CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nicola
The next few days speed on like a rocket. Whereas everything in my life seemed to slog by in slow motion before, now it was blasting forward. There’s been some bumps along the way but that’s to be expected when everything around you does a 180, even if it’s for the better.
The better, of course, is having Bram back in our lives. The worse is that it’s taken a little bit for Ava to pull herself out of her whole episode. It’s been three days and she spent a full one at the hospital, recovering. Luckily, James was proactive and he kicked in my health insurance the moment I got promoted, so there were no financial scares this time around.
I’m still at Kayla’s, which is fine. Ava and I are used to it. Being back with Bram is so new and fresh still, and things have changed in the last two months that it’s taking a while for us to get used to each other again. In fact, I haven’t even slept with him after he told me he loved me. I know that’s a bit shocking, but it hasn’t felt right. Not yet, anyway.
Honestly, I haven’t really been alone with Bram. Other than being at the hospital together, I’m still working my ass off at the Lion, refusing to relax even if he’s back in my life.
This evening though, is quiet. It’s a Saturday night but the city is going through a rare heatwave, complete with actual sunshine, so I guess everyone is hogging up all the prime patio space on the streets and by the bay. A stuffy Irish pub is the last place people want to be.
“Hey, gorgeous,” I hear, that beautiful Scottish brogue breaking me out of my thoughts.
I straighten up from organizing the beer in the fridge and look over at the bar to see Bram strolling in toward me. He’s wearing a suit – of course – but it’s a light stone color and there’s no tie, just his white dress shirt unbuttoned a few, showing off that sexy throat and summer tan. In his hands is a bouquet of pink and blue roses.
“Are those for me?” I ask, totally charmed by the flowers and the man holding them.
“Of course,” he says, standing on the other side of the bar and handing them to me. “I realize that all this time, I never had a chance to properly wine and dine you. You know, like a gentleman would. All my wooing was through my pants.”
I flush at that and grin. “Well, I can’t say I objected to Bram McGregor’s particular style of wooing.”
“Even so,” he goes on, “since we’re all about starting over in one way or another, I’d like to ask you out on a date.”
“Right now?”
He nods. “Aye. I called Kayla and she’s agreed to keep watching Ava as long as I treat you right. Actually, she was a lot more, erm, brutal than that.”
Kayla, God bless her.
“So, are you ready? Seems kind of dead in here.” He eyes the place, biting his lip, as if this whole date thing has him a bit nervous. How cute.
I look over at James who’s been pretending not to listen but actually has. “James?” I ask.
He waves at me dismissively. “Go.”
So I do. Of course the only problem with going from bar to date is the fact that I don’t have any nice clothes with me.
I grab my purse, hoping that at least my makeup and hair are holding up after the shift, and hook my arm around Bram’s.
“I hope you’re not taking me somewhere fancy because I don’t have any nice clothes on me.”
“Clothes?” he says, raising his brow and doing his best Doc Brown impression. “Where we’re going we don’t need clothes.”
I giggle. “All right, weirdo. Naked restaurant it is.”
“You’ll see,” is all he says, voice husky, and suddenly all I want is to never mind the date and just screw his brains out. It’s been far, far too long and he feels far, far too good.
He takes me out into the hot, stuffy night and into his waiting Mercedes. We drive through the city and I get the impression we’re just kind of meandering. I can’t complain though. With the windows down, the breeze in my hair and Bram’s warm hand on my thigh, it’s a perfect night with only good things coming our way, I can tell.
“How is Matthew doing?” I ask him. I don’t mean to bring him up but Bram’s only talked about him in passing here and there. I know that Matthew and his mom live down in SoCal and they have their own little life going on. So far things seem wonderfully uncomplicated but still, I want Bram to know that it’s okay to talk about him. I don’t mind.
“He’s fine,” he says, his eyes gleaming under the passing streetlights as we begin to zig-zag down the famous Lombard Street, the most crooked street in the world. Normally going down the street makes me dizzy but tonight I feel nothing but alive.
Bram goes on, “I don’t talk to him that often, you know. It’s still a bit strange for both of us. Especially since we both knew about the other but we don’t have that relationship whatsoever. He thinks I’m just some friend of his mom, even though he knows that I’m his father. I guess the word just doesn’t apply other than in technical terms. But I’m all right with that…these things take time and I have no need to intrude on their little unit, you know?”
I can’t help but smile softly. “I think you intruding on me and Ava’s little unit was the best thing that could have happened to us.”
He takes his eyes off the road to look at me. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “You changed our lives. And yeah, maybe it was a bit, turbulent, for a while there. But I think it sorted itself out.”
He sighs, his hands gripping and ungripping the wheel. “You know, I just keep wanting to apologize. Every single day.”
“Don’t. You’ve said enough.”
“I know,” he says emphatically. “But it feels like it’s not enough. You’re too good for me, Nicola.”
“No,” I tell him. “I’m not. And you’re not too good for me. I think we’re good together and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.”
Bram doesn’t say anything to that and we drive through a beautiful, comfortable silence. We head across the Golden Gate Bridge and the city sparkles in the side-mirrors, a ghost in the night. I’m finally about to ask where we’re actually going but he pulls the car off to the side and we climb the steep hills to a viewpoint overlooking the city.
There are a couple of cars there, tourists or locals or romantics taking in the sight of the glowing bridge. But we drive further down the lot and park at the end so we’re completely alone.
“This doesn’t look like dinner,” I tell him.
He’s looking at me like he’s going to devour me and then I know what’s really on the menu.
He jerks his head at the backseat and I crane my neck to look as he flicks on the interior light.
There’s a picnic basket back there. I hadn’t noticed it earlier. He leans back, twisting in his seat, and that wonderfully manly, fresh smell of his makes me tingly all over. I don’t dare tell him that I used to sleep with an old shirt of his just to keep smelling him as I fell asleep at night, pretending he was there.
“Ta-da,” he says, lifting up the basket. I see a bottle of red wine and a bunch of appetizers in colorful containers – antipasto, olives, bread, cheese, fruit, Greek salad, quinoa. It all looks absolutely fabulous. “I thought we could have our first date here. Can’t get a better view than this.”
We take out a blanket he has in the trunk and lay it on the grass at the foot of the car. He plays Lovage from his portable iPhone speakers and lights the scene with a few electric candles. We spread out the food and wine and we have ourselves a beautiful feast. It’s just us and the city at our feet. I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with Bram McGregor all over again, but it is.
It so fucking is.
And after we’re done and the white chocolate covered raspberries are licked off each other’s fingers, we start, well, we start licking more than that. And I discover my love for him goes further and further.
We make love on that blanket, like the exhibitionists we are. The other patrons of the parking lot are too far away to see, and they couldn’t anyway from their angle, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. Beneath this rare open night sky and these blinding stars that the fog so often hides, we are deeper into each other than we ever have been before. When he pushes inside me, I feel so complete that it brings tears to my eyes and when I come, softly, whimpering into his sweat-soaked neck, those tears unleash.
“Why are you crying, sweetheart?” he whispers, voice slow and sated.
“Because I love you,” I tell him. “And I can’t imagine anything better.”
He brushes my tears away and doesn’t pull out, even though we’ve both come. He stays in me until he can’t anymore.
Later, when we pull up to Kayla’s apartment, he puts the car in park and then twists in his seat to face me.
“Nicola,” he says, sounding grave.
I swallow, suddenly on alert. “What?”
He takes my hands in his and squeezes them. He clears his throat and looks down at my hands. “I’m going to ask you something. And then I’m going to ask Ava. And if you both say yes, then I might just be the luckiest fucker in the entire world.” He pauses, his eyes flitting to mine. “Will you both move in with me?”
“Are you kidding?” I say, wanting to laugh. “Of course we’ll move in with you.”
“Not in my apartment building, I mean in the actual apartment. You’d be sharing it with me.”
“Well, you’d be sharing it with me. And a five-year-old.”
“But that’s a yes?”
I break out into a stupid grin. “That’s a yes.”
He kisses me, fast and deep and beautifully. Then we make our way upstairs to my soon-to-be-ex apartment.
By luck – or bad babysitting skills – Ava is still awake, playing a game with Kayla.
“Bram!” she says surprised, and runs over to him. He picks her up and gives her a big bear hug.
“What are you doing up, little one? It’s past your bedtime.” He eyes Kayla. “Have you been giving Aunt Kayla trouble?”
I smile at the way he’s such a natural around her. He puts her back down on the ground and she looks at him shyly.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she says.
“She wouldn’t sleep,” Kayla fills in.
Bram grins at them both and then crouches down to Ava’s level. “Listen, Ava. I have an important big girl question for you. Are you ready for it?”
She nods, mouth grim and looking overly serious. “I’m ready.”
“How would you like to move in with me? Your mom will be there too.”
Her eyes widen and she breaks into a smile. She glances up my way.
“Is this true?”
“Yes, angel. If you say that we can, we can both live with Bram.”
“What do you say?” Bram asks.
Ava actually looks like she’s going to cry. She throws her little arms around Bram’s neck and says, muffled, “Yes.”
My heart, my soul, my ovaries are all simultaneously combusting.
This man.
This damn man.
I hear a sniffle from beside me and Kayla is actually crying. Kayla who never cries.
“Kayla,” I say, in mock surprise. “You’re not soulless after all.”
She glares at me and angrily wipes a tear away. “I’m just happy that you guys are finally leaving.” But then she huffs off to the kitchen yelling, “This calls for champagne!” over her shoulder.
It calls for a lot of things.
But most of all, it calls for me to count my blessings. Because standing here, surrounded by the people I love most, I realize I have a ton of them.
“Bram,” Ava says, pulling on his sleeve. “When we move in, can I have a trampoline?”
I roll my eyes. She’s been asking for one for as long as she’s learned how to pronounce it properly.
“We’ll see,” Bram says good-naturedly.
“Can I have a pony too? Mommy won’t let me have a pony.”
He looks at me and smiles. “We’ll have to see about that one, too. I think your mum is going to be calling a lot of the shots.”
She pauses, thinking.
Then. “Bram, can I have a bugosaur?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
I laugh. “Ava, if you want, you can have a bugosaur.”
“Yay!” she cries out and then runs to our bedroom. Thank God for fictional creatures.
Kayla brings over the champagne and we each take a flute. We raise them in the air for a toast.
“To new beginnings,” Kayla says. “And getting my apartment back.”
“To love,” I say. “And not giving up on it.”
“To Nicola’s arse,” Bram says, “and the fact that I’ll see more of it.”
I roll my eyes but I clink to that anyway.
We finish our drinks and then it’s time for Bram to go home. I stand outside in the hall with him, exchanging one long, sweet kiss, his hands wrapped around my waist, my fingers in his thick, soft hair.
“Tomorrow,” he says, murmuring into my neck, “you’ll come live with me.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll be all yours.”
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
I’ll be his forever.