She strokes my cheek. “I love you.”
“And I love you, baby, always.”
1
Six Months Later/Five Days Before Christmas
NICK
“I want our first Christmas in the new house to be special. The best ever.” Cheryl arranges, then rearranges the display of ferns and holly on the dining room table. “I told the florist I wanted pine sprigs that smell like pine.” She leans into the arrangement and sniffs. “These smell like nothing.”
“So, buy some of those pine-scented candles, or get one of those aerosol sprays.”
“Right, so you want me to spray volatile compounds around the room.”
I contain my eye roll, but lately Cheryl’s been getting a little crazy with the healthy environmental shit.
“I know what you’re thinking, but those compounds cause asthma, lung cancer and premature death.”
“Merry fuckin’ Christmas.” I huff out a laugh, but it doesn’t lighten the mood.
“Laugh all you want, but I want Portia to have a healthy environment.” She cups her non-existent belly. “And whoknows, maybe soon we’ll have another baby, and I want him or her to only be surrounded by healthy choices too.”
“I get it, but did you forget that you and I basically raised ourselves?” I puff out my chest. “And we turned out okay.”
“But wouldn’t it have been nice if someone had been concerned with our welfare? You were raised by an abusive father, and my mother left me with anybody so she could go out get high and party.”
“Yeah, it sucked, but maybe it made us the tough, resilient people we are today.”
“You’re gonna tell me you don’t have scars, both literally and figuratively?”
“Look, babe, all I’m saying is you gotta relax a little.”
“Relax? Are you kidding me?”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I gladly retrieve it. Once Cheryl gets on this topic, there’s no turning back.
“Yeah?”
“Your friend Graham just left.” Samson’s irritation rasps through the phone. “Supposedly you had a meeting with him this morning.”
“Shit!” I cup the back of my neck. “Is he still in the building?”
“Nah, just left.”
“Can’t you catch him before he leaves?”
“He left ten minutes ago.” Samson’s casual attitude is pissing me off.
“You should’ve told him to wait.”
“No big deal.” A heartbeat later: “Probably better off without him. The guy’s got a big fuckin’ attitude.”
“I know you don’t like him, but he’s the one person who can bring Wicked to the next level.”
“Geez, fuck, relax.” I imagine Samson rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone.
I realize I just said the same words to Cheryl, but Samson doesn’t get it. We need a high-priced promoter, and making a deal with Graham Pierce would be sweet.
