Page 2 of What Happens This Christmas
Finally, my gaze landed on the watch. Water resistant with an emerald crystal glass. The sparkle from the way the light hit it practically shone in my eyes and made me consider putting sunglasses on. There was nothing quite like a new piece ofjewelry. Like everything else, it dulled with time, but in the beginning, it was pretty and polished. It was like there was an unspoken mission for each piece to be used enough to appear worn and tired until the shine wore off. Timing was everything.
“I’d like to buy it,” I told the gentleman as I studied it in detail, the two-toned three-link band that would make my husband’s forearm look more attractive.
Truth be told, I had a thing for a man’s hands and arms. Like a moth to a flame. Especially when it came to my husband. God, I didn’t think it would matter how many years we were married. I’d still be able to close my eyes and feel his hands touching me, his arms wrapping around me.
He was built with corded muscles in his arms, slutty veins in his hands, and long fingers. It wasn’t really a wonder that his grandfather had always told him that he had the potential to be a brilliant pianist—he had the fingers for it. And other things…
I went back to the counter and allowed the salesman to do his job, boxing up the last-minute addition. I was in a hurry, needing to get home to Nick, but wouldn’t dream of rushing him. There was something special about a man who took pride in his work, and this man clearly did, so I allowed him the appearance of the luxury of time.
A part of me wondered if I should wait until Christmas to give Nick the watch, but something that magnificent deserved to be enjoyed right away. I’d give it to him tonight. The watch would surely make up for my lack of punctuality for dinner.
Dinner had been, and always would be, served promptly at seven. By our private chef. In the dining room where French doors opened to an expansive private terrace, and we could revel in the views of the city. In all my years, I’d never really been tardy. It was my rule, after all, but sometimes exceptions had to be made. Nick would understand.
Outside, my driver was focused on the road and taking me back to the penthouse where we lived on 76th Street in Manhattan. It wasn’t a long drive, but with most taxis accounted for by people looking to make it home for the evening, the roads weren’t exactly accommodating my concern for the time.
At this point, drinks and appetizers had probably already been served, our chef waiting to bring out the main course. Nick would be alone, but he wouldn’t be bothered by that fact. He didn’t mind a little solitary peace. In fact, sometimes I thought he preferred it, something I chose not to dwell on. I wouldn’t be able to change him, and worrying about it would only cause wrinkles. Heaven knew, I had a few more years before I needed to concern myself with those dreadful telltale signs of aging.
I moved to open the window on my side in the back of the town car.
I couldn’t imagine a better place to reside than New York. Nothing beat it. Shopping came pretty close, but nope. Maybe sex at one time, but lately, we’d been in a bit of a dry spell, so I couldn’t count that.
I inhaled, breathing in the distinct smell that was an intoxicating blend of savory and nostalgic. Like the time I got a lightly salted bagel from the corner deli, or the roasted chestnuts from the street vendor one winter night that were coated in spiced melted butter that spread to my fingers. The butter had threatened to stain my cashmere sweater if I so much as grazed it.
It was everything about the city that made me feel…alive.
The congested streets where traffic never seemed to move but people felt the need to shout useless profanities. Especially taxi drivers, they were known for that. It was “out of my way” this and “kiss my ass” that. The profanities got a little tiring, though, so it was nice to have a chauffeur, so I no longer had to hear them. Not that I was naïve enough to think that our driverdidn’t have a tendency to hurl useless curse words at people in his mind.
The snow that settled in the winter months, snowflakes descending in a beautiful dance with twists and turns as they fell. It took the city as a blank canvas and turned it into a winter wonderland until another season blew through. Like now, as our driver walked ahead of me, carrying my bags in his hands, as he led us to the doorman of the building where I resided with Nick in our duplex penthouse.
The light snow was falling at a steady rate. By morning there’d be a blanket of snow on the ground. I wouldn’t be able to wear high heels, especially my favorite black leather stiletto boots, which was why I’d chosen to get use out of them while I still could. For now, though, the snow was slowly hitting my Rina Levana pinstriped suit until the tiny flakes dissolved from my warmth, especially as I entered the toasty lobby. When I’d left this afternoon, it’d been chilly, but not snowing, so there was no need for a coat. Rina Levana knew how to make clothes for a New Yorker, choosing the right fabrics and lining it appropriately. The snow made that point somewhat different, though. It was a good thing I was home.
The doorman escorted me upstairs, placing my bags just inside my door. In a twist of good fortune, our housekeeper was passing by the gallery-style foyer, her hands laden with dry cleaning that must have been delivered for Nick.
“Good evening, Mrs. Crane. It’s lovely to see you home. I’ll put those away for you,” she said, using her pointy elbow to signal to the bags.
I smiled, holding onto the dainty strap of my handbag. “I appreciate that. It’s quite nice to be home,” I responded, clearing my throat as she nodded and walked by me.
Every member of our staff had been with us nearly from the very beginning. They were practically family at this point. It alsodidn’t hurt that they knew us so well that they could anticipate our every need.
I hung my purse in the coat closet and slipped the gloves off my hands. There was no use in searching through the bags to procure Nick’s watch. I’d tell him about it, and that would be enough until the bags were unpacked in our room. I was late as it was.
I moved gently, the corners of my lips turning upward as I strolled into the dining room, my eyes meeting Nick’s light blue ones. His glare was intense, it felt like he was the sun, and I was an ice cube, lying out on the hot tar, him prepared to destroy me with but a few rays.
That was the thing about Nick. He was powerful and strong, but also stoic and sometimes unreadable. It could be argued that I didn’t always want to read him, but I didn’t believe that. I just wasn’t as attuned to everything that was going on in his head. I had my own life, after all.
A life I worked very hard to build and maintain.
A life that was accepted by our friends.
I’d stared at and studied every plane and angle of Nick, every hard line, every muscle that made up his six foot two stature, and yet, it would never be enough. Everything about him demanded to be not just remembered but worshipped and longed for. He had soft hair the color of obsidian that I’d held onto like a life preserver more times than I could count as he drove into me, causing me to see a sky full of stars. He had a strong, square jaw that had a hard jut to it. Every time I ran my hand along his stubborn chin, I contemplated whether it had the ability to cut glass.
Even now as he leaned his arms on the wooden table, his muscles were practically bulging. They were recognizable through the white fabric of his dress shirt he wore with thesleeves rolled up, and I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes from him. Nor did I want to.
“Candy,” he greeted me in return, his voice deep with a distinctive huskiness to it that was borderline gravelly.
“Nick,” I said, his name coming out as a mere breath.
His eyes traveled with me as I took my seat at the table, across from him. He set his wineglass down in front of him.
