Alcohol You Later (22)

Oh, Nicholas… What are we going to do with you?

Rolling to my back, I stare up at the ceiling, my mind and heart collectively trying to come up with some way to restore the shattered fragments that make up this complex man to their original form. To make him whole. My greatest dream is that someday he will feel worthy of love, and just maybe, in turn, be more willing to give it. But Nick keeps that heart of his locked up tighter than Fort Knox. His carefully crafted armor is damn near impenetrable.

“Oh, good,” the man of the hour says, sauntering in wearing nothing more than threadbare boxers that leave nothing to the imagination, his hand wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee with my name written all over it. “You’re up.”

“I don’t know about up,” I laugh, my heart leaping at the sight of him. “But I’m getting there.”

He’s, in a word…exuberant—his energy infectious. “I have a surprise for you…”

“Oh?” I ask, sitting up and taking the mug from his hand, my eyes never leaving the bulge tenting his underwear.

“Not that,” he laughs, feigning modesty by cupping a hand over his semi.

I roll my tongue over my lips and waggle my brows. “I wouldn’t complain.”

“No?” he asks, before collapsing onto the mattress on his stomach beside me.

I pout over the loss of access his chosen position provides to the treat he was literally just dangling in front of my face.

“Ever heard of delayed gratification?” He reaches up to brush my frizzy hair over a shoulder with the back of his hand.

“With you?” I scoff. “The thought is absurd.”

Biting back a smile, he quirks his right brow. “Listen, I hear it’s pretty fucking great… They write sonnets and shit about it.”

“Do they?” I narrow my eyes, making sure he knows I’m aware he’s full of shit.

He shrugs, trailing a finger up and down my leg over the blanket. “Thought we might try it out.”

“Why on earth would we do a stupid thing like that?” I ask the question while fully realizing it was I who shut it down last night, but I’ve got a very hungry kitty purring in my panties as a direct result of my own stupidity. It’s not a misstep I care to repeat.

“I don’t know,” he laughs. “It’s supposed to make it better—more intense.” He bites down on his lower lip, and that smoldering look alone giving me butterflies in my vagina.

I’m not too keen on this little experiment of his, but I can tell he’s really into the idea. “Fine,” I begrudgingly agree. “How long do I have to wait?”

“After the show.”

“Wha—” I whine. “But that’s so long.” I hang my lip. “Anyone ever told you you’re shit at giving surprises?”

“That’s not the surprise.”

“Phew.” I swipe a hand over my brow. “Cuz withholding dick is not a surprise, Nicholas… It’s a punishment.”

His mouth falls open in mock horror. “I’ll have you know, pretty girl, that I’m more than just a flashy cock.”

His comment, while intended to be funny, makes me feel like such an asshole. “You are so much more,” I agree, running a hand over his scruffy cheek.

“No need to be getting all weird and emotional, dude.” He rolls his eyes. “Ain’t that serious.”

“Okay,” I say, setting my coffee on the shelf above the headboard, shaking away the little pang of guilt in my chest. “Where’s my surprise?”

“Not here.”

I widen my eyes, urging him to continue.

“I called Aunt Deedee”—Korie’s mom—“last night after you fell asleep and asked her if she wanted to come meet the kids and maybe keep an eye on them so you could enjoy a show before getting strapped down to those little cockblocks for the rest of the tour.”

I choose to ignore the way he just referred to his babies, focusing instead on the fact that he went out of his way to make up for my disappointment over the completely unexpected situation he threw me into. “Wait… you did what?”

“She said yes.”

“I’m going to the show?”

“Might even be able to swing for some backstage passes for ya.” He winks.

My heart does a somersault in my chest. “For real?” I screech.

Seconds later one of the babies starts wailing.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick insists, pulling me to his chest. “Lyle’s on baby duty till she gets here.”

“That’s silly,” I say, pulling away and rolling toward the door. “I can tend to them.”

He yanks me back with enough force that my chest slams into his. “You need to get ready. I have the whole day planned.”

“With me?”

His eyes narrow. “Certainly not with anyone else.”

As if the thought is so out there. I don’t say it, but I can’t help but think it. The boy gives me whiplash. “Where’re we going? How should I dress?”

“Sexy,” he says, rolling his tongue while making a whirring sound. “Just hurry it up because we have to be back by two so I can warm up before the show, and what I have planned could take a while.”