Catch Me (48 page)

“We need to pick a city and stay there,” Nick says, squeezing my hand. “No more of this not seeing each other for a week thing.”

“What? You can’t live without our bickering in your life?” I joke.

Nick’s eyebrows rise as a grin spreads over his face. “Your bickering is one of the things I love most about you.”

“Too bad that’s a one way street,” I say, laughing.

“Oh, really?” he counters, letting go of my hand and pinching my side, which makes me scoot toward the door with a yelp.

“Stop it!” I say, laughing. “At least we’ve been busy,” I say, going back to his previous statement when he holds my hand again.

He lets go of my hand and tips my chin to look at him when we stop at a red light. “I’m never too busy for you, babe. Never.”

The serious look on his face leaves no room for argument. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that he’s so available to me, so there. Anytime I need to talk to him about anything, he picks up my calls. If he’s busy in the studio, he sends me a text message asking me how I’m doing. Every morning, whoever wakes up first calls the other and every night we fall asleep with each other on the phone. It’s something that I cherish since I’ve never gotten all of this attention—ever. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with it. Not that I would ever complain.

“I know,” I respond, trying to sound sure of it.

“I’m serious, Brooklyn. I’ll never disappoint you.”

His words fill my heart up with joy, and despite the fact that I’m a pro at dealing with loved ones disappointing me, I really hope Nick is right and I never feel that from him. His thumb grazes my lips and the side of my face before he drops his hand and continues driving.

“This is different than the last time you were here,” he says after minutes of silence.

The last time I was here was when I left him for LA so I could deal with the lawsuit issue. I left with a broken heart; we both did, so I have to agree that it’s very different. This time I know neither one of us will leave this or any city heartbroken.

“Very,” I say with a relieved sigh.

This place will always hold dark memories for me, but Nick somehow manages to brighten them for me.

As soon as we pull up at his parents’ house and step out of the car, we’re greeted by an enthusiastic Mima. Her chubby arms wrap around Nick’s waist as he hugs and picks her up slightly, making her squeal in contentment. When they’re finished greeting each other, she moves over to me and hugs me tightly before kissing my cheek.

“I knew you’d be back,” she says in a thick Spanish accent.

I laugh. “It was the rice and beans,” I tell her jokingly, which makes her throw her head back in laughter.

“Wait until you try my Congrí,” she states proudly.

Nick makes a sound that can only be described as blissful when he hears that, and it makes me smile wide. I make a mental note to ask Mima how to make that so that one day I can surprise him with it.

When we walk into the formal living room, I spot Mirielle, Michael, and my parents all talking animatedly. It’s funny to see my mother beside Nick’s. They don’t really look that different in the way they’re dressed, wearing linen pants and nice shirts, but their facial expressions as they greet us are night and day. Mirielle’s smile is bright and contagious. She’s genuinely happy to see me here with her son. My mother’s, on the other hand, is fake. I wish I had the guts to point that out in front of people, but she’s my mother and I would never do that. We say hello to them and my father stays hugging me to his side as we walk over to the dining room.

“I think you did the right thing with Allie,” my father comments quietly as we reach the table.

I smile my appreciation and he nods back, giving me a kiss on the forehead as he takes his place next to the Ice Queen.

Throughout the meal, we all speak about different things, my dad questions Nick about producing and how he feels about the turnout of Shea’s album, which Nick insists is a Grammy winner.

Michael visibly rolls his eyes at the statement and says, “We’ll see. Nicky may never catch up to me.”

“Or he’ll surpass you,” I say with a shrug as I take a sip of my wine.

I can handle being bashed because that’s all I know from my parents, but Nick doesn’t deserve it. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I don’t either. Nick is really helping me see that I am a great person and deserve as much as everybody else that works their butt off.

I can see the smile on Nick’s face from the corner of my eye, but my eyes are on his father’s shocked face. Michael raises an eyebrow at my retort.

“Maybe he will.” His eyes stay on me as he speaks. “So, Chris, what are you going to do if Brooklyn leaves Harmon to go help Nicky with his label?”

Nick’s hands grip his utensils tightly and his chewing slows down. I can tell he’s uncomfortable with the question, and I’m not sure why, but I’m not. Nick and I have spoken about it but not in any serious way. He asks me all the time to quit my job and go work for him so that we can be together all the time, but I laugh it off. I don’t doubt that he would want me to work with him, but he’s cautious in the way he says it, probably because of what just happened to me with Allie. Or maybe because he’s scared that if he pushes me too quickly, I would bolt.

My dad lifts an eyebrow, but smiles as he looks at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but my mother cuts him off.

“Why would she do that? She’s successful at Harmon, it has her last name and she has her own company. If she wanted she could start her own label—she wouldn’t have to partner with Nick or anybody else,” she says, her voice determined.

She’s looking directly into her wine glass as she speaks and takes a gulp of it when she’s finished. I’m stunned that she stood up for me and complimented me all in one sentence. A part of me wonders how painful it must have been for her to throw me a bone, but mostly I’m just shocked that she said anything positive about me at all, even if it was to one-up our hosts.

“You’re completely right,” Mirielle chimes in. “Brooklyn is a very talented woman in her own right.”

“I never said she wasn’t,” Michael argues. “It was just a question.”

My dad puts his hand over my mother’s on the table and smiles at me. “I agree with Roxy. Brooklyn doesn’t have to do that, but if she decided she wanted to, I would wish her nothing but the best. Nick’s a smart kid and he has that drive … reminds me of myself at his age.”

The compliment doesn’t sit well in my stomach. I love my father, but I don’t want to marry my father. Not that I’m going to marry Nick, but I know I want him in my life for the long run, that’s not a question. So I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a workaholic that ignores his children and just throws money their way, thinking it’ll make all their problems disappear.

“Nonsense, Chris, you were much cockier than Nick,” my mother adds, winking at me.

Winking
at me. And then she smiles, a genuine smile, the one she uses on my father and brother at times. For a moment I swear I’m seeing things, but when I blink, it’s still on her face and I see a glint of pride in her eyes. The sixteen-year-old me wants to shed tears of happiness at the moment. My twenty-five-year-old self takes it for what it is and is glad she’s somewhat proud of me today. I’m sure tomorrow she’ll find something new to bitch about. But for today, I’ll take the pride and the smile. I smile back, just as genuinely.

The rest of the visit goes as well as it can. Michael tones down his condescending-ness a notch and talks about how proud he is of Nick, despite “being a hard ass to him.” Nick and I step outside and share a swinging wooden bench that lets us enjoy the cool breeze as we look at the foggy bay. Placing my head on Nick’s chest, I take a thankful, cleansing breath, closing my eyes and letting myself enjoy the moment.

“What’s up, guys?” Isaac’s voice booms.

I open my eyes and smile at him. “Hey, Isaac.”

“Hey. I didn’t know you were coming,” Nick says. “Good thing we didn’t leave right after dinner.”

“Well, if you would check your phone you would see I texted you back,” Isaac counters.

“Well, as you can see, I’m kind of enjoying my life right now. I don’t have time for cellphones,” Nick responds back, making me shake my head with a smile. “Is Damien in town?” he asks. Damien hasn’t been around today, but I know he lives in LA. Nick’s question makes me wonder how often they come visit their parents.

Isaac shrugs. “Doubt it. He’s working on a movie. You know how he gets when he works.”

Nick nods. “Yeah, he doesn’t know how to take a break.”

Isaac scoffs. “Unless it’s for a woman.”

Nick laughs in agreement.

“You guys gonna be in town for a while?” Isaac asks as he takes a seat on one of the big rocks in front of us.

“Nah, Brooklyn has to leave soon, so I’m going with her,” Nick says.

“You doing good?” Isaac asks, his blue eyes looking directly into mine, searching.

“Better than good,” I respond with a smile.

Isaac smiles and runs his fingers through his long black hair, throwing it back out of his eyes. “Good,” he says, nodding slowly and looking around before bringing his attention back to us. “So … you guys wanna go to a comic book convention while you’re here? I have tickets …”

Nick and I both laugh at Isaac’s awkwardness and turn down his offer, though we do humor him in discussing some super heroes, or rather letting him discuss the super heroes.

By the time Nick and I leave, we’re ready for a nap, so we head back to his place and take one: Nick, Scooby, and me.

“What will you do with Scoobs if you move to New York?” I ask, testing the waters on that subject.

Nick smiles, leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. “When I move to New York,” he corrects. “I guess I’ll take him. Unless Isaac wants to keep him for a while; Damien is way too busy for a dog.”

I nod against him, adjusting myself closer into the side of his body, letting out a sigh of content at the feel of his warmth against me.

“Mmm … I never want to let you out of my arms,” he murmurs against me, breathing me in.

“Then don’t,” I reply, and I mean it.

I’m rushing, bouncing down the hall on one foot, trying to walk and put my other heel on at the same time as I try to hurry in Nick’s Manhattan apartment, which I’m now sharing with him.

“Babe, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Nick says, tearing off his headphones and looking at me over his cup of coffee.

“Jay’s manager is calling me in twenty minutes and I want to be sitting at my desk when he does,” I say, leaning on the kitchen counter and finally putting the shoe on correctly.

Nick puts his cup down and cocks his head to one side as he watches me, his eyes scanning my body slowly. “Is that a new dress?” he asks.

I frown, looking down at my fitted plum dress. “No.”

“Why haven’t you worn it before?” he asks, rounding the counter to stand in front of me.

I make to move past him so that I can pour my coffee, but he blocks me and runs the tips of his fingers along my cleavage, causing me to shiver.

“Nick,” I protest, but there’s a moan in my voice as I speak his name.

“Brooklyn,” he mimics in a breath, his voice caressing my name as he whispers soft kisses from my neck to my collarbone.

I throw my head back, my breathing coming in ragged. “I have to go.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs against me as he continues to place openmouthed kisses over my chest and the small hills of my cleavage.

My phone rings suddenly, making us both groan in protest, but Nick straightens and walks over to the living room, his bare feet padding on the hardwood. He plops down on the couch as I answer the phone, thankful that it’s only Hendrix.

“Hey, I’m going over there now,” I say, before he can bitch me out and walk to the living room, picking up my cup of coffee on the way over.

“Brooklyn,” Hendrix says, his voice eerily quiet, the sound of it making an uneasy rattle shake over me.

“Wha-” I start, but the gossip channel on the television stops me short.

Breaking News: Shea Roberts’ body found unresponsive due to apparent overdose.

I stare at the television in disbelief. My brother’s frantic voice is in my ear, but I can’t understand him. I register Nick’s body moving from the couch. I hear him scream in horror, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the TV. The words are screaming at me, bleeding through the screen for me. Flashbacks of Ryan sitting up on the bed with the needle sticking out of his arm circulate my memory. The grayness of his lifeless body, the distant look in his eyes, his cold, cold skin. Empty sobs threaten as I open my mouth, gasping as my hands begin to shake uncontrollably before they go numb and I drop the phone and coffee mug. I watch it fall, shattering and splotching coffee everywhere. It all happens in slow motion. I see it but I’m not there to take it all in.