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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but it's long and hopefully worth the wait. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing... enjoy!
Cary


Three weeks into my stay in LA, I was starting to question my decision to come.

I enjoyed spending time with Nick, but it wasn’t like what I’d expected. After our kiss at the Relay for Life, I thought things would be different between us. Instead, our situation was pretty much the same as it had been before, with me sleeping in Nick’s guest room and keeping house for him while he went about his business. Only that part had changed – now, instead of lying around the condo while he got his chemo, he spent his days running around LA, tying up loose ends and talking to the people he still needed to tell about his condition before going public. As a result, I spent a lot of time at the condo by myself, lonely and bored. I didn’t dare complain; I knew that what Nick needed was a caretaker, not a girlfriend, and so I put on a happy face and continued to be supportive, as a friend and nothing more. But inside, I felt a little let down and led on.

The turning point was when Nick said, “So I’ve been thinking… I wanna go to Nashville for a few days before all this transplant stuff starts.”

I looked over at him in surprise. “Nashville?”

He stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the road. “Yeah… I got a house there, ya know, and my lawyer’s there, too. I gotta talk to him about some stuff before I check into the hospital, get my legal shit in order, just in case…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

I swallowed hard, finishing the sentence in my head: …in case you don’t make it out. I wondered if he had an advance directive, a living will, to specify his wishes if he was no longer able to make his own treatment decisions, or if that was some of the “legal shit” he had to take care of.

“Anyway,” he went on abruptly, clearing his throat, “we could do it over the phone, but I thought it’d be better to meet in person, and besides, it’ll be nice to get out of LA for awhile. After this interview, I don’t wanna have to deal with any press or paparazzi for awhile.”

I smiled. “Makes sense.”

We were on our way to the Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank, where The Ellen DeGeneres Show was taped. The show was on hiatus for the summer, but Ellen had agreed to meet Nick there for the exclusive interview he had promised her, which would air once her new season started in September. It was the perfect arrangement for Nick, who had wanted to make the announcement before he went in for the stem cell transplant, while he was still looking and feeling reasonably good. This way, he wouldn’t have to do it in front of an audience, and by the time the story broke, he would hopefully be on the road to recovery.

When we arrived at the studio, Ellen was all smiles at seeing the two of us together. Nick had been on her show before, and of course, she knew me from American Idol. “When you two announce your engagement, make sure you mention I was the one who set you up,” she joked, winking at Nick. Then her jaw suddenly dropped. “That’s not what you’re here to announce, is it?”

I couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not, but Nick played along. “No… I wish,” he said, with a nervous chuckle.

“Well, so what is it? You’re not gonna make me wait until we’re in front of the camera, are you? Come on, spill!”

When Nick told her, the eager smile dropped off her face, and her whole demeanor changed. “…And you picked my show to tell your fans this?” she asked, at one point.

“Why not?” Nick replied, shrugging. “It’s perfect… You’ll keep it light, right? I like that. I’m not ready for the heavy Oprah stuff.”

Ellen laughed weakly. “Well… I’ll certainly try. Rest assured, I’m no Oprah.”

But she was plenty professional, going over the questions she wanted to ask Nick ahead of time, so neither of them would be caught off-guard during the on-camera interview.

There was a hair and makeup crew on set to fix Nick up for the cameras, and by the time he sat down with Ellen, he appeared to have a healthy glow. Dressed in a simple button-down and designer jeans, with his hair styled, he looked gorgeous, and if I didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe the truth he was about to tell Ellen. He didn’t seem sick at all.

Nick had invited me along for moral support, and I was allowed to watch behind the cameras as they filmed the interview. Under different circumstances, it would have been fun to be behind the scenes like that, but there was no joy in seeing Nick spill his guts to Ellen. I just felt sorry for him and sad for all the fans who would watch this interview in shock.

True to her promise, she tried her best to keep it light, focusing on the positives, cracking a few jokes where it seemed appropriate. Nick spoke seriously, but sounded hopeful as he emphasized certain points, like that the treatment he’d already finished had been successful, and that he wanted to finish touring sometime in the new year, once he had recovered from the stem cell transplant. All in all, I thought it went as well as could be expected, and I told Nick so when he was done.

“I hope so,” he muttered darkly, as we left the studio. The optimistic smile he’d maintained for much of the interview had dropped off his face, and he looked pensive. “I’m dreading the fallout after it airs. I just hope the news doesn’t leak before then.”

“That would be terrible,” I said. “The fans deserve to hear about this the right way, straight from your mouth, not from some rumor.”

“I know,” he agreed. As we headed back to his condo, he asked, “So what do you think about Nashville?”

I wasn’t sure if he was asking my opinion or inviting me along. I didn’t want to assume anything, but I hoped it was the latter. “I think it sounds like a great idea,” I replied, figuring that would cover all bases.

He smiled over at me. “You’ll love Nashville.”

I guess that answered my question.

***

A few days later, our plane touched down on the tarmac at Nashville International Airport. Nick rented a car, and we drove forty minutes to Franklin, the suburb of Nashville he called home. Between the beaches and the mountains, Southern California sure was beautiful, but Tennessee, with its gently rolling hills and dark green forests, had its own charm. Looking out the window while he drove, I could see why Nick had wanted to come here.

He lived on the outskirts of a large, upscale neighborhood called Westhaven. The homes we passed were perfectly maintained, their lawns perfectly manicured. Everything seemed bright and shiny and new, but the architecture had a classic feel; many of the larger houses reminded me of old Southern plantation homes, while the smaller ones looked more early twentieth century. They were a far cry from the outdated split-level and ranch houses and modern McMansions that divided my hometown.

When Nick pulled into the driveway of a large, foursquare-style house, I said in surprise, “This is yours?” The house was cute and charming, with pale gray siding and a dormer on the top story, cheerful red brick and a big front porch on the bottom. After seeing his condo, it just wasn’t the type of home I’d expected him to live in. Sandwiched in between a big, gray McMansion and an equally pretentious Tudor-style home, it looked surprisingly modest, not at all like some celebrity palace you’d see on MTV Cribs.

“This is it,” said Nick, coasting on past the house to park in front of the three-car garage in back. “What do you think?”

“I love it!” I replied, eager to see the inside.

As it turned out, the house seemed much bigger and more luxurious on the inside than it had on the outside. Nick showed me through room after room, all tastefully decorated with dark wood and leather furniture, accented with warm, bold colors to compliment the neutral walls. The floors on the main level were all hardwood, while the second story had plush, beige carpet, and there were white baseboards and crown molding throughout the whole house. It was clear to me that he hadn’t decorated the place himself; the artwork on the walls were generic landscapes and still-life paintings. Still, I could see touches of him throughout, especially when he took me upstairs, where his platinum record plaques lined the lofted landing at the top of the staircase. There were more in his huge office, which held a few pieces of music equipment, and on the walls of a smaller TV room, where his drumset sat in the corner, next to a huge, cream leather, wrap-around couch.

“Wow, Nick… this is amazing,” I said, digging my big toe into the fibers of the red shag rug that sat under the couch.

“Thanks,” he replied casually, slipping past me to sink down onto the couch. The leather squeaked underneath him as he made himself comfortable, stretching out his long legs and leaning his head back leisurely.

I saw then how much he needed this trip before he went back into the trenches of transplant hell. He had already spent two more days at the hospital, being poked and prodded and tested and evaluated to make sure he was fit for the transplant. I knew his doctors were concerned about his heart, since high doses of chemo can damage it, and his was already weakened. But it would take a few days for them to process all of the results, so Nick had been granted this reprieve. Besides meeting with his lawyer, he had no other business to take care of here, and I hoped he would be able to relax and take his mind off everything. I also hoped we could spend more time together.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” I returned, as I sat down next to him.

“No problem. I’m glad we came.”

“Me too.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I looked around, while Nick just stared down at the rug. I expected him to turn on the TV or something, but eventually, he just stood up and announced, “I’m taking you out tonight.”

I looked up at him in surprise, and my heart soared, but I tried to play it cool. “Aren’t you tired?” I asked, thinking of our early start, the long flight, and the drive out of Nashville. Heck, I was tired, so I couldn’t imagine he wasn’t.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna just sit around. I’m gonna be sitting around, lying around, in the hospital for three weeks when I do the transplant. Gotta live it up, make every day count before then.” One side of his mouth jerked upward in a little half-smile, and then he asked, “Why? You’re not too tired, are you?”

Too tired for a date with Nick Carter? Never. I smiled back and answered quickly, “Nope. Let’s go out.”

“Good.” He grinned. “There’ll be plenty of time for sleeping later.” But the way he said it, with a wink and that little smirk of his, made me think he wasn’t talking about just sleeping. My heart started to race with anticipation.

As I got up and followed him out of the room, I decided Nick was right: I was going to love Nashville.

***

He took me out to eat at an Italian place in the city called Valentino’s. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any significance to the name of the restaurant. Wishful thinking, probably.

Still, the place sounded romantic, and it was – intimate dining rooms, filled with tiny tables set for two or four, each with a crystal vase of flowers in the middle. It was just the right amount of fancy, without being too hoity-toity. The tables were dressed with black linen tablecloths and white linen napkins, folded into pyramids that sat in front of the crystal wineglasses, and the menus didn’t list any meals under twenty dollars or in English, but at least the descriptions were in English, so I had some idea of what I was ordering, even if I wasn’t sure how to pronounce it.

“What are you getting?” I asked Nick, once I’d narrowed the choices down to lasagna or a fettuccine dish with meatballs.

“I’m thinking the Fettuccine alla Pescatora,” he said, putting on an accent to pronounce the Italian words.

I giggled, looking for it on the menu so I could read the description. “Shrimp, scallops, mussels, clams, calamari, extra virgin olive oil, garlic, white wine, and fresh parsley.” I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the thought of eating clams and squid. “Mmm,” I said, without much enthusiasm.

Nick laughed at the look on my face. “Not a seafood fan, I take it?”

“Not so much. Sorry.” I blame my less-than-distinguished palate on my father. He’s always been a meat and potatoes kind of guy. His idea of Italian is a thin crust supreme at Pizza Hut, and except for there, he won’t go to any restaurant that doesn’t have a burger and fries on the menu. If it weren’t for my more cultured friends, I’d probably have never experienced anything but classic, American fare. As it turns out, I like a lot of different things, but I guess I’m a little old-fashioned – I’d much rather have sausage meatballs with my pasta than squid.

“No need to apologize.” He smiled easily. “What are you getting?”

I decided on the fettuccine and meatballs. When the waiter brought it out, I was suddenly reminded of Lady and the Tramp – you know what scene. Sitting there at the tiny table with Nick, the big plate of pasta and meatballs in front of me, the brick wall behind me, the Italian music playing softly in the background, I thought of Lady and the Tramp sharing spaghetti and decided Nick had picked the perfect place. It really was romantic. Not that we were going to start slurping on the same noodle, but maybe, if I was lucky, I’d get another kiss that night.

We split a slice of tiramisu for dessert, and I finished my second glass of wine, feeling warm and just the slightest bit tipsy. Nick had just had one glass, and I hadn’t said anything – he’d been off chemo for a month, and anyway, a glass of red wine is supposed to be good for you. Once he’d taken care of the check, we went outside to have the valet bring his car around.

The night was overcast and misty with a light rain that seemed to float in the air, rather than fall. “Should have thought to bring an umbrella… sorry,” Nick apologized, as we stood under the awning in the narrow entryway.

“It’s okay… I don’t mind getting a little wet.” To prove my point, I stepped out from under the awning to move out of the way of a family leaving the restaurant. Even after they had strolled off, I stayed on the sidewalk, letting the drizzle fall on my bare arms and face. My hair was going to frizz out, and my dress would show the water stains, but I didn’t care. I wanted to show him I wasn’t as prissy as I looked in my red lipstick and heels. There was something romantic about being out in the rain, and for the second time since we’d been there, I wished he would kiss me again.

He didn’t, though, just came out and stood beside me, until the valet pulled his car up to the curb. We got in, and Nick turned the air conditioner down and the radio up. Soon we were cruising out of Nashville, warm and dry, with the music blasting. Katy Perry’s new single “Teenage Dream” came on, and automatically, I started singing along. “You… make… me… feel like I’m living a… teen… age… dream… the way you turn me on. I… can’t… sleep… Let’s run away and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back. My… heart… stops… when you look at me. Just… one… touch… Now baby, I believe. This… is… real… so take a chance and don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back…”

Tossing my damp hair in time to the music, I felt looser and lighter than I had in months… probably since the time Nick got me drunk and had me dancing around in the back of a cab, singing along to Lady Gaga. That was the day I’d met him… and the night he’d told me about his cancer. Looking back, that drunken cab ride was like my last moment of innocence before everything changed. My life ever since had revolved not only around Nick, but around his illness, and for the first time, I felt like I could finally forget – or at least push it to the back of my mind, where it wouldn’t bother me. This trip to Tennessee was proving to be the perfect escape for both of us.

When the song ended and the radio cut to commercials, Nick turned it down and looked over at me, smiling. “Anyone ever told you you look like her? Katy Perry, I mean.”

I smiled back. “Actually, yeah… Kara DioGuardi said that at my first audition for Idol.” I’d taken it as a compliment; I wasn’t out to copy her or anything, but I liked Katy Perry’s colorful, vintage style.

“You can sing circles around her, though,” Nick added, making me blush.

“You’re sweet.”

He made an adorable face, scrunching up his nose and flashing a toothy grin. I giggled. In that instant, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world, riding shotgun next to Nick Carter on the way back to his house. The feeling bubbled up inside me, overwhelming me with sheer joy, and by the time we’d pulled back into the driveway, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m glad we came here,” I said. “It was nice, going out tonight, like a date.”

He smiled. “I had fun, too.” But even though I was glad he’d enjoyed himself, that wasn’t what I’d hoped he would say. I wanted him to offer me some reassurance, some confirmation that this had, in fact, been a date. I still wasn’t sure where I stood with him. The last few weeks had me all mixed up. How did he think of me? As a caretaker? A friend? More than a friend?

He hadn’t shown me any real sign of affection since we’d left Illinois, but I hadn’t given up hope that there was something there. Why else would he have kissed me, if he didn’t feel something? He had just been preoccupied with the whole transplant business. Maybe now that he was away from LA again, he’d be able to think about something else… like me. But maybe it was my turn to make the first move.

I was grateful for the wine I’d had at dinner; it made me braver than usual. As soon as he shut off the engine, I unbuckled my seatbelt, leaned over, and kissed him. It was just a peck on the cheek; my lips grazed his jawline, that was all, but just as I’d hoped, he turned his head toward me, giving me the perfect angle to kiss him again – a real kiss this time, full-on and deep.

I felt him react, his lips pressing against mine, his arm sliding around my shoulders to pull me closer. I opened my mouth, letting his tongue slip in and tangle with mine, and like a couple of teenagers, we made out in the driveway for a few minutes before we stopped long enough to get out of the car.

But it didn’t end there. As soon as we got inside the house, we were back in each other’s arms. I had flipped a switch and turned him on; he was horny, flattening me against the back of the door with his frantic kisses. How long since he’d been with a woman? I wondered. I had shared a bus and a hotel room with him on tour; he hadn’t brought back any groupies. As far as I knew, he hadn’t slept with anyone since he’d broken up with Lauren, since before he was diagnosed with cancer. I could tell by the way his hands groped over my body that he’d been deprived a long time. I’m not normally an easy lay, but in this case, I was happy to provide.

He took me into his room, the largest of the four bedrooms, and flopped me down onto his bed. I sank into the cream-colored duvet as he crawled on top of me, bracing himself with his arms so he could keep on kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers under the collar of his shirt. Untucked, it hung loose from his trim body, until he finally got tired of it getting in the way and took it off. Sitting back on his haunches, he tossed the t-shirt aside and offered me a little smirk. “You wanna keep going?” he asked.

“Yeah…” I breathed. My heart was thumping so hard, I was sure he’d be able to feel it if he got down close to me again. “Do you have…?”

“Yeah… hold on one sec.” He got off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. I sat up, reaching around for the zipper in the back of my dress. “Let me,” he said when he came back a few seconds later, stripped down to his boxers and carrying a box of condoms.

I turned without a word and shivered with pleasure as I felt his fingers on my back, fumbling with the zipper. Cool air hit my bare skin, causing goosebumps to rise, as he parted the material and slowly slid the dress straps down my shoulders. I freed my arms and lowered the front, revealing my strapless bra. Soon that was gone, too, as he undid the clasp in the back and climbed onto the bed to face me again.

I was surprised to find that I wasn’t embarrassed to expose my body to him, maybe because I’d already seen so much more of his, and because although he was beautiful, he wasn’t perfect either. I tried not to look at the little, round lump of the port in his chest, but I felt it, hard against my breast, as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. His skin was warm, and my goosebumps melted away as our bodies pressed together, burrowing back down into the soft bedding.

Lying there, underneath his warm weight, I closed my eyes in bliss and blocked everything out, everything but him and his body and his lips and his kisses. I wished I could stay in the moment forever, for in that moment, there was nothing else weighing on my mind. No worries, no regrets. Nothing else mattered – nothing but Nick and me.

***