Chapter Eleven
The train pulled into Grand Central Station right on time. Nick helped me down onto the platform. I was still sleepy and a huge yawn surprised me before I could cover my mouth.
Nicky laughed. "You just aren't a morning person, are you, baby?"
"You make that sound like it's a personality flaw," I said, shivering into my coat. "A lot of people work better in the afternoon and night. We aren't all cheery, happy people in the morning like you."
Nick stroked the side of my face with his fingers, dropping a kiss upon my pouting mouth. "I love you no matter what time of day it is, crabby or not," he teased and I felt the small smile that curved my lips.
He gathered our luggage and then we went out to the street. I was eager for my first real look at New York City. I'd heard so much about it, so many great things. I couldn't wait to experience them all.
Nicky hailed a cab when we walked out the doors. "You're parents aren't picking us up?" I couldn't help but ask.
"No, I told them we'd take a cab so not to bother getting up earlier than normal." He shrugged, helping me into the back seat of a taxi that smelled a bit like a bar. "Besides, this way I get you to myself a bit longer." He gave the cabbie the address and then leaned back, pulling me into his arms.
His kisses were warm, loving, and growing more heated. I responded despite the many times we'd made love on our way here. It was like they'd never happened and I longed to feel him against me again, to find that closeness, that amazingly beautiful love we shared.
His hands snuck under my coat and one curved over my breast, kneading it lightly. My head dropped back and his lips went to my throat, sending my pulse into overdrive and my heart thudding. "What are you doing?" I hissed at him.
"You'd think after this afternoon I wouldn't have to explain all of this to you," he teased, his fingers finding my nipple through the thickness of my clothes and pinching it.
"But the cabbie," I yelped, smacking at his hand.
"Okay," he said, holding his hands up. "I'll behave."
"You don't know how to behave," I stated smugly, though I narrowed my eyes at him.
"I do, too," he threw back at me.
"Oh no, I'm not getting into one of those," I giggled, leaning over and drawing his head down to mine. I kissed him slowly, wondering how I'd gotten so lucky this time around. He was handsome, funny, and we could actually communicate. And, most importantly, he made my toes curl in bed. I could never want for anything more.
The cab pulled up in front of a huge brownstone and I gulped, suddenly anxious about meeting his parents. It was getting close to five-thirty and though it was still dark outside, there were lights on in the house. I stood to the side while Nicky paid the cab and grabbed our bags, quickly pulling down my wrinkled sweater as well and trying to brush some of the wrinkles out of my pants.
"They're awake?" I asked him as he started to head up the steps.
"It's probably Lucy," Nicky said. "My mother never stirs until ten and Dad is up and out of the house by seven every morning. He goes to his club to work out and eat breakfast and then he's in the office until nine or ten at night."
"Even with you home on vacation?" I had to ask, a bit put off by the coldness of it all.
"Not everyone has a family straight out of some kind of television show," he said, grinning down at me. "Your family is like the white version of the Cosbys."
"What?" I gasped, even knowing he was kidding. But it was forgotten as the door opened. A middle aged woman stood there, her uniform spotless and her bright hair pulled back into a bun. It was such a vivid red, it couldn't be real.
"Lucy!" Nicky exclaimed. He dropped the bags and lifted the woman in his arms, spinning her around.
"Shh, Mr. Nicky, you'll wake up the rest of them. Come in, come in. This must be your young lady."
She pushed Nicky away but I could see the affection in her eyes and in the way she glowed from his greeting.
"She sure is. Lucy, this is Kenna McEwen. Kenna, this lovely lady here raised me since I was ten. She kept me out of trouble and used to sneak Twinkies in my lunch when my mom wasn't looking."
"Hello," I said, smiling warmly at her. If she'd been such a big part of Nick's life, I knew I would love her as well.
"You're a pretty one, but way too skinny. Don't you ever feed her, Nicky?" Lucy asked, her eyes resting warmly on his broad-shouldered form. "Never mind, we'll take care of that while you're here. I want to hear all about Michigan, if you aren't too tired from the trip." She shooed us into the house.
It was huge and as alarmingly elegant as it had appeared from the outside. Marble on the floors, silk on the walls and original paintings in every nook and cranny...and that didn't even include the furniture. Furniture made for some duke's ballroom sat upon elegant rugs. It made me even more nervous to meet Nick's parents. Lucy pointed out the salon and then the library. Of course, a place like this would have a salon and a library.
I began to worry that Nick's mom would wear pearls and skirts even when she stayed at home. I hadn't brought anything with me that looked as if it would suit this house. God, how was I supposed to impress this woman into thinking I was near good enough for her son? All I knew was the good country manners my parents had instilled within me.
I could feel the panic attack wanting to take hold and forced myself to take even breaths, even as I followed Nicky back through the beauty of this house. The hallway grew less glamorous and more suitable for a house that I would be comfortable in, then opened into a huge and lavish kitchen.
Sterling silver gleamed everywhere, shone to an impressive shine. The counters were granite and glossy, not a single stain or crumb to be seen. In some ways, those counters made me feel more at home. I relaxed just a bit.
My mother's counters were like that; things put away, not a stain or a crumb in sight.
Nicky took my hand, holding it firmly in his own as he spoke to Lucy of Michigan. He pulled a stool up to one of the wide bars and then grabbed another for me. While he continued to speak, Lucy moved around the kitchen, whipping up breakfast with a grace that was amazing to watch.
She quickly created a huge omelet which she deftly cut in half, adding a heaping scope of fried potatoes and slices of toast. Sitting it down in front of us, she added homemade preserves and a glass of orange juice as well as cups of coffee.
