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Chapter 29

Claire awoke the next morning with butterflies in her stomach and couldn’t tell if they were from nerves or excitement. Probably a little of both. She couldn’t wait until she was moved in and Nick was home to share the house with her, but she had to admit, a part of her had her doubts. What if it didn’t work out? What if they tried their new living situation for a week and discovered that they drove each other crazy, that they couldn’t stand actually living together? It was a depressing thought, but she had to look at it realistically – she knew it was not going to be like some endless honeymoon. Whether she was living on her own or in Nick’s luxurious home, they were both still a part of the real world.

“Stop being so cynical,” she scolded herself as she sat up in bed, running a hand through her tangled hair and suddenly wishing for some of the innocence and naivety she’d possessed as a teenager, before the realities of the world had jaded her. She couldn’t go into this situation with doubts in her mind; she had to believe it was going to work, or it wouldn’t. And there was really no reason why it shouldn’t. She loved Nick, he loved her, and on top of that, they were best friends. Friends who had fun together, who understood each other, and who were in love with one another.

As Nick himself had said, living together should be a piece of cake.

Smiling assuredly to herself, Claire climbed out of bed. A long day of moving loomed ahead of her, and the sight of all the cardboard boxes stacked on the floor of her bare apartment was overwhelming. Stepping around them, she found the clothes she’d laid out for herself the night before – the only clothes that she hadn’t crammed into a suitcase or box – and dressed quickly, hoping the tank top and cotton workout shorts would keep her reasonably cool. How dumb was she, deciding to move during a Florida summer?

Thank God for air conditioning and Nick’s pool, she thought, pulling a pair of white ankle socks over her feet and padding into her bathroom. The tiny room had been stripped of all her belongings, except for the bare necessities for getting ready that morning – hairbrush and hairtie, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a half-empty bottle of face wash. She used them all, then scooped them up and carried them out to deposit in one of the boxes that was not yet full. Re-closing the cardboard flaps, she looked around. “That’s it,” she murmured out loud, her eyes searching every nook and cranny of her small apartment, which suddenly seemed so much bigger now that it was empty.

Now all she had to do was wait for her dad and Kyle, who were both due to arrive anytime. They would load all of her belongings in the rented moving van, Kyle’s truck, and her car, and drive to Nick’s, where Howie was supposed to meet them. Howie was the only one with a key to Nick’s house; in the chaos of Nick’s unexpected hospital stay, he had not had the chance to give her one, and of course she hadn’t kept the one he’d offered her when he had first asked her to move in with him.

A sudden loud knock on her door startled her, but she quickly broke into a smile, recognizing the booming knock as her father’s. Right on time, she thought and hurried to open the door.

***

“So this is the place, huh?”

Claire looked over at her father, who had just climbed out of the big moving van and come up to stand beside her, his eyes roaming over the large house that stretched across merely a portion of Nick’s vast expanse of property. “Yep,” she answered, her own eyes traveling up to the house. Nick’s house, and a place she could now call home as well.

“It’s nice,” Kris Ryan commented, nodding in approval, although Claire got the impression it made him slightly uncomfortable. She understood. Her family had always been upper-middle class, well off enough to live comfortably and splurge every now and then, but not “rich.” Nick was rich, and it had taken her awhile to adjust to that and realize that despite his money and fame, he was really just a normal guy. She hoped the rest of her family had seen that about him too, but she knew it might take some getting used to. Her father in particular was not crazy about the idea of her getting this serious with a celebrity, but she knew that had nothing to do with Nick himself. He was just doing what he’d always done best – trying to protect her, even now that she was an adult and had been on her own for years. She couldn’t be too hard on him for that.

Kyle came trundling up the long driveway in his pick-up truck as they stood looking at the house, and at the same time, another car door opened and closed, and a familiar voice called, “Good morning!”

Claire grinned at Howie; she hadn’t even noticed him waiting in his car for them at the other side of the driveway. He waved and immediately trotted over to meet them. “Hey you,” she said when he got there, reaching out to give him a big hug. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Claire,” Howie replied, offering her one of his friendly smiles. “You look great.”

“Thanks, you do too! I want you to meet my dad, Kris Ryan. And my brother, Kyle,” she added, as Kyle walked up to join them. “Guys, this is Howie Dorough.”

The three men shook hands, and then Claire said, “Well… should we get started? I’m anxious to get all this crap moved in and start figuring out where to put it all.”

Howie chuckled and started to nod, then stopped. “Oh, wait!” he said, his eyes lighting up momentarily. “I’ve got something for you in my car, Claire. Hang on while I get it.” He jogged back to his car and returned a few seconds later with a large envelope, which he handed to her without a word. Curious, she opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of plain white paper, folded carefully into thirds. She unfolded it, expecting a letter, and instead found a picture. A drawing, more precisely, done simply in pencil and carefully filled in and shaded with colored pencils. It was cartoony and comic book-ish, but she quickly realized the two smiling people in the picture were meant to be her and Nick. The man was tall and flaxen-haired, with vivid blue eyes, extra-chiseled features, and (Claire couldn’t help but smile) a body that was ripped with muscles, as shown by the plain white wifebeater and black shorts he was drawn in. Yet, despite the obvious exaggerations, she noticed that his left leg was metallic, drawn in a way that made it look cool, giving him a Terminator/I, Robot sort of look.

And in the illustrated Nick’s muscular arms, being held baby-style, was the illustrated version of her. Her eyes poured over it in wonder, entranced with the beauty with which she’d been drawn. Her red hair was long and flowing (ha, she only wished it had that much body) and her blue eyes bright and sparkling. Her body looked like a Barbie doll’s, with a tiny waist and huge boobs (those things had to be at least double D’s – ha, as if!), right down to the pointed toes that extended from shapely, dangling legs, and she was dressed in a top that showed off lots of cleavage and midriff and what appeared to be a miniskirt. But even with the exaggerations and flat-out falsities, Claire was downright flattered by the portrayal.

At the bottom of the paper, below the drawing, was a short, hand-written note.

Claire,

It’s killing me to not be with you today, but you know I’d be there to carry you across the threshold if I could. Haha, could you picture that? Well, just look above, and now you can! J I just want you to know that I love you, and it’s knowing that when I come home, I’ll be coming home to you that’s keeping me from going crazy here. This house is yours too now, and I want you to make yourself at home – make it feel like your own. Here is the key you wouldn’t keep the first time I tried to give it to you – but you better keep it this time, woman! Good luck with the move, and hopefully I’ll see you later today.

Love ya,
Nick

Reading the note over again, her eyes shooting back up to the drawing between sentences, Claire found herself overcome with sudden emotion. A cartoon and a note – such a simple gesture, but she could think of nothing sweeter. It was homemade and personal, and at that moment, she could think of no other gift from a man that had touched her so much.

“What is it?” Kyle asked finally, and she looked up to find him, her father, and Howie all staring at her.

She smiled and just shook her head, then reached back into the envelope and pulled out something she had not noticed earlier – a small, silver key, identical to the one Nick had given her weeks ago at Leonardi’s. “Here’s a key to the house,” she said, her voice surprisingly hoarse. She swallowed hard before adding, “Let’s go inside; I can show you guys around a little bit before we start bringing stuff in.”

She led the way up to Nick’s doorstep and stuck the key into the lock on the front door. She heard a soft click as the door unlocked and turned the knob to let herself in. It felt strange to open the door and not see Nick standing there, or at least hear his voice calling to her as she walked in. It felt even stranger to realize that this would soon become habit, that in letting herself into his house, she’d be coming home.

“Home sweet home, huh?” said Howie, smiling at her.

“It will be,” she replied, smiling back. “It feels like it’s missing something right now though.”

“Yeah? Would that something be about 6’2” and blonde?”

“That would be it,” Claire said wryly. Howie winked.

Leaving the foyer, they both led her father and brother through the rest of the house. It felt weird to be giving them a guided tour when Nick was not even there, but Nick had made it clear that she was to start thinking of this house as her home too, so she tried to get used to it. They kept the tour brief, merely popping their heads into various rooms in the house, and then went back outside, where all of Claire’s possessions were waiting to be brought in.

“Well,” said her father, resting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, “You ready to start hauling stuff in?”

“Yes,” replied Claire eagerly. “The sooner we can get all of this inside, the better.”

With that, the four of them set to work.

***

The work went as smoothly as Claire could have hoped for, and by noon, everything had been brought into the house. Claire had directed the men on where to put the heavy things, and they all had sorted through her labeled boxes, taking each box to the room in which Claire thought its contents should belong. She had already decided she would leave most of her stuff, everything but the necessities, boxed up until Nick got home – that way, they could go through everything together and decide where it all should go.

With the move itself out of the way, they ordered take-out for lunch and sent Kyle to pick it up. When he returned, they spread the food out across the island in Nick’s kitchen and perched on tall stools around it to eat. Conversation flowed easily throughout lunch. Although Howie didn’t have much in common with Kris and Kyle, the three of them got along well. Claire was not surprised; Howie, she had decided, was the kind of person you just couldn’t help but like, and of course she thought the same of her father and brother.

Kris and Kyle left an hour later, after making sure Claire didn’t need them for anything else. She assured them she was plenty capable of unpacking everything herself and sent them on their way, which left just her and Howie at the house. They stood together on the porch, watching as her father drove the moving van up the driveway after Kyle’s truck, and once both vehicles had disappeared from view, they turned to each other.

“So…” Howie started, offering a casual shrug. “What’s on your agenda for the rest of the day? Are you going to start with the unpacking yet, or go see Nick, or what?”

“Unpacking, no, probably not. I’ll just unpack what I need for now and save the rest for when Nick’s home – hopefully tomorrow,” Claire answered. “And speaking of Blondie, yeah, I’m definitely gonna go to the hospital at some point. How about you? Got any plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’ve got some stuff to do later this evening… just, uh, dinner… with a friend, and stuff like that. But I thought maybe I’d head up to the hospital to see Nicky beforehand.”

Claire nodded. “We could go visit him together, if you want. Or if you’d rather be alone-“

“No, uh… that would be good,” Howie said, then paused and added after a few beats, “or maybe it’d work out better if you went up around dinnertime. Then he wouldn’t get stuck eating alone.”

“Good point,” Claire nodded. “I guess I’ll hang around here for the afternoon then and go see Nick tonight. Hm, maybe I could try to bake something for him… you know, cookies or something like that. To make up for the crappy hospital food.”

Howie smiled. “That’s a good idea; he’d love that. Plus, then you could get used to his kitchen.”

She snorted, “Not like I’ll be in it much… I’m not much of a cook.” She offered a shrug and a sheepish grin to go along with it. “Maybe I should work on that though… do you think he’ll expect me to be June Cleaver and cook and clean for him now that he’s sharing his house with me?” She snickered at the mere idea of it. Her – June Cleaver? Ha.

Howie chuckled too. “I dunno about that, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn how to cook something. What will you two do, live off of TV dinners and Kraft macaroni and cheese?”

“Pretty much,” she smiled. “Anything frozen and microwaveable is right up my speed.” Howie simply shook his head at her, grinning in amusement. “What?” she challenged, “Don’t even tell me you’re some master chef.”

“Hey, I know my way around a kitchen,” Howie defended himself. “I’m a lot better than Nick anyway – that kid would starve without fast food and frozen dinners.”

“But not you, huh?” Claire asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she watched with intrigue as he shook his head. A man… a celebrity, in fact… who knew how to cook. Imagine that. Maybe she was a fool to be moving in with Nick – Howie was the one she should be living with. She chuckled to herself, then said, “Well, maybe you could give me a few pointers.”

“Hey, anytime,” he offered with a friendly smile. “In fact, if you want any help baking today, I’d be glad to stick around. I really do know my way around Nicky’s kitchen, after living here for nine months.”

“That could be fun… if you don’t mind,” she said cautiously, not wanting to keep him from anything. “The kitchen here is freaking huge compared to the one in my apartment, if you could even call that a kitchen. It’s no wonder I rarely cooked.”

Howie laughed and said, “Well, come on, let’s go play chef, and you’ll know where everything is in no time.”

They went into the house, and Howie led the way back to Nick’s spacious, modern kitchen. “So, what do you wanna bake?” he asked.

“Cookies would be good,” she said. Those always seemed simple enough, although hers usually came out slightly burnt on the bottom. She blamed her oven, but that excuse would probably not fly here – Nick’s oven had to be state of the art.

“Okay,” Howie nodded. “What kind?”

She liked sugar cookies, but knew that those took a long time – they had to be chilled before they could be baked. Precisely the reason she rarely made them herself. “Well, you’re the head cook here… what do you think?”

“Hm… what about oatmeal raisin?”

Claire couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. “Oatmeal raisin? I was thinking something a little more… chocolaty.”

Howie chuckled. “Nick would probably say the same thing himself, but I was just thinking that since he’s in the hospital and all, maybe we should go for something healthier.”

She smiled. “This from the guy who was trying to get him to eat McDonald’s two days after surgery.” She remembered that day quite vividly – it was the first time she’d met Howie, AJ, and Kevin, although that was not why she remembered it.

“Hey, that was AJ’s idea, not mine,” Howie replied, holding up his hands as if to ward off any responsibility for sneaking Nick what had to be just about the worst food for him.

She laughed. “Well, at any rate, a little chocolate won’t kill him. I say we go for chocolate chip or something like that. Not too rich, but… better than oatmeal raisin.” She grinned, her tongue poking between her teeth.

“Hey,” said Howie, “I happen to like oatmeal raisin. But okay, we’ll go chocolate chip.”

With that decision finally made, they set to work, searching the large kitchen for ingredients, which they lined up on one of the counters. Following the Tollhouse recipe off the back of a bag of chocolate chips, they mixed up the dough and glopped it onto a cookie sheet in small mounds. The cookies-to-be didn’t look much different than they did when Claire made them herself, but when Howie took them out of the oven later, she saw that they were soft and thick and browned to perfection, unlike the thin and crispy, stick-to-the-sheet, burnt ones she usually ended up with. Maybe it was the oven after all. (Or Howie’s careful supervision.)

After putting another pan into the oven to bake, they lined up the fresh cookies on a sheet of wax paper to cool. While the second pan baked, they grabbed sodas from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table to visit as they waited. When the cookies were done, Howie took them out of the oven and shut it off. Turning to Claire, he said, “Well, now that that’s done… mind if I head up to the hospital? Then I can keep Nick company for a couple of hours before I… before my dinner date tonight.”

“Ooh, a date, is it?” Claire teased. “Thought you said it was just a friend.”

Howie just shrugged and chuckled nervously, avoiding her eyes. He never did give her an answer, but she let it go. She’d save the teasing for Nick.

***

Nick was half-watching an episode of “While You Were Out” on The Learning Channel when he heard Claire’s now-familiar knock at the door of his hospital room. The door opened a crack, and a lock of her red hair fell into the room before her face appeared.

“Come on in,” he called, glad to see her. Howie had been there earlier in the afternoon, so he hadn’t been totally bored, but he had been hoping Claire could come to visit at some point too, once she was done moving in. He had heard from Howie that the move had gone fine, but he was anxious to hear how she was settling into his house.

Claire walked in with a Tupperware under her arm, and he looked at it with curiosity. “Whatcha got there?” he asked.

“I’ve been busy in my new pad,” she replied, beaming, and as she bent to kiss his lips, she set the plastic container in his lap. He pried open the lid to find it filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies, arranged in neat stacks.

Sighing blissfully as their heavenly aroma wafted to his nose, he exclaimed, “I love you! You have no idea how good these look right now.” He hadn’t felt hungry all day, but as soon as he smelled those cookies, he was suddenly ravenous.

“Oh, I think I do,” she smiled knowingly. “Try one.”

He plucked a cookie from the top – it was soft, the chocolate chips still gooey on the bottom – and lifted it to his lips. Then he stopped, holding the cookie in mid-air. “Wait,” he said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, “did you bake these?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re excellent,” she boasted with confidence. “Go ahead, try it; I promise you won’t be poisoned.”

“Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly, making a big show of turning the cookie over, inspecting it carefully from all angles. He loved giving her a hard time about stuff like this.

“Positive,” she said, then admitted after a pause, “Howie helped, if it makes a difference.”

“It does,” he replied quickly and bit into the cookie without further hesitation, snickering with his mouth full at the feigned look of offense on her face. She was right though – the cookie was excellent, and after two days of bland hospital food, he didn’t think he’d ever tasted anything so delicious. It made him long to get out of the hospital even more, so that he could go home and eat “real food.” “Hey!” he said suddenly, that last thought reminding him of something. “Guess what?”

“Chicken butt,” she replied automatically, in typical ten-year-old kid fashion.

He stopped to roll his eyes briefly before continuing, a smile on his face, “My doc was in here earlier, and he said I can be discharged before lunch tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Well, you let me know the time for sure, and I’ll be here to pick you up and bring you home.” She paused, a mischievous smile coming onto her face, and then added, “And then I can carry you across the threshold.”

He burst out laughing at the mental image of her trying to pick him up, and then he remembered his drawing, the one he’d given to Howie to pass onto her that morning. “So you got my drawing and note, I assume?” he asked.

“Yes! I loved it!” she gushed sincerely. “The picture was priceless, and your note… you are such a sweetheart!” She leaned forward and planted another kiss on him, leaving a smile where her lips had been.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he said, feeling himself blush slightly. He was so not good at the romantic stuff, but he’d wanted a semi-creative way to at least let her know he was thinking about her that morning. He’d started doodling the day before to kill time and ended up with the drawing he’d had Howie give her – a sort of comic-ized version of the two of them together. The note had actually been harder because he always had a difficult time putting his thoughts and feelings into words on paper like that. But he’d tried to write from the heart, and apparently it had worked. He was relieved.

“I loved it,” she said again, smiling. “I’m gonna miss you tonight, you know that? It’ll be weird sleeping at your house without you there. Speaking of which… where am I supposed to sleep? Your room downstairs, or are we still going to move into the master bedroom upstairs, or not until you’re-“

“Master bedroom,” he answered her quickly. “I figure I can handle the stairs on crutches for a few days till I can wear my leg again. It’ll be worth it to be back in my old room upstairs; it’s better than the one downstairs. So you sleep there tonight, and when I get home, we can get my crap moved back up there too.”

“Okay,” Claire said with a nod.

As their conversation came to a pause, Nick helped himself to another cookie, and another after that. By the time the orderly brought his dinner tray, he was too full to even bother with attempting to eat the dinner, so he simply shifted the food around a little to look like he’d at least touched it and then pushed the tray aside.

Claire stayed for a few hours and left just as it was starting to get dark. “I’m tired,” she confessed.

“I’ll bet,” he nodded understandingly. “Go home and relax; go to bed early. You deserve it.”

She smiled and nodded. “I probably will.” Standing up, she bent over to kiss him and whispered, “’Night, Nick. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” he replied. “Goodnight.”

She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked out of the room, stopping in the doorway to wave and blow him a kiss.

As soon as she was gone, he picked up the phone.

***