NICHOLAI
Natasha sits in a chair near the Christmas tree by the window. The red and green lights bounce off her golden hair and make my heart hurt that it’s been so long since I’ve last laid my eyes on her sweet face.
My poor Natasha has been in mental hell since she came back to New York. Her stay with me didn’t last long as she became aggravated by everything I did or said. Hell, even my breathing made her angry.
When she packed up one night after me asking her to change the channel on the television, I let her go. I didn’t know what else to do for her. Nothing I was doing was working. She was hiding the fact she was drinking heavily. Not well, mind you. I knew she was drunk only she’d never admit to drinking anything.
Even when I retrieved empty bottles from the bathroom trash, a place she assumed I’d never go looking for anything, she’d deny it was her. She’d blame the staff.
I emptied out the bar so she’d have nothing to drink. But she had bottles delivered to her while I was at work. She had no idea the front desk told me about it.
Thankfully, her moving out had her deciding to seek professional help and she checked herself into rehab for a while. I haven’t seen her since she left me that night, almost a year ago.
I’d told our psychiatrist to give her a message. I wanted her to join me for Christmas. I’d heard from her mother and father that she’d cut them out too. She wanted to be alone, her mother told me.
I had no choice but to respect her wishes as she learned how to throw a hellacious fit when she thought I was trying to control her or boss her around about anything.
But now she’s sitting here, in my living room, waiting for her father to come and talk to her. I’ve known for some time that her problem was with him more so than anyone else. She’d argue that he was only trying to protect her. He was being a father to her and I just didn’t understand.
I do understand, though. I have my own issues with the man. While I may see why he did what he did, I have never agreed with his actions. Natasha, on the other hand, has said, over and over again, that she forgives him and has from the very start.
“Tea, Natasha?” I ask as she looks out the window.
“That would be nice,” she says and gets up to push the curtain to the side. “The view is so gorgeous up here.”
The bar has been restocked since she left but I have some tea brewing at it. I’m not sure she’s supposed to drink anymore. “How is the view in your new place?”
“I don’t know. The windows have dark curtains on them,” she says, making me think she’s been holing herself up with only the television and books as her company.
“The message I wanted to get to you was about coming for Christmas. Father will be busy with his new girlfriend and her kids this year. Mother is off to Spain with her new beau. And I will be utterly alone if you deny me your company, my princess.”
Her hand moving down my arm makes my insides quiver with need. “Why would you still call me your princess, Nic? I’ve been terrible to you.”
Turning to her, I run the back of my hand over her cheek. “You haven’t been you, Natasha. You will always be my princess. I know we’ve never made any marriage vows but I do take you for better or worse.”
“And all I’ve given you is worse,” she says with a sadness to her blue eyes that I hate to see.
“Not true,” I say and take her cup of tea in one hand, her hand in the other and take her to sit on the sofa where I sit next to her. Her collar is askew and I fix it for her then leave a kiss on her cheek. “So, about Christmas?”
“Maybe,” she says. “I’ll have to see if this helps me.”
“What? Talking to your father?” I ask as I pick the tea up and blow over the surface, making the steam swirl.
She nods and takes the cup from me. “Is it ready to drink?”
“I think so,” I tell her. “You might want to test it with your pinky first to be sure it suits you.”
She does and I find myself overjoyed that she didn’t have a shit-fit about me telling her what she might like to do. As a matter of fact, her asking me anything is a major change.
“If you decide to come for the holiday, I’ll come and get you. I’ll have the cook make us up anything you want for dinner. Anything at all. Lobster? Turkey?” I ask as I watch her set the cup back down and smile.
It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. “Pot roast would be great.”
“That sounds like a yes to my invitation,” I say then smile back at her.
“Get her to make the pot roast and I’ll think about it,” she says. “Will there be a sleepover that night?”
I stop breathing as she brings that up. It’s been a damn long time since I’ve touched her. A damn long time. Over two years. It’s been over two years since I’ve had sex at all.
Her words have my hormones unsteady. They want to go crazy but they know it might not happen. She’s been back and forth with me in that department.
We’d get so close then I’d do something to make her mad and off she’d go to the other room to sleep. I measure my words as I say, “I am always available to you. You know that.”
She nods and looks away. “It’s been me who has been unavailable to you. Tell me, Nic, have you had anyone else since me?”
“No,” comes my quick answer. “I have no want for anyone else.”
“Not even with me leaving you?” she asks as she continues to look away. “Not even with the pretty Doctor Sandra?”
“No. No one at all. My heart is yours. I assume it always will be,” I tell her and draw her face to mine.
One sweet kiss I leave on her plump lips. She’s regained her healthy weight and she looks incredible again. Our mouths move together, tongues entwine, saying hello and how they’ve missed one another.
Her body melts into mine and then the doorbell rings. Reluctantly, I end the kiss with a few smaller ones to tell her I enjoyed it. “Your father.”
I get up and go to answer the door as I’ve given the staff the day off to do their Christmas errands. “Greenwell,” I say as I open the door.
“Grimm. Where is she?” he says as he takes a step inside.
I turn around and gesture to the sofa but she isn’t there. “Well, she was right there. Let me see if she went to the bathroom. Have a seat.”
Making my way to the bathroom, I hear her crying inside of it. I tap at the door. “May I come in?”
“Leave me alone, Nic. I can’t do it. I can’t face him and tell him what I would have to. I can’t!”
I find the door unlocked and go inside anyway. Taking her by the shoulders, I hold her steady. “I know I’m risking a tongue lashing but I’ll risk it for you. You need to do whatever it is you were planning on doing. I am here for you. If you want me in the room or at your side or if you want me to leave, I will do anything you want. But you need to do this. If it’s making you cry, then you must face it and get on with things. Fear is to be faced or it’s never overcome. Now let me dry your tears and let’s get on with this.”
She gulps back her cries and lets me wipe her tears away. “Why do I let myself do without you?”
“Ask yourself that question. I have no idea. I think I’m fantastic,” I say then smile at her. With a light pat on her ass, I send her out of the confines of the bathroom. “Where do you want me, my princess?”
“At me side, please. I’m becoming more and more aware that I should never have left your side at all. You are my champion, my hero.”
I try hard not to allow myself to have hope she’s about to return to me. I’ve been so crushed by her so many times. But hope is seeping in all on its own.
As we enter the living room, I find her saying, “Dad, we have to talk.”
And here we go.