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  Nick set the bags down on the table. He’d stopped at Fiorentino’s and gotten all her favorites. He knew the way to Rosalie’s heart was through her stomach. At least it used to be.

  Chapter 19

  IT WAS WEIRD SEEING NICK IN HER APARTMENT AGAIN. She’d imagined him there so many times, and now that he was, she couldn’t stop wondering if she was dreaming. The only thing that clued her in was the slight irritation she felt when he walked in without knocking, as if he owned the place. Of course, if he had knocked, it probably would have made her cry.

  He subtly checked the apartment out. She’d kind of let the place go. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before, but it was well on its way. Mail covered the table. One of the two things Nick had left behind, the vacuum, served as a coatrack holding her collection of outerwear. She’d kicked all her shoes off under every available piece of furniture. The thought of putting them in her closet only served to remind her of Nick, and she was depressed enough as it was. Hell, she’d been spinning around the toilet bowl of depression for the last thirty-five days, six hours, and eighteen minutes—not that she was counting.

  Dave was doing a happy dance, jumping all over the apartment in glee. His tail banged the walls and closets like a drum. The traitor.

  Reaching into the cupboard above her, Rosalie snagged the pain reliever and took one. Okay, she downed three and tapped a Pepcid out of its bottle. Her stomach was doing flips. She didn’t know if it was because Nick had walked back into her life or because he’d brought food. In any case, she didn’t trust her stomach.

  “Should you be taking that?”

  She turned and found Nick standing right behind her. She stepped away and wedged herself into the corner of the cupboards. “It’s over-the-counter.”

  “Yeah, but is it safe?” He looked at her funny, like he was examining her.

  “Safe enough.”

  Nick didn’t seem to believe her. Too bad. He’d lost the right to make her take medicine, or not take it, when he walked out on her. She popped the pink pill in her mouth and crunched on it, just to piss him off. It worked—the crunching, not the pill. Her stomach was still roiling.

  Nick stepped aside, swept the coffee she’d spilled off the counter with the side of his hand and into the sink, and finished setting up the coffee machine. That was fine with Rosalie. She always did like his coffee better than hers.

  He nodded toward the bags. “I brought your favorite—chocolate-covered donuts. Go ahead and dig one out. I know you want to.”

  “Maybe later.” Like when hell froze over. She swallowed back the nausea and rubbed her stomach. Nick stared, giving her the weirdest look. “What?”

  “Nothing. Um, are you actually going to have breakfast before dessert?”

  “I’ve been watching what I eat. That’s all.”

  “Good. I’ve been reading about how important it is to eat healthy.” He poured her a glass of orange juice he’d picked up and slid it down the counter. “Folic acid.”

  Whatever the acid was in OJ, it didn’t sit well, either. She didn’t mention it. It wasn’t his business.

  Taking the juice to the table, she set the glass down at his place. God, he still had a seat at the table, a side of the bed, keys . . .

  “Hey, how did you get in the security door? Did you make a copy of my keys or something?”

  Ooh, she saw steam shooting out his ears. Now all he needed was to blow his top. She had no idea what possessed her, but she intentionally pissed him off. It didn’t make sense. She was happy he was there. Happy, confused, insecure—oh, and let’s not forget, scared spitless. She wasn’t sure what she was more afraid of—that he’d leave again, or that he’d stay and leave later. The only thing she knew was that she wanted him to stay forever. She never again wanted to go through what she had in the last thirty-five days, six hours, and twenty minutes.

  Rosalie watched Nick trying to control his anger. His mouth moved as he counted to ten, and his teeth clenched. The tic in his jaw was going double time. Good. It was nice to see that she could still get a rise out of him.

  “Henry and Wayne let me in. They seemed happy to see me.”

  “Oh.” Okay, now she felt like a heel. “I’m sure they were.”

  “You don’t look so happy.”

  She gathered the mail that she’d thrown all over the table and tossed it on the couch. She didn’t turn to look at him. She was already on the verge of losing it.

  “Nick, what are you doing here?”

  She waited for his answer, listening to the Felix the Cat clock ticking. Every roll of Felix’s eyes and swish of his tail seemed to take a lifetime. Her heart pounded— the part of it that wasn’t broken, the part that kept her alive. Blood rushed through her ears. She held onto the back of the chair and prayed she wouldn’t pass out.

  He’d moved so quietly, Rosalie didn’t know he was behind her until his hands cupped her shoulders and slid down the length of her arms. He pried her hands off the chair back and pulled her against him. A war waged in her head. Part of her wanted to stay in his arms, absorb the heat of his body against hers, and melt into his embrace. The other part wanted to run like hell. God, it hurt so much, thinking this might be the last time she ever touched him. At least when he’d walked out the last time, she hadn’t known he wouldn’t come back. If he left now, she’d know. And she wouldn’t be surprised if it killed her. Rosalie honestly didn’t think she could go through it again.

  “Don’t do this, Nick.” She pulled away, but he didn’t let go. He turned her around to face him and held her there.

  “Don’t do what? Don’t love you? I tried that. It didn’t work. Lee, I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I should never have kept things from you. But when I met you and found out that you were Rich Ronaldi’s sister, I didn’t think past—”

  “Getting into my pants?”

  “Well, yeah. Lee, I’m thirty-two-years-old, and I’ve never had a relationship last more than a month. I’ve never been in love before. I never wanted to be.”

  “Do you think this is what I wanted?”

  “No. But I didn’t know that then, and I thought once you found out who I was, you’d never want to see me again.”

  “Oh, yeah, you being The Dominick Romeo must have women running in the opposite direction. It must be tough. Maybe you should change your name to Dr. Hannibal Lecter. That might help.”

  “I was your brother’s best friend until I slept with his girlfriend and got both our asses arrested. I didn’t think he’d be real happy with me seeing his little sister.”

  “Hold on. You slept with Rich’s girlfriend? Rich is three years older than you, and he was only seventeen when he was arrested. You slept with someone when you were fourteen? What did you do, play spin the bottle and tell ghost stories as foreplay?”

  “I was fifteen, and to tell you the truth, I don’t remember. I was drunk. I never would have touched Sophia if I was thinking clearly.”

  “Neither would Rich. She was such a slut. I was ten, and even I knew she would do anyone.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. So this is why you didn’t tell me who you were? It had nothing to do with Premier Motorcars?”

  “I didn’t know you were involved with Premier until I drove you there that day you insisted on going to work sick. I swear. Before that, I thought it was nice to go out with someone who didn’t expect to be taken to a four-star restaurant on every date.”

  “We’ll get to Premier in a moment. As for the four-star treatment, I can see that. I figured you didn’t want me to know who you were because most women try to land you for your money.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “But after you got to know me, why didn’t you come clean?”

  “I wanted to, but then I found out you were working with Premier. I thought if I came clean, you’d be so pissed about me lying, you wouldn’t want to see me anymore. I figured I might as well wait until Rich came back for spring break. That way
, I’d have as much time with you as possible. By the time I found out Rich was coming home, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. I knew I had to tell you.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  “I was going to, but you didn’t get home until three in the morning. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

  “Do you have any idea how much it hurt when I realized I was living with a man who cared so little about me, he’d never told me his name? And that’s before I figured out I was sleeping with the enemy. You were trying to ruin the company I was trying to save.”

  Nick shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. God, Lee, it was never that. I just didn’t want to lose you, and as for Premier, I did nothing to hurt the company after I found out you were the new CFO. I hardly had to do anything before then, except wait for Jack Jr. to flush Premier down the toilet. I should never have let him near you. God, Lee, I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to you.”

  Nick clung to her and kissed her. A sweet kiss on the lips. God, she’d missed him.

  The coffee machine beeped, signaling it had finished brewing. She was dying for a cup. She also had to get away from Nick. She couldn’t think when he was touching her. She went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

  “Is that decaf?”

  “What would be the point in drinking coffee, if not for the caffeine?”

  “You should be avoiding caffeine. It’s not good for you. It increases your blood pressure and your heart rate. Did you know that it’s been linked to miscarriages?”

  “So?”

  “So, pregnant women shouldn’t be drinking caffeinated anything. Ever since I got here, you’ve been popping pills, and now you’re drinking coffee. Are you trying to lose our baby?”

  Rosalie spun around, coffee sloshing over the rim of her cup onto the floor. “Oh my God! You came here because you think I’m pregnant?”

  Her skin got all clammy, and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She ran to the bathroom. She’d never been one to be sick, especially in front of anyone, but Nick followed and rubbed her back while she threw up what little she had in her stomach.

  Rosalie sat back and leaned against the cool tile wall, fighting tears. Nick handed her a wet washcloth. She wiped her face. God, it was happening again. He was going to leave.

  “All better?”

  She shook her head. “You need to leave, Nick.”

  “How could you think I’d leave you? We’re having a baby, for God’s sake. My baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t you understand? There is no baby. You’re off the hook. Go. Get out.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. There is no baby. Now would you please go? Please?” She couldn’t stop the tears. Rosalie pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, sobbing—waiting for him to leave again.

  “Don’t tell me you lost the baby. Lee?” He sat beside her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But it’s going to be okay. You’ll see. I read that twenty-five percent of the babies conceived are lost early. A lot of times, the woman doesn’t even know it. We can try again real soon.”

  What, was he dense? “Nick, I didn’t lose a baby. There never was a baby. I was never pregnant.”

  “Then what’s wrong? Why are you sick?”

  “What do you care? You don’t love me. You only came back because you thought I was pregnant.”

  “Bullshit. If that were true, why would I still be here? I love you. Now damn it, Lee, tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”

  “Nothing.” She pushed herself up and threw the washcloth on the counter. He stood beside her, looking at her in the mirror. Fine. She needed to brush her teeth. Let him watch. After everything Nick had seen, seeing her spit shouldn’t bother him. She put a little toothpaste on the brush, hoping the taste wouldn’t start her heaving again.

  “I’ll go make you some tea and toast. You need to eat, and we need to talk without you getting sick.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said around the toothbrush in her mouth.

  “Do you realize that the only time you’ve ever not been hungry has been when you were sick?”

  After rinsing out her mouth, she wiped herself with a towel. “Do you realize the only time I’ve been sick has been when you were here?”

  “Well then, I guess we better move to my place.” He picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, and set her down on the bed.

  “Nick, I told you, I’m not sick, and I’m not pregnant—”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that suffering from a broken heart does not make one lose over twenty pounds in a month.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I haven’t lost twenty pounds, and I not only lost you, but I lost Dave. And I love that dog.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, he’s been miserable without you, too.”

  “You lie down while I make some breakfast. I’ll be right back.”

  Nick dialed his cell phone on his way to the kitchen, made an appointment while he poured himself some coffee, and disconnected the call as he filled the kettle for Rosalie’s tea. After rummaging around the near-empty cupboard, he found tea bags and opened the fridge to get the bread. There was nothing but batteries and condiments in the refrigerator. It was worse then it had been when they’d first started dating. Then at least she’d had milk, eggs, and beer. There was nothing in the freezer, either. She was going to have to eat a dry bagel. That was close enough to toast.

  A few minutes later, he was back in the bedroom, and Rosalie looked as if she was sleeping. He sat beside her. Her eyes opened, and she greeted him with a suspicious look. “Hey.”

  He put the tray between them. “Here, eat slowly. This will help while we talk.”

  She looked wary. He’d thought they’d gotten beyond that. Hell, he’d told her he loved her—a sentiment she hadn’t returned.

  He pointed to the bagel and handed her the tea. “Take a bite; it’ll make you feel better.”

  She took a sip of tea instead. She never did what he told her to do. He loved that about her . . . almost as much as he hated it.

  “I was thinking of what it was like when we were together. You know—you, Dave, and me. It was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Nick, I’m sorry. I’m not interested in going back to whatever it was we had. I don’t want that anymore. I’ve changed.”

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, raked his fingers through his hair, and then stayed that way, holding his head, staring at the floor. “What do you mean, you don’t want that? Are you talking about the deal, or are you talking about me?”

  “The deal. I’m talking about the deal. You . . . we, well, it was good except for the lying. You really suck at lying.”

  “It was just good?”

  “Hold on. You’re the one who said it was good. What do you want me to say? That it was magnificent?”

  He sat up straighter and smirked. “Yeah, magnificent works. I’d go with magnificent.”

  “So would I, but you said it was good.”

  “You’re right. I’m really screwing this up, aren’t I? This isn’t the way I envisioned it at all.”

  “Envisioned what?”

  “Seeing you again.” He moved his food to the side and took her hand in his. “I thought it’d be like one of those sappy movies. You know, you’d see me, and you’d be happy. I definitely didn’t expect to have to tackle you to the ground and hold you down, not to mention having to pick you up off the bathroom floor after you—”

  “I get it. You don’t have to draw a picture.”

  “I thought I’d tell you I loved you; you’d say you loved me, too; we’d have make-up sex; and then we’d get married. End of story.”

  “Hold on. I got you through the make-up sex. But marriage?”

  “Yeah. I thought you, me, and Dave, we’d be
a family. Like the people you see in the park. You know, the mom and dad, a dog, and two point five kids. Like one of those Rockwell paintings.”

  “Kids? Nick, I told you, I’m not pregnant.”

  “So we’ll get married and work on that part of it.”

  She put her hand to his forehead. “Are you sick? What’s come over you?”

  “You. You make me happy. You drive me crazy. You fill my life. I want you to be a part of it, and I want to be part of yours. I want to take you home, introduce you to my mother and grandmother. I want to meet your family and friends. I was miserable without you. I felt as if I were in prison serving a life sentence. I never want to live like that again. I need you, Lee. Marry me.”

  It was a good thing Rosalie was in bed; if she hadn’t been, she’d have fallen over. Marry Nick? “You mean marriage, as in wearing white, a church, a reception— that kind of marriage?”

  Nick crowded her against the pillows.

  “I’m talking about spending the rest of our lives together. Being a real family. Going to sleep with you every night. Waking up with you every morning. Making love to you. You know, love, honor, and cherish? Yada, yada, yada?”

  Pushing him back, she slid out of bed and started pacing. By the time she’d walked around the bed once, he’d moved a pile of stuff that had been on the dresser and put the tray there.

  “Why is it that men always remember the first three— love, honor, and cherish—because that’s what they expect from their women, and the rest is ‘yada, yada, yada?’ That’s the part about not screwing around. That’s the part men forget.”

  Nick looked pissed, and when he got pissed, he tended to loom over her. “Lee, I’m not your father. I don’t cheat.”

  “No. You lie.”

  Nick put his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms, linking their hands and pushing them behind her back, which also served to pull her against him. “I’m a terrible liar. You said so yourself.”

  “True.” Lord, he felt good. It amazed her how all she had to do was get close to Nick and she felt better. Like how, when she came home from a long trip, she’d be too stressed and too tired to relax, but then she’d open her front door and her spirits would magically lift. Being with Nick was like that.