“I named her Floppy,” Natalia informs me. She gazes adoringly at the bunny. “Daddy says she can store hugs. I give it a squeeze, and I’m hugging that person. Daddy gives Floppy extras before he leaves.”
“That’s very nice.” I don’t hold back the grin I give her. It’s a touching, beautiful gift Nicky has given her through such an imaginative and considerate fantasy. Without hesitation, Natalia offers Floppy to me.
“Can you hug her, too? I want to have Bea hugs.”
“Oh,” I gasp, startled by her request, but deeply touched all the same. I cuddle the bunny under my chin, infusing it with all the affection for the sweet little girl next to me. Natalia makes it easy to care for her, and this childlike way of transferring that is all I can do for now to let her know. I pull the bunny back,booping its velvety nose softly before passing it to her. “There,” I say. “A little something extra to let you know when it’s one ofmyhugs that Floppy is giving you.”
The doorbell rings as Natalia burrows into the couch cushions, snuggling Floppy as tightly as possible. I make my way to collect the pizza delivery, surprised to see snow falling behind the young kid handing over the two boxes at the door. The snowflakes are fluffy, drifting quickly to the earth with increasing frequency. I don’t have the most experience with snowstorms, the flurries in London not lasting long due to the climate, so I stand and watch, even when the delivery driver has departed. It’s been an adjustment to live in a climate like this, and I’m still learning to be a confident driver when the weather comes.
Just as I finally shake myself from watching the snowfall, headlights cut through the curtain of flakes, flashing across me as they climb the driveway. Nicky glides his SUV into the garage, then quickly jogs over to the porch instead of going through the connecting door into the house. I call for Natalia quickly over my shoulder so she can come meet him.
He’s wrapped in a thick navy mourning coat, the end brushing the back of his calves as he strides toward us. It’s striking against the ash-gray three-piece suit he has on underneath. He’s lost the tie, the white dress shirt unbuttoned to his sternum, silver chain playing peek-a-boo as he moves. The flash of skin is all the more tantalizing when I think of the pre-game photo still sitting in my phone. I know he must be tired, but Nicky shows no sign of fatigue as he gives Nat a smile, scoops her up, and presses the briefest kiss to my cheek before heading inside.
The casual intimacy of their moment has me closing the front door and following the pair in a slight daze. Observing the easy way Nicky loves his daughter fills my heart with tenderness anda twinge of sadness for the little girlIwas growing up. There were no hugs at the door when I came home. No excitement to engage with me about my thoughts or feelings. There were expectations and questions until I was shipped off to become the responsibility of a well-paid educational institution.
“Hello,milaya,” Nicky murmurs into his daughter’s hair. “Did you have fun with Bea?”
“Yes! She gave Floppy a special hug, and now we get to eat pizza.”
Nicky gives a soft chuckle at the odd summation and announcement only a five-year-old can give in a single breath. He’s settled Nat onto one of the kitchen island’s high-top chairs as I enter the kitchen. I put the pizza boxes on the counter, watching Nat lift the lid for a deep inhale of the greasy goodness and painfully aware of how Nicky pulls plates from the cabinets with routine efficiency. He spins between us and the fridge, hauling out a bowl of ripe red strawberries and an individual carton of milk, setting both in front of Nat.
“Can you serve? I want to get out of this suit real quick,” Nicky asks. I nod, my brain stalling on the idea of him getting undressed so close, focusing instead on putting pizza on plates and sitting next to Nat. He leaves, and I encourage Natalia to munch on a few strawberries while she waits for her slice to cool down.
When Nicky returns, we spend the next thirty minutes gathered around the island, chatting and eating. A churning disquiet settles inside me as the time ticks by. It’s the same nagging hollowness that has haunted me most of my life, only eased when I lived with Violet, or lessened the longer I’ve been wrapped up with my newfound friends here. It’s easy and domestic in a way I’m not used to, but can see myself craving more of in the future.
It feels like family.
“You can’t drive homein this weather,” Nicky levels, turning from the open front door. Behind him, the snow is falling so fast and so thick, I can barely see across the yard. “Even if the roads are relatively clear, it isn’t safe. Stay here.”
I abandon the process of picking up my purse now that I’ve extracted my car keys to watch the unrelenting storm, taking in the drifts building along the hedge, and the darkness of the night. Despite my instinct to prove him wrong, I recognize Nicky’s command isn’t to control me. His eyebrows are pinched together, looking tense as he closes the door and steps toward me, reaching for my hand. He’s concerned. When I turn my hand over, dropping the car keys into his, his shoulders drop, and I like feeling important enough to him to care about my safety. My stomach flutters, but I can’t help teasing him.
“Careful, Nikita, I might think youlikeme.” I flutter my lashes as he fists my keys, dragging out his given name, enjoying the way it sounds. The breathy way I say it breaks unevenly when he takes another step closer, reducing the space between us enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him.
He swapped to a Midnight hoodie and black joggers, thick wool socks covering his large feet earlier. It has been a surprising thing to learn that, as a goalie, Nicky isn’t an overly broad man. All those pads firmly give the illusion that he will be equally imposing off the ice, but I’ve rarely felt that way. His bulk is so evenly spread over his long frame, he doesn’t match “The Wall” nickname he’s earned in the net standing in front of me. But I know there’s a lot of muscle under those clothes; some placeslean and lithe, while others are thick and solid. He’s all power, and I sense just how much of it he has when I tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The blue of his irises is soft, like the calm waters of the sea after a hurricane.
“I more than like you,solnyshka.” His gaze flicks around my face, taking in the slight drop of my jaw. “It’s probably time I start showing you how much.”
Then, with agonizing slowness, Nicky’s lips curl up into a smile I’ve never seen before. The man has a smile for the public; the one he displays when the team wins, or when he’s been asked to by the media and he’s feeling particularly obliging. He has a soft, loving one that slips and slides off his face every time he’s with Nat. It’s the kind reserved for parents who love their children, bestowed freely and frequently but only for them.But this?It’s sultry and teasing. Dark and enticing. It makes my poor, lonely pussy throb and heat. I’m desperate to clench my thighs together, as though it will alleviate some of the want that spears through me. Then, as quickly as the smile appears, it retreats.
“I’m going to put Nat to bed.” Nicky sidesteps me, dropping my keys onto the side table, and calls for Natalia as he makes his way back into the living room.
I stand, rooted to the floorboards. Confusion and desire war within me, so I do the only thing I can think of. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, shooting off a text to Violet.
Staying with Nicky and Nat tonight. Can’t drive in this snow.
Petal
I’m glad you’ll be somewhere safe. Happy New Year!
He just told me he “more than likes me.”
I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. It feels like hours, and nothing comes through.
WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO WITH THAT?! Now I’m STUCK here.
Petal
Use protection. Don’t wake up Natalia.
