His dark eyes burn into me. “If you think that, then you don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
Nick storms out of the dining room, and I follow him.
“So, you’re shutting down?” I know I’m pushing him, and I’m not really sure why. “Instead of talking this out or even fighting this out, you’re shutting down.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“And that’s it. You don’t want to talk, and I have no say in the matter.”
“You have plenty to say about everything,” he throws over his shoulder.
“This can’t just be about me decorating the house and wanting to have a holiday party.”
He spins around to face me. “We wereapart a long-ass time, babe.”
“Yes, we were, and we went over all that, but you can’t let it go. You can’t forget how I kept Portia from you, can you? And now you’re going to punish me.”
Nick stays silent. His dark ebony eyes, so much like Portia’s, bore into me, and I can’t look away.
“Go ahead and say it.” I push him further.
“Say what?”
“That you still haven’t forgiven me for keeping Portia a secret.”
“I said, I’m not doing this.”
“Why not? Afraid of what I’ll say, or maybe you’re afraid of what you’ll say.”
He throws his hands up in the air. “Maybe you don’t even want me to live here anymore.”
“When you first moved in, you said you wanted us to get married,” I remind him. “But you haven’t mentioned it since.”
“That’s ‘cause I’m trying to build up the business. I wanna make sure we have enough money and don’t have to struggle.”
“Just sounds like an excuse to me.” I stand my ground. “If you really wanted to marry me, nothing would stop you.”
“It’s just not the right time.”
“Maybe there will never be a right time for you.”
“I refuse to throw you and Portia into a life where you have to scrounge to survive. Maybe that’s a little over the top, but being poor again is a ghost that haunts me every fuckin’ day, which is why I work my ass off the make money.”
He heads up the stairs, and I call after him, “All you talk about is money, money, money, but money won’t keep you company, and it sure won’t warm your bed at night.”
The bedroom door slams, and my eyes fill with tears as Istand alone in our beautiful foyer with my perfectly decorated balsam fir tree.
7
NICK
I spent most of the day going over the upcoming schedule of parties for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. The thought of downloading it and sending it to Cheryl so she could see what I have going on next week crosses my mind. Then better judgment tells me that would be a dick move.
Along with everything else, I check my email every fifteen minutes to see if Graham sent over his proposal. To say I’m on edge is an understatement.
“So, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” Samson breezes into my office mid-afternoon with a huge annoying smile on his face.
