We’re getting a weekend off. Can I come to Chicago?
Nick
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dear Nick,
Now, when you say ‘come to Chicago’, do you mean really come to Chicago or do you want another virtual weekend?
Your Nintendo stuff arrived. I’ve been practicing.
Take care,
Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~It was the end of February. They were nearly done with rehearsals. They were taking a long weekend and then they were going to do a week of run-throughs, start to finish, the whole show. Then they were putting it out there, starting in Orlando and working their way around the country. There were no plans to go outside of North America just yet, but they were keeping their options open.
Nick and Abby had emailed each other every day, sometimes short notes, sometimes long, detailed messages describing their day. Abby was going to kill her mother, Nick was pretty sure. Sharon had Mother-of-the-Bride fever and was driving Abby nuts. Nick was glad that she had him to vent to and he encouraged her to do it. Abby tried to restrain herself. She didn’t want to sound like a whiner. The reality was ten times worse than what Nick knew. Abby tried to make a joke of it and told him that she was writing a story called Princess Penelope Puts An Axe Through Her Mother’s Forehead.
Nick wondered if he should ask Abby to let him come to Chicago or if he should invite her to Florida instead. He still wasn’t sure she wanted him in Chicago. He remembered that she hadn’t seemed all that enthusiastic about it in California. But she had talked about the apartment like it was for both of them. This whole platonic marriage thing was confusing the hell out of him.
Nick had come to Florida from California, sure that he was falling in love with Abby. But after a couple of days, he went back to thinking that he just liked her a lot…and really enjoyed having sex with her. That wasn’t the same thing as love, he thought. It was good. It was great, but it wasn’t the same thing as love.
After all, here he was in Florida and he didn’t even miss her all that much. He knew he got to ‘talk’ to her every day, so there wasn’t that much to miss, he guessed, but he didn’t feel that pain, that dull ache that told him she wasn’t there. Because she is there, he argued with himself and he confused himself further. Eventually, he decided that he had been right originally to give up on the whole love thing. It just messed up his head and his life. ‘Friends’ was way better, way saner. And what good would it do him anyway to decide that he was in love with her? She wasn’t in love with him. He wasn’t sure she even wanted him around that much. Nope, not going to start tuning up for a verse of the Pain Song, no way! ‘Friends’ was way better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Hey, Abby!
I mean the real thing…I want to see the apartment.
Do you think your parents would mind if I stayed at a hotel? I don’t want to inconvenience them, and I thought maybe you and I could have a little more time together. Not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with them, but…it’s really hard to hold your breath for that long. LOL!!
By the way, me and the fellas loved Princess Penelope Works Out. We laughed until we cried. I hope you like the attachment.
Nick
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dear Nick,
Thanks for the sketch. That wouldn’t be a likeness of Luke by any chance, would it? LOL!! Bring me the original, please.
I’ve booked you in at the Hyatt. That’s where you usually stay, isn’t it? LOL!!
Send me the flight info. I’ll pick you up. (No red carpet, though. It’s too slushy.)
Take care,
Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Abby looked over to where the sketch was chugging out of the printer. It was perfect. Princess Penelope doing a sit-up, her bony knees peeking out of baggy shorts. She was wearing a t-shirt that said Just Do It. On her head was her crown, slightly tilted and under it a sweatband around her forehead. Standing over her was a huge, muscle-bound man with wide shoulders and narrow hips barking, “Three more, two more…”
Nick was coming to Chicago. For three days. Abby wondered if she could hide him for three whole days. Now that Ronni was stalking her…Abby laughed to herself. Maybe stalking was too strong a word. But Ronni sure did seem to run across her a lot. She and James had bought a house finally, and Ronni wanted Abby’s input on decorating. Ronni had way more flair for that kind of thing than Abby and they both knew it. So there had to be an ulterior motive. Abby figured he was tall and blond.
Ronni called her every couple of days with some flimsy excuse. Ronni never mentioned Nick. That suited Abby just fine. She never brought his name up either, but somehow Ronni always managed to ask a question that made Abby include Nick in the answer, usually something about the apartment or the wedding. It was kind of a game with Abby, to see if she could spot the question and answer it without mentioning her betrothed. She hadn’t been successful once.
Ronni was also getting into the Symphony fundraising thing. She came to the first meeting and managed to get herself on the same committee as Abby. She had lots of enthusiasm and good ideas, which just pissed Abby off even more. She knew that Ronni was up to no good, but she couldn’t share that with anyone. No one would believe her and they would wonder why she felt that way.
Abby thought about telling Ronni she’d be out of town for three days, but she knew that would never work. Sharon would be bound to say something to Jeannette about Nick coming to town. Abby wondered if she could hide Nick from her mother as well. She was glad Nick had suggested the hotel. If he hadn’t, she was going to. She didn’t want him bombarded with questions about guest lists and formal attire and menu choices.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Hey, where are we going? Isn’t that the hotel?” Nick pointed out the window.
“I thought I’d show you the apartment first and then we’d check you in,” said Abby.
“Okay, cool.”
I’ve got some pictures and samples there and you are going to help me make some decisions. Yes, you are!” She overrode his objection before he could voice it.
Nick laughed. “You’re the boss. See, I remember rule number one.”
It was rule number two, thought Abby, but she didn’t want to think about rule number one, so she ignored him and pulled into the parking garage.
“Wait until you see the view,” she said. “All water as far as the eye can see. Unless, of course, the eye steps out on the balcony and looks down or around.” Abby realized that she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She was suddenly very nervous. This was going to be their home together, maybe not together very often, but their home. And she had picked it out all by herself. What if he hated it?
She slipped the key in the lock and turned it. “Okay, here it is. Try and imagine it with color on the walls and furniture in it. And try and imagine what the furniture will look like while you’re at it.”
Nick stepped into the foyer and looked around. He had an overall impression of white. All of the walls were white…he knew that Abby was intending to have them painted when she…when they decided on the colors.
“Down here is the kitchen,” said Abby, leading the way. Nick was impressed. It was large and bright, with track lighting and a grey marble countertop. “The table and chairs go here,” explained Abby, motioning to the large empty space on one side of the kitchen. “Once we pick them. I have pictures. The living room is through here.”
Nick followed Abby into a large empty room. They’d be able to fit a lot of furniture in here. He wandered over to the window and looked out at Lake Michigan. The view in February was not all that inviting. The water was grey and looked oh, so cold. “Abby, this place is pretty…big. Are you sure you can afford it on your own? Or did your Dad…?”
“No, I bought it,” she said. “I have a trust fund and I get the use of the interest. When I get married, I get the rest of the fund. Speaking of which, my dad wants your lawyer to get in touch with his about a pre-nuptial agreement.”
“A pre-nup…” Nick hadn’t even thought of that. He guessed he should have. “What do you…?”
Abby held up a hand. “I don’t even want to talk about it. It’s between the lawyers. I don’t even want to know. Get it the way you want it and I’ll sign it.”
Obviously, there had been some discussion of this in the Fremont household and it had upset Abby. She got a tight set to her jaw and turned away from him. He decided to change the subject.
“Maybe we could hold off on the furniture until after the wedding. This place is big enough for a reception.” He swept his hand around the room.
“You obviously haven’t been following the plans,” said Abby. “It gets bigger by the day.”
Nick looked back at her. There was something in her voice. Panic, maybe?
Abby paced back and forth in front of a doorway which seemed to lead to a hall. She rubbed her hands together nervously and stared at the floor. Nick had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Nick,” she said, “I’m not sure I can do this wedding. I mean, every day it’s something else; the cake gets a little higher and the veil gets a little longer. I don’t really care about Alencon lace and I don’t want to go near the discussion of ‘chicken or veal’.”
Nick now knew what the saying meant, to have your blood run cold.
“There’s all this stuff that’s weighing me down – flowers and boutonnieres and who’s sitting where? I’m getting cold feet.”
Breathe, Nick, breathe, he told himself.
“I know we said we’d do this, but…”
And finally, she looked at him. “…couldn’t we just elope instead?”
Nick didn’t make a sound, but his body twitched at her words. He looked very pale, she thought.
“Elope?” he said.
Abby nodded.
“I thought…” He paused to take a breath. “I thought…when you said you couldn’t…”
“Oh, Nick, no,” said Abby, realization dawning. “No, no, no. I didn’t mean that.” She walked toward him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I couldn’t do the marriage thing…just the wedding thing…the big…” She circled her hands in the air. “…the whole circus thing.”
Nick pulled her into his arms. He held her head against his chest, trying to re-establish normal sinus rhythm in his heart. Abby whispered, 'I’m sorry, I’m sorry' until she felt him kiss the top of her head and relax.
“I should have known better,” he said. “I should have known that you wouldn’t go back on our deal.”
Deal. The word cut through Abby like a knife. “Yeah,” she whispered, “a deal is a deal.” And she wondered if selling herself into a loveless marriage was any more noble than having her father do it for her. And she had hated him for that.
“You scared me,” he said, and he tipped her head back and kissed her. Thoroughly. Wondrously. And she reciprocated enthusiastically, trying to make up for her poorly chosen words. After a long minute, he moved his mouth away from hers. “Isn’t that just the way?” he said, laughing. “There’s never a big, brass bed around when you need one.”
“Follow me, Captain Carter,” said Abby in a low, sexy voice and she led him by the hand down the hall and into the bedroom.
“I sort of started here,” she said. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and he knew she was nervous. He looked around the room. The walls were white and the bed linens were white. But the armchair in the corner and the lampshades and the curtains and the tiny accessory pillows on the bed were all in shades of blue and green. Colors of the sea, he thought. All different ones, but they blended together perfectly. And on the walls were prints, unusual, maritime themes but with a sort of Oriental flavor. Beautiful. And the bed…it was big and it was brass.
“I love this,” he said enthusiastically. “Wow!” He pulled her into a hug, letting his approval radiate through to warm her.
Abby relaxed visibly.
“And now, Miss Fremont,” he said, setting her away from him. “I think it is time that you took off your clothes.”
“It will be my pleasure, Sir,” she said, reaching for the buttons on her blouse.
“Oh, I hope so,” said Nick, licking his lips. “I really hope so.”
