"I like the red and silver."
"Really?"
"Really."
Heather shrugged and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. We were sitting in the middle of the stationery store with three huge ass books of invitation styles in front of us. They all looked the same.
"We have to get these out, like...yesterd ay," she said. "The wedding's in six weeks."
"I know," I said. I tapped the book. "Let's go with these."
She bit her lip. I looked around, my eyes stopping on a large ornate 'L' on the wall.
Sigh.
Heath and I had been comfortably cohabitating in LA since the tour ended. She had been working on her book and I...well I was getting ready for a quick four-week solo tour.
"We'll go with this style," Heather finally told the lady who had been following us like a piranha. The lady snatched up the book and disappeared to the computer to plug all the info in.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay alone here while I'm gone?" I asked, turning towards her in the swivel chair. Heath looked over at me and smiled.
"I have to finish my book. I'm so close. Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"Well..."
Heather was in denial. I was pretty sure of it. I hadn't heard her mention the pregnancy once. She had almost given me a heart attack two weeks ago when I came home to find her pouring wine. She had looked at me like I was the idiot when I told her she couldn't have a glass.
I figured her denial had gone on long enough.
"Heath, why haven't you gone to a doctor? Don't you think we need to make sure everythings okay? I'm not an expert but--"
"Nick, what...what in h-double-hockey sticks are you talking about?"
I glanced down. If anything, she seemed to have lost weight.
"Well, I'm no expert, but shouldn't you be showing a little more?"
Her hands flew to her top. "Nick, they're already falling out. Don't be a pig."
My eyes widened. "I don't mean those," I stressed, even though I wouldn't have minded if they were falling out a big more. "I mean..." I waved my hand towards her stomach. Her mouth dropped open.
"What?"
I glanced around. We were the only people in the store, but I still lowered my voice. "The b-a-y-b."
"What's that?"
"You don't know what a BABY is?" I said. The clerk looked up from the computer. Heather's face turned scarlet.
"A baby? Nick, what's going on?"
Now I was sure of it. I was going to have to have her committed. We'd have to call off the wedding. She'd be sitting in the padded cell in a straight jacket.
"The baby? You have to be like four months along now. Maybe five. Which is it?"
Heather's mouth fell open and began to move like a fish. She glanced around the room almost like she was prepared to be Punk'd.
"Who--who told you I was--"
"J called me that morning in Vegas. He heard it on TMZ. TMZ got it from a maid who emptied the wastebaskets in your room. And--"
"Nick, I'm...I'm not pregnant. Oh my God. How could you believe TMZ? Don't you think I would have told you if I was---was---"
Heather bounced up and grabbed her purse. I slowly slid off the stool.
"You're not?"
"No!" she hissed. I could see the mortification in her eyes. "How could you even think that? You've been...sleepin g with me." She finished in a mumble.
"Well, I didn't know the timeline for these things."
"Nick, I had you go get me a box of tampons last week."
I bit my cheek. "Oh yeah."
She shook her head, the halo of blonde floating around her angry face. "Great. How many other people think I'm pregnant? Can't a chick just eat a box of f-friggin Fudge Rounds every now and then?"
"Heath--"
She held up a hand, her eyes glowing in a cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs way. "Now it makes sense. Brian thought I was pregnant. And you---you were only being old Nick because you thought--" She snorted. "Stupid. STUPID!"
"What's stupid?" I asked. "Where are you going?" I motioned towards the stationery lady. "We need to finish--"
"Finish them yourself!" she called out. The bell above the door tinkled as she practically ran outside. I sank back down on the barstool.
"Is it Nickolas with a 'h' or a 'k'?" the clerk asked me after a long, quiet minute.
"F," I muttered. I pressed my chin into my palm.
"As in totally fucked."
Heather
I whipped out my cell phone the moment I got out onto the street. I’d pulled it out of my pocket so viciously that I almost dropped it on the tar. I dialed Brian’s number so fast, my fingers were like lightening.
But it wasn’t Brian that picked up.
“Hello.”
It was a woman.
I stared at the phone, confused. “Um… Hello?”
“Hello?”
“I think I have the wrong number,” I stammered, confused. I’d come to a stop in the street and I heard the stationary store’s bell jingle and the door slam and Nick’s stupid big feet slapping the pavement as he ran up behind me. I let out a sigh as he caught up and wrapped his arms around me.
“Baby,” he said, his voice pleading. I turned around and cracked my hand across his face. He stepped back, looking stunned. “What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.
“For thinking I was pregnant,” I said, glowering at him. “You can’t just ask me like a normal human being, no. You have to tell everyone and their mother about it before you’ve even confirmed it, then act like you have a right to be all hurt…”
“I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to think I didn’t want you to be!” he snapped.
“Of course you didn’t want me to be pregnant,” I growled, “You’ve never wanted kids.”
“Maybe one.”
“Nick, you’ve been f-f-fucking with my head and it’s not okay,” I hissed. God it felt good to finally get the actual word I meant out.
He glanced around, “Babe, I’m not fucking with your head.”
“Yes you are, being the perfect man ,being so compassionate! You haven’t been like that in months.”
“I’m being like that now, though,” he argued.
“You’re just waiting for a chance to go sleep with Lauren Kitt. I’m not stupid. You’re probably going to be banging her every night while you’re gone on this stupid tour.”
Nick’s eyes looked sad and I wondered why - if they were sad because I thought this of him, or because I was right, or because of some other, unknown reason – and he said, “Lauren’s gone,” he said, “I don’t even know where she is or how to contact her, okay? All ties are cut with Lauren Kitt.”
Then something really weird went through my mind.
Nick had asked me how long had I been sleeping with Brian.
My eyes widened, “You think I’ve slept with Brian?” I demanded.
Nick blinked in surprise, “Say what?”
“YOU!” I pushed him in the chest. “You think I slept with Brian.”
Nick hesitated. “Haven’t you?”
“OH MY GOD,” I yelled. I turned and started walking away, my face as scarlet red as anything, my blood boiling. He took two strides and caught up to me and stared at me as we walked forward through the crowded LA streets.
“You’ve never slept with Brian?” he asked, surprised. He caught my arm. “Never?”
I looked at Nick in the face.
“Never,” I said.
He got a far away look on his face. “I wonder what he meant in that letter…”
I raised my eyebrow. “What letter?”
Nick’s eyes met mine.
Brian
I was helping Mr. Johnson and Chris redo the outside of the tree house so that it had a porch. I’m not sure why they decided to do it now, considering Tessa was nowhere near old enough to use it yet, but it was an interesting summer project and it came with a lot of homemade sweet tea and nails to pound. Every nail I sledged with the hammer I imagined was Nick.
“You hear from Heather lately?” Chris asked.
I shook my head, “Not since her and Nick went back to LA.”
“I can’t believe she’s staying with that jackass,” Chris commented.
“Someone hand me a screw driver,” called Mr. Johnson. Chris grabbed the screw driver off the floor of the tree house and handed it out the window. “Thanks.”
I was sitting in a folding chair sipping sweet tea. They were lucky they’d gotten me into the tree, house or no house. There was no way in hell I was going out on the branches. But I’d gladly keep the fellas company. Chris had been in and out onto the branches all afternoon.
The screw driver came back in the window.
Chris put it into its spot in the tool box. He looked at me. “He still seeing that bitch?”
“Lauren?” I asked. I shook my head. “Nawh. Lauren took off. She’s not so bad, though, don’t blame her for Nick’s shortcomings. She’s actually a sweet girl.”
“She’s The other woman, Brian,” Chris said with a shrug, “I don’t care if she’s freaking Oprah, I don’t like her. She’s a bitch no matter what she’s like.”
“Wrench.”
Chris grabbed the wrench and held it out the window.
“I talked to her,” I said, “A couple times. Nick broke it off with her and that was that. Then Heather got pregnant…”
“Shh,” Chris covered his mouth. He glanced at the window. “She still hasn’t called mom.”
“Still?” I demanded. “That’s insane. Why is she waiting so long?”
Chris shrugged. “I mean there is a waiting time – a time when it’s safest to tell people about it, but still. It’s been awhile, she should’ve called by now…”
“Other wrench.”
Chris exchanged the wrenches.
“I just can’t believe the wedding is less than two months away,” I said.
“Me either.” Chris’ voice was rough around the edge.
“I mean in like 40 days your dad’s gonna walk her down the aisle and Nick’s gonna be her husband it’s gonna be –“ I sighed. “She’s gonna be Heather Carter.”
Chris smirked, “Not ringing any bells for you?” he asked. “Not like Heather Littrell would?”
“Shut up,” I laughed, but my cheeks pinkened anyways.
“Why don’t you just tell her you love her?” Chris asked.
“I did,” I said quietly, “I sent her a letter.”
“A letter?” Chris laughed, “And how do we know she got the letter?”
Déjà vu? I felt like I’d already had this conversation… with Howie.
“Nick said she got it.”
“I’m pretty sure Nick says a lot of things,” Chris mumbled.
Suddenly, outside, there was a crack and a terrible splintering noise, a groan and a moment later a loud crashing thump. Chris’ eyes widened and he turned to the window. “Pops!?” he shouted, bounding for the door. He disappeared down the rope ladder. I followed closely behind.
Mr. Johnson was laying under the broken branch, clutching his heart and his leg.
“Call 9-1-1,” Chris demanded, rushing to his father’s side.
My fingers couldn’t find the numbers quick enough.
