“I love you, Mum. Thank you. For everything,” I whispered into her hair.
When she finally sniffed and pulled away, I kissed her cheek and explained her new record player was at home but was a bit big to wrap and bring to the restaurant.
Nick glanced at the present, an autographed vinyl copy of Culture Club's album Colour by Numbers. “You’re a fan, I take it?” he asked.
“I listened to them every day when I was pregnant with Ky. When my parents were yelling at each other over what to do about their wayward daughter, I would put it in my Walkman and turn the volume up full. When I finally left, the Walkman and my Culture Club tape was the only thing I had time to take with me. But I… I don’t have it anymore.”
Nick smiled at her kindly, understanding there must have been more to the story but leaving it there.
When the waiter came to ask if we wanted anything else and we all shook our heads, Nick asked for the bill and the item at the hostess’s table.
I was confused for a moment until a gift wrapped in silver paper arrived. Nick handed it to Mum with a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Rhiannon.”
Mum did her normal gushing thank-you and told Nick he shouldn’t have bought her anything. Nick hadn’t said he was, and I hoped it wasn’t anything too expensive. Although the gesture was nice, Mum would feel uncomfortable with an expensive gift.
When she unwrapped it, she gasped and then looked up at Nick with wide eyes. “How on earth? I… I don’t even remember mentioning them. Oh my God.” I glanced over to see a complete set of Sweet Valley High books.
“I hope you enjoy them. I know there are newer editions, but I thought you might appreciate the original covers,” he explained warmly.
Mum wrapped her arms around him for a hug and sniffed again as she pulled away. “If Tim wasn’t so good in bed, I would seriously marry you.”
“Hey!” I complained. Just once could we have a meal without them embarrassing me?
“Hey!” Tim echoed, but then shrugged. “Actually, I’m okay with that.”
Nick’s face tensed. Not enough for Mum to notice, but I saw the muscles clench at his temple and the slight tightening of his lips. “Well, marriage is not something I’m ever going to be a part of, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
I frowned while Nick leaned forward to give Mum another quick peck on the cheek and wished her a happy birthday. As we made our way to the door, I tried to ignore Tim’s knowing gaze.
While we waited for the taxi, Mum and Nick chatted about Port Douglas, where her and Tim were headed for the week. I was shocked Tim had managed to keep it a surprise until that morning.
Tim gave me a hug and whispered, “You might not be there yet, but if that is a deal breaker, you need to talk about it now.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know if it is,” I whispered sadly.
“When I see Rhiannon sleeping next to me each morning, it isn’t the piece of paper that makes me grateful to be there.”
I nodded. As I watched the taxi pull away, Nick grabbed my hand and squeezed. “So, what’s the story with the Walkman and tape?”
I heard him, but my mind was a whirlpool of scenarios and questions with no answers running around frantically inside my head. He tugged gently on my hand to get my attention.
“Never? You’re never going to get married?” I asked instead of answering his question.
He dropped my hand, and I felt the loss as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be thinking, inspecting the cracks in the pavement. I wasn’t going to like whatever he was concentrating so hard on working out how to say. “No. It’s not something that I am ever going to want. It’s not about the commitment. Not exactly. I… I don’t ever want someone to stay with me out of obligation or because a divorce would be messy or costly or inconvenient. And I want whoever I’m with to know that I am with them because I want to be, because I choose to be, not because of a piece of paper that has no bearing on whether I choose to be faithful or choose to even be present.”
“Whoever you’re with?”
“Sorry?” He looked up at me.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. This conversation was ridiculous. We hadn’t been together long enough for me to be thinking about us so seriously. And clearly Nick wasn’t thinking of me specifically. Just whoever. “Sorry, it was a bit of a surprise. Dinner was lovely. Thank you for that. The restaurant was amazing.”
Nick didn’t take the hint. He stepped forward, and his hands wound around my waist. “Whoever was not my way of saying ‘not you.’ If I was honest about what I see for our future, you would probably run screaming for the hills… Well, you aren’t really a screamer, but you would run for the hills mumbling stoically.”
I studied his face as he continued to look into my eyes. I wasn’t sure we were ready for that conversation yet, but the idea Nick had even thought of our future warmed me, and I leaned forward and gently rested my forehead on his.
“I’m not running anywhere,” I murmured.
Chapter Fifteen
Nick was busy Friday night, so I moped around the house and played on social media. How had I had gone from relying on my privacy and enjoying the solitude to feeling restless simply because Nick wasn’t here? I was bored, which led to porn, obviously. Damn, RopeTrainKeep’s new video was released on Monday. How did I miss that?
I had an early night.
Saturday Nick and I spent shopping, catching a movie, and then having a lazy night on the lounge in front of Netflix. But my pillow was warm and blew me when the movie got boring, so who was I to complain? Nick wanted to head home to get some stuff done before the barbeque so I headed to the gym, promising to pick him up at one o’clock.
When I arrived, he was just finishing up an email, and when he stood, I swear to God I started salivating. “Well, hi.”
“Hi yourself.”
“Umm, as much as those clothes are having an extraordinary effect on my dick, perhaps you want something more casual.”
“More casual? I’m wearing shorts!”
“Yes, but dressy shorts. And a button-up shirt.”
“There is no such thing as dressy shorts. They’re bloody shorts. They can’t by definition be any less dressy.”
“Can you jump in the pool with them on?”
He frowned. “What would you like me to wear?” Then I realized he was looking unsure. He was probably nervous about meeting my friends, and I was a dick.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Nick. It really doesn’t matter what you wear.”
“No, no. Please tell me. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
I hated he thought that was even possible. “I would never be embarrassed by you. You could turn up in a clown suit or a mankini, for God’s sake, and I wouldn’t be embarrassed by you. I’m sorry. You do look amazing—I just want you to be comfortable. Please forget I said anything.”
I offered a few creative ways to make it up to him, which had the desired result of making him smile. But when Nick excused himself to grab his overnight bag, he came back in nice board shorts and a t-shirt under a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up. I decided not to say anything while Nick switched off the lights and headed to the door. We took my car to Alex’s, parking next door at Mum’s and dropping our bags inside before walking across.