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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Two days had passed and Lauren still wasn't talking to Nick - but he wasn't talking to her, either. Honestly, he couldn't really remember why, only that they weren't speaking to eachother, and being a stubborn ass kept him from ending the argument. He might not remember what he was right about, but he knew for damn sure that he was right.

Conseqently, when Nick walked downstairs the morning they were expecting Brian and Emma back from Nashville and Lauren was making toast in the kitchen, he was surprised when she turned around and greeted him with a sing-songy, "Goooood morning!"

Nick leaned against the doorjamb and ran a hand through his hair, eyeing her suspiciously as she opened the fridge and pulled out butter, jam, and the orange juice that she'd bought to replace the bottle he'd finished off. She put the stuff on the counter and asked, "Toast?"

He raised an eyebrow. Clearly, the woman was up to something, and he wanted to know what.

Lauren turned around and looked at him. "Nick? Are you deaf? Toast?"

He nodded. He refused to break the code of silence. What if it was a ploy? What if it was part of her evil plot to win the argument? Seduce him with her magical delicious toast, fuck him silly, then steal the title of argument winner. He was onto her. Nick lowered himself into the nearest chair at the kitchen table, not taking his eyes off her.

The toaster popped and Lauren replaced the toast with bread and restarted it, smearing butter and blackberry jam onto the popped toast, putting it on a napkin and placing it in front of Nick. She pulled out a glass, filled it with juice, and put that by him, too. Nick stared at the food. Maybe, he thought, it was poisoned. He looked around the kitchen for the arsnic can.

"What's the matter with you?" Lauren asked over her shoulder, as she pulled another napkin from the rooster shaped holder on top of the microwave. She retrieved a second glass and filled it with orange juice, placing it on the table opposite Nick, at her place. Nick eyeballed her glass, then looked at his. He switched the glasses while her back was turned. "You aren't still angry about that stupid fight we had like three days ago, right?" she asked.

Nick hesitated. "Nawh, I ain't mad," he drawled. He sniffed the orange juice he'd taken from her place. He thought about that scene in the Princess Bride where the one guy pours poison into the cups and the other guy has to wiggle them around and figure out what one has the poison in it. That guy ended up keeling over, he remembered. Nick glanced at the juice she'd originally given him, and switched the glasses back, just as Lauren turned around with her toast.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

Nick hesitated. He looked at the glasses. "The one you gave me had a lot of pulp," he lied. "I don't like pulp."

"You love pulp, what the hell are you talking about?" Lauren sat down.

Nick decided aversion was the key out of an awkward explanation that he didn't want to go the way of Cedric the Giant or whatever that guy had been named. Inconceivable! "I thought you were mad at me," he said by way of changing the subject.

Lauren was still eyeing the juice glasses suspiciously. He felt like telling her that he hadn't poisoned it, either, but he figured that would jump right back to the Cedric the Giant topic that he'd just managed to cleverly change away from. Lauren shook her head, "I'm not mad."

"Good," Nick said. He picked up his toast and took a bite, feeling more confident that she wasn't trying to slay him. "I don't like it when you're mad."

"I'm going home tonight."

Nick choked. Toast and jam remnants fell out of his mouth and onto the chest of his Journey shirt. He swiped them away with his fingers, smearing the blackberry jam into a dark purple stain on Steve Perry's forehead. He swallowed, took a mouthful of juice to wash down what hadn't fallen out, and choked the word, "What?"

"I said I'm going home tonight," Lauren repeated, "After Brian gets back from Tennessee with Emma. I booked a flight this morning to go home to Los Angeles." She nibbled on her toast like she was a squirrel. Nick blinked in disbelief for a long moment. Finally, Lauren said, "No amount of time staring at me like that is going to make the words change, you know..."

Nick blinked and looked away, shoving more toast into his mouth. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He looked at Lauren. "Why come you're leavin' for?"

"What?"

Nick realized that the sentence had come out all wonky and said, "I mean, why're you leavin', exactly?"

Lauren shrugged, "I need to get back to work, Nick, you knew I wasn't going to stay here the entire time you were out here. I already stayed longer than I originally planned to stay."

Nick squinted at her. "Is this because we had that fight?"

"No," Lauren answered, "It's because you've been moping around like a sloppy monkey and I'm bored out of my mind. Plus I'm running low on money and all that and I really need to get back to work."

"I have money..."

"You don't have to brag."

"Well I mean, you can use my money, I don't care."

"It's your money, Nick," Lauren answered, "I don't want to use your money."

"It's our money," he answered.

Lauren shook her head, "No it isn't."

"Sure it is," Nick replied. He reached for his wallet in his sweatpants pocket and pulled out a couple credit cards. "Here." He slid them across the table.

Lauren laughed, "Nick, keep your damn credit cards. I'm just going home, okay? Relax." She stood up, her toast gone, and put the orange juice and butter back into the cupboard.

"But I'll miss you," Nick whined, "I don't want you to go away. I'm willing to like pay you to stay here, basically."

"Great, so I'm a hooker?" Lauren grabbed the sponge out of the sink.

"Noooo," Nick wailed quickly. He hadn't meant it like that. "Laurennnn," he whined, "Don't go awayyyyy."

Lauren sponged the toast crumbs up off the counter and into her hand. She threw them into the trash and tossed the sponge into the sink. She leaned over and kissed Nick's forehead, then headed for the door. As she left, though, she called over her shoulders, "You'll be fine, Nick, it's not like we're married or anything..."

Nick raised an eyebrow at the table. He heard Lauren's footsteps fading away up the stairs and he sighed. "God damn you, Brian," he muttered under his breath, "You made all the women bride-zillas."