Evil In Carnations (5 page)

“Did it feel somehow like a commitment? Like you would be giving up your independence, or your privacy, or, I don’t know . . . control?”

Marco studied me for a long moment. “Do you feel like you’re giving those things up?”

“Maybe. I mean, after the whole law school disaster, and my near miss with Pryce, and trying to make Bloomers profitable, I feel like I’m just now regaining some control over my life.”

“Sunshine, it’s only a weekend away.”

I could sense Marco’s frustration, but I felt I was getting closer to some important truth. “Then why didn’t it feel right to you with other women?”

He took a long time to answer, then said very softly, “Because they weren’t you.” Then he took my hand in his and, with his other hand, slipped off my glove. Letting it drop onto his lap, he raised my fingers to his lips and kissed each one in turn. Then he turned my hand over and traced circles around the inside of my palm as he talked quietly.

“I feel safe with you, Abby. It doesn’t seem like I’m giving up anything by going away with you. It’s more like gaining something I’ve never had before.”

My throat was so dry I couldn’t speak. I watched, transfixed, as he bent his dark head over my palm and pressed his mouth against the fleshy center. My senses reeled. My hand felt as though it were liquefying. Tingles of desire pulsed up my arm, then tunneled down deep inside me. I lost awareness of everything outside our intimate circle. It was undoubtedly the most sensual experience of my life—and it was all coming from my hand.

Still, I couldn’t shut out that cold, persistent voice of reason.
Do you believe him? Can you trust him?

I studied Marco with as much objectivity as I could muster, given that he was nuzzling my palm. But there was such purity in his gaze, such earnestness, that I knew he was speaking from his heart. This was Marco, after all, a man I knew to be brave and sincere, who had always watched my back, and who had saved me on numerous occasions—and
he
felt safe with
me.

With my hand still in his grasp, I drew him toward me. “I want to go with you, Marco. . . .”

He looked up expectantly.

“But I’m”—I paused, searching for the right word—“
concerned.
I don’t know what I’d do if it ever came up again that you didn’t believe in me.”

“I never stopped believing
in
you, Abby. You’d put me in an impossible position. I can say I’m sorry a hundred times, but until you trust that our relationship can weather a few storms, it won’t make a difference. I don’t know about your parents, but mine never agreed on everything, and it wasn’t that they didn’t believe in each other. They simply had different views.”

I paused to consider my parents’ relationship, remembering some rocky times that I feared would end in their divorce, and realized that Marco was right: Disagreements didn’t have to mean the end of a relationship.

“Come to Key West with me. It’ll be just us, away from work and family and friends and all the stresses in our lives. Just you and me.” He kissed my palm again, then gazed at me with eyes so sincere my heart expanded twice over. Maybe a getaway would be the perfect remedy for us, a time to sort things out and heal our wounds.

“I think the last weekend in January is open,” I told him.

Marco smiled, his eyes glittering in the glow of the streetlights. “Done.”

“I have only one request,” I said. “We can’t tell anyone we’re going.”

“You got it, baby.”

We kept our trip a secret for over a week, going about business as usual with no one the wiser. But then Nikki’s boyfriend, Scott, broke up with her unexpectedly, causing Nikki, as well as our clandestine plan, to unravel.

The more Nikki pined for Scott, the more depressed she got and the more ice cream she ate, until I feared she’d make herself ill. I urged her to get back into the dating scene, but she was afraid of being rejected again, so she stayed home, feeling sorry for herself. And because I felt sorry for her, I tried to include her in our activities, but that didn’t go over well with Marco, especially coming at a time when we were trying to fix things between us.

Then, late on a Sunday night, a mere five days before we were to leave for Key West, everything came to a head.

“Your building super should be more on top of things,” Marco grumbled, scowling at a burned-out lightbulb overhead, as I rummaged through my purse for my key.

“I know. I told Mr. Bodenhammer about it three days ago.”

Marco ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, pressing his lips against my neck as he murmured, “We could go back to my apartment.”

“It’s after one o’clock in the morning, and we’re already here.”

“Are you sure Nikki will be asleep?”

“She’s depressed and dateless. Trust me, she’ll be asleep. She sleeps a lot.”

I found the key at last and opened the door. It had barely closed behind us when Marco braced his arms on either side of my body and leaned in for a deep, hot kiss. I dropped my purse on the floor and kissed him back, until our passions took over and we began fumbling at each other’s clothing.

“Bedroom,” I managed between kisses.

We stumbled past the kitchen and into the tiny living room, where the sound of sniffling caused us to freeze.

I felt for the wall switch—and there sat Nikki on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, her big doe eyes red and watery, and her mouth in a rippling line that signaled sobs on the horizon. Simon lay beside her, paws twitching as he dreamed, oblivious to her misery.

“Nikki, what happened?”

“Nothing.”
Sniffle.

“Why are you about to cry?”

“What makes you think I’m about to cry? Just because everyone in the world is out on a date tonight? Because only losers sit on the sofa watching other people make out?”

With a muffled sob, she threw off the blanket and ran out of the room, followed by Simon, who clearly thought she had woken him to play tag. Down the hallway, I heard her bedroom door slam. A moment later, the door opened and I heard a thud. The door shut again and at once Simon came trotting toward Marco, the only male he’d ever bonded with. Obviously Nikki wasn’t up for feline company, either.

Marco crouched down to rub Simon’s head, causing him to purr loudly and butt his head against Marco’s knee. “You’d better go talk to Nikki.”

“It’s pointless, Marco. I’ve talked to her until I’m blue in the face, and blue doesn’t come easy with these freckles. Trust me—nothing I say seems to help.”

Loud sobs could be heard coming from Nikki’s bedroom.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked, pretending not to hear her.

Marco raised his head to gaze at me in disbelief.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll go talk to her—again.”

Giving Simon a final scratch behind the ear, Marco rose and came toward me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t you like to wait while I talk to her?” I entwined my hands behind his neck and leaned into him. “Our weekend doesn’t have to end right now, Salvare.”

“I think it already ended.” He cast a pointed look toward Nikki’s room.

“I’m truly sorry about that.”

He pulled me into his arms and gazed down at me with those sexy brown eyes. “That’s okay, Sunshine. We’ll have next weekend in Key West all to ourselves. Imagine us snuggled into that cozy little bed-and-breakfast just blocks away from Mallory Square. We’ll watch the sunset from the pier, then hit the town for a few hours, maybe listen to a band at Sloppy Joe’s or Schooner Wharf, then go back to the inn and . . .” He lifted an eyebrow.

Oh, baby.
“I can’t wait.”

“Me either.”

After a long, dreamy kiss, Marco left. As I locked the door behind him, I thought,
Key West, here we come!
I just hoped I could get Nikki out of her funk before we went so I could leave with a clear conscience.

I poured two glasses of cabernet and carried them to Nikki’s room. “Hey, open up. I’ve got full glasses in my hands.”

Nikki opened the door, then went to sit on her bed, long legs folded beneath her, back pressed against the headboard, a purple stuffed bear hugged against her chest. I put her wine on the bedside table, then sat on the edge of her bed. “Talk to me.”

“About what? Being a big loser?”

“Will you stop throwing yourself a pity party? It’s getting old.”

“Well, I
am
a loser. I mean, look at me, twenty-six years old and all alone again. And there you two are—kissing, cuddling, holding hands, showing off your coupleness.”

“Coupleness? Is that even a word?”

“Shut up. You know what I mean. You flaunt being together.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh, please. Every other word out of your mouth is
Marco
. I get it, Abby. You’re happy with him.”

“Well, excuse me for being happy.” Scowling, I took a sip of wine, but didn’t enjoy it.

Nikki sighed miserably. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I’m glad you’re back together. I just wish you wouldn’t be so . . . I don’t know . . . smug about it.”

“Okay, now you’re pissing me off. I am not being smug, or trying to flaunt my relationship. In fact, we’ve bent over backward to include you in our plans.”

“Well, thanks for the favor.” She tossed the bear aside and got up. “Nothing like trying to make me feel worse.”

Time for some tough love. “Poor Nikki Ann Hiduke,” I said, grabbing both glasses and following her to the kitchen, “can’t find a decent date. Well,
here’s
an idea. Get off your duff and go look for a guy, instead of whining in my ear every day about not
having
a guy.”

She pulled a carton of ice cream out of the freezer, slammed the door, and whirled to glare at me. “Get off my
duff
? Who says
duff
?”

“I was trying to be nice. But you know what? I’m sick of having this conversation with you. For the last time, stop being such a coward and get back out in the dating scene.”

Nikki shoved the carton back into the freezer, then marched toward the living room in indignation. But by the time she reached the sofa, she was crying again. “You’re right,” she bawled into her hands. “I
am
a coward. I’m afraid of being dumped again. It hurts so much, Abby. I love Scott!”

I put down our glasses and went to hug her. “I’m sorry, Nik. I know you’ve been deeply hurt. It’s totally understandable. I’ve been there, remember?”

“I thought we were going to get engaged at Christmas,” she sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was two months away from walking down the aisle when Pryce pulled that petal-strewn rug right out from under me. Try explaining that to your family and friends.”

“I’ll wind up an old maid,” she wailed. “I’ll take in stray cats and grow out my fingernails until they curl and everyone will call me the crazy cat lady of New Chapel.”

Back to the pity party. “Okay, stop that. You’re going to find someone.”

“I don’t know where to look!”

“Well . . . how about the hospital?”

She wiped tears off her face with the backs of her hands. “Yeah, right. The doctors are engaged, gay, or married and wanting to fool around. Great selection there.”

“How about the single guys at Marco’s bar?”

“College students and lawyers, all of whom drink too much. No, thanks.”

“You could try an online dating service.”

“Are you serious? I’d probably choose a too-good-to-be-true, ‘loves holding hands and walking on the beach at night’ guy who turns out to be an ax murderer.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s not that hard to meet someone. If I tried, I’ll bet I could find a really nice guy for you in one week.”

She lifted her head and gazed at me with watery eyes. “You’ll do that for me?”

“What? No, wait, I said
if
I tried, not—”

“Thank you, Abby,” she cried, and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing so hard my eyeballs bulged. Then she picked up her glass of wine and held it to mine. “To my best friend, the one person in the entire world I can count on.”

Hear, hear?

A
t noon on Monday, instead of grabbing a bite to eat from the deli on the square, I rushed home to share some exciting news with Nikki. She was standing at the kitchen counter making herself a tuna-salad-and-cream-cheese sandwich on white bread, with a side of ice cream, something the old Nikki never would have eaten.

“Hey, Nik, you’ll never guess what I saw in the
New Chapel News
this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know—news?”

“Ha. Funny. Try an ad for a speed-dating event.” I held the newspaper ad in front of her. “See? Listen to this: ‘Meet your dream date and you’ll be on cloud nine. Register today for the Cloud Nine Date Night event. Nine dates, nine minutes. If you don’t meet at least one person you’d like to see again, come to the next event for free.’ ”

“It’s being held in Maraville,” she said with a scoff.

“So? That’s a mere forty minutes away. Come on, Nik. It’s a win-win situation.”

She ran her index finger down the flat side of the knife, then licked the cream cheese off her fingertip. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m horrible at picking out guys. Look at my track record. Five guys in two years. How can I trust my instincts?”

“Nikki, listen to me. You’ll have nine guys to choose from. Nine!”

“How do I know the one I pick won’t be a loser?”

“You
don’t
know. But at least give it a try.”

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. I watched in dismay as she took her plate into the living room and turned on the TV.

Great. Now what?

“Come on, Nikki. How can I find someone for you if you won’t work with me?”

“No speed dating.”