickly gradient of yellow and purple, it was still quite visible. So were the burns on his torso, but those had healed to the point where they only looked like sunburn now. Several small holes from chest tubes were still scabbed over; they would leave scars, to match the ones he already had from his last lung surgery. Battle wounds, she called them.
But the battles were over now. The war had been won.
She placed a kiss in the center of his chest, over his heart. His skin felt warm against her mouth. “I love you, Nick,” she murmured, lifting her head to meet his lips.
“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing her sweetly. “I’ve got something for you. I think you should open it tonight… so you’ll have it when we see your family tomorrow.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So is it something I can wear?”
“May-be.”
“Hm… but not sexy lingerie… because it’s something my family would want to see. Is it clothes, or jewelry?”
“It’s a pair of tube socks, alright? Now stop guessing and let me find it.”
She watched in amusement as he got on his hands and knee and started crawling painfully beneath the tree, shoving presents aside right and left. “Here,” he grunted finally, emerging with a smallish-sized box. Sadly, it did look the perfect size to hold a pair of tube socks. And it was light, too, she realized when he handed it to her.
“You were kidding about the socks, weren’t you?” she asked as tore off the silver wrapping paper. “Are they at least Christmas socks?”
She wasn’t really expecting socks of any kind, but inside the box she found… another box.
It was a jewelry box. A small, square-shaped, velvet-covered jewelry box. Which could only mean one of two things: earrings or a ring. She already had a guess in her mind when she flipped open the box. And sure enough…
It was a ring.
But not just any ring. It was her ring. Platinum milgrain band, adorned with sparkling, canary yellow diamonds, set with an oval-shaped, one-and-a-half carat diamond she had chosen herself. It was her engagement ring, designed by Nick and her together, and she hadn’t set eyes upon it since she’d placed it on his doorstep four years ago. She had never thought to ask what had become of it… but here he had kept it, all of this time, just waiting for the day when he could give it back to her.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Nick… I don’t know what to say.”
All she could think of was another apology, for what she’d done to him back then, but before she could get one out, he replied, “Say you still like the ring, ‘cause I spent good money on that thing.”
He grinned, and she burst out laughing. “You know I love it!” she cried. “It’s even more gorgeous than I remembered. I hope it still fits… my fingers swelled when I was pregnant with the twins.”
“Well, let’s find out.”
Nick plucked the ring out of its box, and Claire held out her left hand. It had felt rather naked after she’d first lost her bandages, used to holding the Claddagh ring Jamie had given her. She was just starting to get used to going without a ring. But when Nick slid the engagement ring onto her finger, she felt as if a missing piece of her had been put back into place. It was a perfect fit.
“It’s perfect,” she told Nick, admiring the way the diamonds twinkled in the colored lights of the tree. “Absolutely beautiful. Thank you, Nick.”
“No. Thank you.”
“For what?” Claire asked, and Nick’s next words made her feel even guiltier.
“For coming back to me.”
***
That Christmas had been the best one Nick had had in at least five years. Despite the fact that he was still recovering from the accident and was without his artificial leg, he had enjoyed himself, going with Claire and the twins over to Kyle and Amber’s house to spend Christmas Day with her family. It was there that she announced their re-engagement, flashing around the canary diamond ring he had saved for her.
Nick had worried about their reaction. He had always seen Claire’s parents as rather conservative Catholics who were very protective of her, and he wasn’t sure how they would react to her getting into another serious relationship so soon after her divorce, let alone remarrying. But, to his relief, they took the news well, offering their congratulations and welcoming Nick into the family.
That Christmas, he realized later, had just been a preview of what was to come. By the following Christmas, he and Claire would be married, and Cait and Lainey would be his stepdaughters. Finally, he would join Brian, Kevin, and even AJ in having a family of his own.
More than ever, the coming of the new year represented change, a second chance and a fresh start for them both. It was 2010, the beginning of a new decade and a new life together. Nick welcomed the changes the new year had in store for him.
As he and Claire recovered from the holidays, Nick started to think more and more about those changes. Claire and the twins would be moving in soon, and once they did, everything would be different. He knew it wasn’t going to be just like it had been when Claire had lived there before. Now there would be two babies in the house, and Nick wanted to share in the role of taking care of them. Even if he wasn’t their biological father, he wanted Caitlin and Delaine to grow up viewing him as a parent. He knew that Jamie, as their true father, would always be a part of their lives, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be the best stepdad imaginable. He wanted to be everything Jamie hadn’t been – caring, compassionate, and most of all, present. He was going to be there for the girls when they needed him, and he didn’t want to miss a single moment of their lives.
But it wouldn’t be easy. Halfway into January, the guys started calling, with plans of getting back into the studio to finish up their next album. It was almost done, and then they would begin the promotional work and, after that, the tour. If all went as planned, this year would be a busy one. Lots of time spent out of town and on the road, away from the house in Tampa. Away from Claire and the girls. As much as Nick loved performing, the thought left a bad taste in his mouth. He would be absent while Claire made wedding plans, and while Cait and Lainey grew from babies into toddlers. He would be missing so much. And that would never really change. Every two years or so, it would be the same.
For the first time, he truly understood how Kevin had felt when he’d decided to leave the group. Up until then, a part of Nick had resented their oldest member for deserting them, for choosing his new family over a fifteen-year career with his four brothers. He’d actually thought Kevin was being selfish. He had felt betrayed.
Now he knew the battle that must have raged in Kevin’s mind. Should he stick with his lucrative career, a career he had been lucky enough to have success in for so long, and miss out on some priceless moments with his family, or should he give it all up for the people he loved most and risk disappointing those who had supported his music? It was a hard decision, and Nick spent an hour on the phone with Kevin one night lamenting over it.
“Nick, I’m not gonna tell you what you should do,” said Kevin in his patient drawl. “It’s different for everyone. Brian found the balance between a music career and his family, so you know it can work, if you and Claire make it work. But I didn’t want that for Kris and me. I didn’t want to have to constantly juggle my career and her and our son. It was all or nothin’, I guess. But that’s just me. What you need to do, Nick, is figure out what’s gonna work for you. What do you want? Go with your gut, kid; that’s all the advice I can give ya.”
And Nick appreciated it. Even though it would have been easier to have Kevin tell him what he should do, it was enough just to have someone who understood the predicament he was in, the decision he was going to have to make. He knew that if he decided to follow Kevin’s path and leave the group, that would be it for the Backstreet Boys. They wouldn’t continue on with just three. If he left them now, he’d be killing the group. But if he stayed, what would he be doing to his family?
His commitments as a Backstreet Boy had driven a wedge in between Claire and him once. She swore she was different now, less selfish, but even so, he didn’t want to risk it happening again. He couldn’t blame her for being upset when he’d been gone all the time. And with twin babies to raise on her own, he would blame her even less now. She needed him… and he needed to be with her.
And so he made a decision.
***
Near the end of January, they took the twins to Leonardi’s for the first time. Nick requested their old booth, the wrap-around in the back corner. It had always seemed too big for just two people, really, but with a diaper bag to fill the space between Claire and Nick and two high chairs set up on the open side of the table, it was perfect.
Cait and Lainey, having just celebrated their first birthday, gummed happily on breadsticks, while Nick and Claire shared their favorite – a large pepperoni and sausage with extra cheese, milkshakes on the side. The pizza had proven too spicy for the babies, but they had taken a liking to the milkshakes. Nick would hold his glass for Lainey and let her drink, laughing as he watched her pink lips working vigorously against the straw, her cheeks puckering inward as she tried to suck the thick shake. Cait loved Claire’s shake so much that she had taken to squealing and reaching for it whenever Claire set it down.
“No. No more,” Claire finally had to say, with a touch of sternness in her voice. “You drink any more, and you’re gonna be puking milkshake in the car. Besides… Mommy likes her shake too.” Turning away from Cait, she took a lengthy sip, making an obnoxious sucking noise, and winked at Nick over the rim of her glass. “What??” she asked, licking her lips, when she saw him shaking his head.
“You’re cruel. Just downright cruel,” he teased, trying hard to keep a straight face. “Keeping a milkshake from your little girl.”
“You tellin’ me you’re okay with chocolate vomit spewed all over your backseat? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” she added, when he wrinkled his nose.
“Sorry, Lainey girl… your mom’s right,” Nick said, easing his shake away from Delaine. He was thankful she didn’t shriek like Cait. Setting his milkshake down out of her reach, he helped himself to another piece of pizza. Between bites, he asked, “So… you workin’ tomorrow?”
“Yeah…”
Nick nodded; Claire had gone back to work at the dentist’s office after New Year’s, though he’d noticed her schedule had changed quite a bit from the one he remembered. She only worked a few days a week now and could stay at home with the twins on her days off. In the beginning, she had dropped the girls off at Amber’s house on her way to work, but now that Nick was more mobile, he had volunteered to watch them while she worked.
“… it’s going to be my last day though.”
Nick blinked; he’d been spacing out. Had he heard her correctly? “What? Did you say it’s your last day?”
“Yep.” Claire smiled. “I put in my two weeks’ notice two weeks ago.”
“But why??” Nick was surprised; after all the bickering they used to do over her working, the last thing he expected was for her to quit her job. She had always talked of being a working mom, not a June Cleaver housewife.
Claire sighed. “You know… I used to love that job. And it’s still a good job, as far as jobs go, but I just haven’t been as happy there ever since I went back last year. I don’t think it’s the job, though. It’s me. It just kills me to have to leave Cait and Lainey with someone else all day, every day. I feel like I’m missing out on so much. They’re going to start walking soon, you know… and saying their first words… and I don’t wanna miss that! Those are milestones! These are my children, my only two children; I don’t want to miss the important parts of their lives. When they get older, I want to be able to tell them what their first words were, the words I heard them say for myself. I don’t want it to be hearsay from Amber. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course,” said Nick, nodding. “I get you.”
She offered a tight smile. “I always wanted to have a career – don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t expect to be a single mom, working through my kids’ first year of life. When I was with Jamie, we had it all worked out – that he would support the family, and I would stay at home until they were a little older, and then I’d go back to work too. But without him, I just couldn’t do that.”
“But now…” Nick prompted, grinning.
She returned the grin. “Now I’m with you. And before you say anything, I know that before, I always said that I wanted to work, that I liked making my own income and supporting myself and all of that. And that’s still true. But… I think I’ve got my priorities sorted out a little bit better now.” Swallowing, she looked at him with sincerity. “Life’s too short for me to spend my time working a job I don’t need just because I’m too self-righteous to live off a man’s income. So I’m getting off the high horse, Nick, and I’m quitting my job, and I’m going to be there for you and Cait and Lainey, whenever you need me. Whenever you want me. When you go to LA, we’ll go with you. When you go on tour, we’ll crowd your tour bus. I don’t wanna deal with all of that separation shit again. I wanna be with you, every step of the way.”
She beamed, and Nick stared at her in shock. At first, he was elated, but then a prickly feeling crept into his stomach. Her timing was so, so wrong, it was almost funny. “Um, Claire? That’s… that’s awesome, but… I think there’s something you should know first.”
The smile dropped off her face. “What?”
Nick supplied a sheepish grin. “I quit the Backstreet Boys.”
“What?!” Claire stared, her eyes wide. “Are you for real?” When he nodded, she shook her head. “Why??”
Nick cleared his throat. “Well… I guess my priorities have changed too. Like you said, life’s too short. I don’t wanna spend it on a tour bus, thousands of miles from home. I want to spend it with you. So I talked to the guys, and we’re gonna finish this one last album together, do a short tour, and then… that’s it. We’ve been together seventeen years, and it’s been an awesome ride, but we all have other things going on, and people who need us. I’d rather just be a good husband and a dad than a Backstreet Boy the rest of my life.”
The smile returned to her face. “Aw, Nick… that’s so sweet. But you don’t have to do that. And I know you don’t really want to, do you? I thought you loved touring!”
“I do. But not as much as I love you.”
“Well, I love you too. But I didn’t quit my job so you could quit yours. I quit it so that I could be a part of yours. If you quit too, then we’ll just be a pair of unemployed losers.”
Nick laughed, and the prickling in his stomach subsided, as the stirrings of happiness began to bubble. “So what are you saying? That I should call the guys and say I changed my mind?”
“No. Here’s what I think you should say…” Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling for a moment, as if she were searching for the right words. Then she looked back into his face, her eyes sparkling mischievously, and said, in a voice that he somehow thought was mocking him, “Yo, this Backstreet’s back… if you’ll have me back.”
He laughed, mostly because the joke was completely lame. “I love you,” he grinned, gazing upon her fondly.
She flashed a cheesy smile back. “I know.”
When they left the restaurant, it was still light outside, and though it was January, the weather was a pleasant seventy degrees. “We should take a walk when we get home,” Nick suggested on the drive back to his place. He had taken lots of walks since getting his new prosthesis, putting the twins in their stroller and taking them up and down the street or along the beach. The girls both loved being outside, and it was good exercise for Nick, who had been going crazy without his leg.
Gazing out the window, Claire nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s do it.”
They drove quietly for a few minutes, listening to the radio and the sounds of the twins babbling in the backseat. Then Claire said, “Hey, how about taking that walk now?”
“Huh?”
“Turn left here.”
Nick had just enough time to swerve into the left turn lane. He turned at the light, and Claire pointed. “Now make a right.”
“The cemetery??” He had turned off the main road, but hesitated at the entrance to Oaklawn Cemetery. “You want us to take a walk here?”
Claire shrugged. “Why not? It’s pretty. I think we should.”
“Okay…” He pulled on through the archway and followed the path into the cemetery, driving slowly. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?” He didn’t have a clue where he was going; he hadn’t been inside this cemetery’s gates in years. Not since Casey Brenner had been buried there.
Suddenly, Nick understood.
“Casey, right? You wanna go to Casey’s…”
“Yeah,” Claire said shortly. He glanced over and found her staring out the window, chewing on her bottom lip.
Memory guided him to the section where Casey was buried. He parked along the curb, and as he climbed out, taking a moment to get his footing on the grass, he remembered coming here for the funeral, four years ago. The grounds had been packed with mourners that day, Casey’s young classmates among them. But today, the burial plot was deserted.
They hadn’t packed the stroller, so Claire and Nick each picked up one of the twins and carried them along a winding walkway that led them closer to Casey’s grave. As they walked, it occurred to Nick that he’d never actually seen Casey’s tombstone. The last time he’d been in this place, he’d been looking at the casket instead.
Claire, on the other hand, seemed to know right where to go. She led them off the path, and they walked through the grass, passing rows of modest headstones. Most were still sleek with newness, and a quick glance at some of the dates confirmed that these were fairly recent burials, people who had died in the last decade. They came upon a small slab of white granite set into the ground, and it was there that Claire stopped.
Looking down, Nick felt a hard lump swell in his throat as he read the engraved inscription.
April 4, 1994 – January 10, 2006
At peace in the arms of Jesus
He held Delaine a little tighter, until wisps of her black hair tickled his cheek, and he thought of the dark-haired, dark-eyed little boy who had wanted to be a pilot and died before he turned twelve. No words could express how he felt right then. Yet when he chanced a glance at Claire, he found her on her knees beside him, among the flowers that had been left around the base of the headstone, murmuring something too soft to decipher. A prayer, he thought, taking in the sight of her bowed head, her hair falling forward. She was silent for a moment; then she made the sign of the cross and rose slowly.
He set Delaine down in the soft grass next to Caitlin and put his hand on Claire’s shoulder. When she turned towards him, he expected to see tears in her eyes, but they were surprisingly clear. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I’m okay. Are you?”
He shrugged. “I guess so. It’s just kinda weird, being here.”
“I think it’s peaceful. I’ve come here before when I’ve just needed to think. It’s a good place to get your priorities straight. When you see the headstones of all these people, especially young people like Casey, people who didn’t get a chance to live out a long life, you remember to live yours to the fullest.”
Nick stared at her, in awe of both how reflective she was and how different they were. He never would have dreamed of coming to a cemetery to sit and think. Being here depressed him, and he told her so. “Doesn’t it make you feel… I dunno, sort of… guilty… to stand here and think about how you’ve lived the last four years to the fullest when he’ll never get four more years?” He wasn’t trying to make her feel guilty, but looking at the narrow scope of dates etched into the granite stone before him, that was how he felt.
Casey had been a cancer victim, just like him. They’d both gone into remission, they’d both relapsed, and yet Nick had been cured, and Casey had died. It seemed so unfair, so cruel.
“Survivor’s guilt,” Claire said knowingly, offering a tight smile. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve felt that way too, especially right after he died. But you know, Nick, no one resents you for living. You know Casey wouldn’t. It’s the survivors that give hope to the ones who are going through it. And we are survivors, you and me.” With a strange intensity in her eyes, she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We can’t feel guilty about living. We just have to be grateful and go out there and make our lives worth it.” She paused, then added, with a wink, “You can start by marrying me.”
Nick grinned and squeezed her hand back. “That’s a great place to start,” he agreed.
They spent a few more minutes standing at Casey’s grave, while the twins played contentedly in the grass at their feet. “I wish we’d thought to bring flowers,” said Claire, gesturing to the wilting bouquets others had left.
“We will another time,” Nick vowed. “Come on… we should go.”
Claire nodded and bent to scoop up Cait. Nick picked up Lainey, and they set off slowly in the direction they had come. “I think I want tropical flowers at our wedding,” Claire commented off-handedly as they walked. “You know, something with bright colors… yellows and oranges and pinks…”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Nick said with a smile.
“… but then, just a bouquet of yellow roses would be nice too. Beautiful, yet simple. I like simple.”
“I know.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like the wedding to be simple too. I’ve done the whole big Catholic church wedding, and looking back, I don’t think it was worth it.”
Nick snorted. “Well, no. You didn’t even stay married to the guy for a year.”
Claire smiled sheepishly. “Yeah… but even if I had, I’d still think it was overrated. Don’t get me wrong, it was a beautiful wedding, and I enjoyed every minute of it, but when I think back to all of the planning and all of the money that went into it, just for one day, it seems ridiculous. Especially for a marriage that was doomed to fail. And hell, half of them do these days.”
Nick nodded. “We’re gonna beat those odds, just so you know,” he informed her with a wink. “But seriously, Claire, we can have whatever kind of wedding you want. It’s not the wedding I care about. It’s you. As long as I’m marrying you, I’ll be happy with anything.”
She beamed, but replied, “I want it to be perfect for both of us, though. I was thinking maybe we could skip the whole church thing and just get married on the beach. A small, simple wedding, you know, with just our families and close friends there. How would that sound?”
Picturing the two of them saying their vows on a beach, with the sea breeze in their hair and the roar of the tide in the background, brought a huge smile to Nick’s face. Even though he could afford to go all out and give Claire a lavish, fairytale wedding that would grace the pages of Life & Style magazine, he knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be them. He’d fallen in love with Claire because she was down to earth, because she was laidback, and because she was real. Forget all the fancies and formalities; they should have a ceremony that fit them. Not a fairytale wedding, but a wedding that was real.
Grinning, he boosted Delaine onto his hip and reached for her hand. “That sounds perfect.”
The sun was setting as they walked back to the car, hand in hand. As he drove them home, Nick kept looking into the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of the twins in the backseat. Caitlin had fallen asleep, her head lolling on her chest, while Delaine was content to play with her fingers. He smiled, unable to imagine anything else so perfect. Then he glanced over at their mother.
“What?” Claire asked, giving him a suspicious look.
Nick shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied simply, returning his eyes to the road. As they headed down Bayshore Boulevard, the waters of Tampa Bay sparkling in the sunset outside Nick’s window, he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers. Moments later, he felt her thumb rubbing over his knuckles, and he smiled.
The date was January 28, 2010, Nick Carter’s thirtieth birthday, and he felt on top of the world.
I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn’t see how every sign pointed straight to you
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you
I think about the years I spent just passing through
I’d like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You’ve been there; you understand
It’s all part of a grander plan that is coming true
Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you
- “Bless the Broken Road” by Rascal Flatts
***
