Impossibly Tongue-Tied (27 page)

He laughed out loud at the thought of how Kat would react if she knew that, the last few times they'd made love, the only way he could even get it up was to imagine he was with Nina instead.

“What's so funny?” Kat looked up suspiciously. Had he noticed the wrinkle, too?

 

Sam had figured Howard Cross for a tiny bladder, and he was right. Within sixty seconds of dismissing his client, the rotund attorney headed for one of the men's room stalls.

Noting this, Sam casually followed his prey into the men's room, but not before hanging the “Out of Order” sign he'd found in the janitor's closet on the outside knob of the door. Once inside, he locked the door to ensure that the two of them would not be interrupted, biding his time at one of the two sinks in the restroom.

It took only a minute before Potty Mouth's stream gave out. He grunted, zipped up, and started toward the door. Realizing that someone else was in the restroom, he paused, ran some cold water over his hands, then ransacked the paper towel rack with a vengeance, just for show.

Sam was disgusted. Instead of shuddering, though, he murmured, “Germs. Disgusting, aren't they? Particularly the ones on the old pork sword, huh?”

That stopped Potty Mouth cold. Warily, he turned to Sam. “I—I beg your pardon?”

“You know: the dipstick. Schlong. Skin flute. What, do I have to paint a picture for you?”

Howard's eyes got small. “No, I get you.” He shrugged. Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, he headed for the door.

“Oops. Sorry! Didn't mean to be such a, you know,
Potty Mouth
.”

Yep, that got Howard's attention. He whipped back around. “Who the hell are you?”

Sam leaned against the wall. “A friend. Whose, I can't say yet. I might be your friend, Howard…I can call you Howard, right? Or do you prefer Potty Mouth—when you're not on the phone, I mean?”

Howard went for the door, only to find it locked. Panicking, he kicked it a couple of times and rattled the handle.

“Then again, maybe I'm Mrs. Cross's friend. Does she know about Potty Mouth? If not, maybe she'll want to find out before your divorce goes to settlement discussions.”

Sam walked over to the door and unlocked it. He was just about to walk out when he heard Howard's strangled gasp, “Wait! Wait—
no!
That bitch—that bitch hasn't been able to find anything—before now…
What the hell do you want, anyway?
”

Slowly Sam turned around. He smiled at Howard. “You strike me as a very fair-minded and moral man, Howard. In fact, I'm sure you're fair enough to see that this custody battle between the Hartes is nothing more than some little misunderstanding. That's why I'm counting on you to get your client
to agree that joint legal custody would be the best thing for little Jake, with primary physical custody going to Mrs. Harte. After all, Nathan keeps a
very
busy schedule and all…What do you think? Does that sound fair to you?”

“I'll have to think about it,” the attorney said stiffly. “I'll get back—”

“Aw, now, Potty, that's just your meat whistle talking again. I think you can work
something
out. And the sooner the better. Because if you don't, then I'm sure that the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Potty Mouth might have a better idea of what's fair and equitable—particularly when she gets an earful of some of those
imaginative
phrases you love so much.”

From the anatomically specific expletives that followed him halfway down the hall from the men's room door, Sam figured that Potty Mouth had come to see things his way.

 

When the hearing was called back into session, the first thing Howard Cross did was inform Judge Jessup that his client had reconsidered his stance on sole legal and physical custody, and was willing to cede legal custody to Mrs. Harte if an arrangement for partial physical custody could be worked out as well, say, for every other weekend, alternate major holidays, and perhaps a month each summer.

Because Lavinia Hannigan murmured her client's assent to that proposal, Judge Jessup was content to do nothing more than shrug and put his blessing on the deal. Besides, in his mind he'd done enough courtroom harrumphing on the topic of phone sex operators. Time to go back to what he did best: campaigning.

He wondered how many votes from L.A.'s phone sex oper
ators Howard's antics had cost him. He hoped it didn't include that of his own favorite PSO.

 

Joy. Sheer joy.

Sam could see it in Nina's face, but just for the few seconds he could see her at all, before she was swallowed up by the sea of humanity that flowed around her, dogging her every footstep, shouting questions at her about how she felt now, and why she thought Nathan had changed his mind about sole custody for Jake.

Hearing her son's name, Sam saw her turn around expectantly, in search of the one person whom she knew she loved with all her heart.

Her son.

Someday, she will love me that way, too
, Sam thought.

In a blink of an eye, she was gone. Sam assumed she'd somehow made her way into the hall in search of the little boy, who was now cradled in the arms of his father.

They looked picture perfect, both with golden hair, big dimpled smiles, and shining blue eyes…

Nina's boys
.

Did she see them? Yes, of course. How could she miss them? Like Nina, they, too, were the center of attention, even as they waited, in happy anticipation, for her arrival at their sides. And when she reached them, she would hug them both, this Sam realized because he knew her so well.

She had sincerely appreciated Nathan coming to her rescue, proving to be her knight in shining armor.

Once again.

But that shouldn't change anything between us,
thought Sam.

Could it?

As Nina pushed her way through the crowd, Katerina reached them first, shoving Nathan so hard that he almost dropped Jake.

“Hey, what—”

He didn't even finish the sentence before Kat pushed him again. “You are
such
an ass! How could you just—just cave in like that? Why, even I've got bigger balls than you do!” She glared down at Jake, who cowered and ducked his head in his father's shoulder.

Nathan set his son down on the floor, then turned back around to confront Kat. “That's what I've always suspected,” he retorted. “And let me tell you, sweetheart, it ain't a pretty trait in a girl.”

Angrily, she slapped him hard, in full view of the ever-hungry paparazzi.

Nathan was too much of a gentleman to hit back, but not Jake. He'd had it with Balloon Lips. If he could pop her somehow, would she shrivel up and go away? He was certainly willing to try.

He took a bite of her thigh, and didn't let go.

Later, her yelp would be described by
Us Weekly
as “more piercing than that of the wounded animals she so fiercely protects…” The footage caught by Court TV would bear this out.

And just like a wounded animal, she lashed out at her attacker. Grabbing Jake by the collar, she was just about to slap him when Nina cold-cocked her, right on those renowned lips.

Was “Meow! Kat Fight” too obvious a headline to use, Baxter wondered, as he blogged furiously, hoping to get a jump on the competing columnists who were gawking, shocked, at the comatose Katerina. Nah, I'll go with it, he reasoned, because if I don't, someone else will.

He was right. Later, six other columns sported the same phrase. Still, he was the first.

To sidestep the pandemonium, Nathan grabbed both Nina and Jake and pulled them away from the teeming, screaming throng. Sam couldn't make out what Jake was trying to say to Nina, but whatever it was, it took her completely by surprise. She smiled and blushed deeply. Nathan, seeing their grins, wrapped his arms around both of them, enveloping them with his love before nodding in agreement, and leaning in to ask Nina something himself.

What had Jake said to make her so happy? Sam needed to know. He shoved to get closer, but he never got near enough to hear what Jake said next. Not that it mattered because he could easily make out the words Nathan was mouthing to Nina as he looked down to her lovingly, soulfully:

Nina, please, will you marry me again?

What?
her shocked look seemed to say.
You—you love me?

Of course he does, thought Sam. Who wouldn't love you?

He could tell that she was about to reply, but then Jake began jumping up and down, vying for her attention. His shrill cries could be heard above the din. “Say yes! Say yes! Please, Mommy! Say yes!”

Soon the whole crowd was shouting: “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” But Nina just stood there: shocked, confused, laughing, crying—

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He turned and made his way down the opposite end of the hall.

A naughty-but-nice girl next door. A repentant husband. An adorable kid.

He knew a Hollywood ending when he saw one.

Nina knew she should have been ecstatically happy that Nathan so desperately wanted her back, but she wasn't.

She knew, too, that she'd have to make it clear to him, up front, that there was so much still standing between them. Yep, a
hell of a lot.

And yet there was no way she could say any of that in front of Jake. It would break his heart.

He hadn't liked it when Daddy “moved away.” And when Daddy saved him from Balloon Lips and Mommy smacked that mean old witch—well, he just knew that Daddy would come home again with them…

Right?

Her little boy put it to Nina just like that, while Nathan and the whole world looked on. So, what could she do? She smiled and started on some patented noncommittal mommyspeak, something to the effect of “Well, we'll just have to see…” or
“Let's talk about that when we get home…” when Nathan pulled her close to his side, looked her in the eye, and asked flat-out:

“Nina, please, will you marry me again?”

She could have killed him for that.

How dare Nathan do such a thing? And right there in front of Jake, in front of everyone!

Oh no. Had Sam seen it, too?

She looked around, but she didn't see him anywhere. Not only that, but she could barely hear herself think, what with Jake yelling, “Say yes! Say yes!” In no time at all, the crowd around them had picked up the maddening chant. It was like some sort of crazy dream! She couldn't help but smile at the audacity of the whole event…

Then she saw Sam. And yes, from the look on his face, he had seen the whole thing.

She knew that was why he turned and walked away.

Where was he going? And why doesn't he want to take me with him?

She tried to call out his name, but he certainly couldn't hear her over the mob's chatter, and she was helpless to follow, what with it blocking her way. She closed her eyes in anger.

Nathan, on the other hand, just smiled. So that jerk, Sam, is pissed. What of it? As far as Nathan was concerned, good riddance. He wanted his family back. He wanted his life back! And he'd do anything to get it.

Even if it meant putting Nina on the spot.

 

Life & Style
predicted an elopement.

Us Weekly
claimed that Nina had cried when Nathan had gotten down on his knees to propose.

By Jove!
, a British magazine, offered the biggest fee for an exclusive on the wedding.

That was the first thing the Realtor mentioned as she showed them the cute little Outpost Estates bungalow, toward the top of Mulholland, which afforded it to-die-for views of downtown Los Angeles.

“This large, flat lawn really sells this place, doesn't it? And it's just perfect for a garden wedding! You could have it, right there out by the pool!” Having given her pitch, the Realtor walked into the kitchen to give them a few moments alone together while she checked her voice mail.

“What wedding?” Nina hissed at Nathan. “There isn't going to be a wedding! We're getting divorced, not married! Remember? You need to tell that to your publicist and your new agent, so that they quit spreading these lies.”

These awful lies that have Sam so pissed off at me that he refuses to take my call
, she wanted to add, but she didn't. Bringing up Sam would only make Nathan more stubborn about this nutty marriage idea of his.

Not that he was going to change his mind anytime soon, in any regard.

“Listen, Nina, can't you just forgive me? I admit I've been a total ass these past few months. But now I want to make it up to you. Please, honey, I'll do anything to get you back! And this is just the start, believe me!”

He opened his arms toward the house. “Nina, just look
around. Isn't this what we'd always dreamed of? A house like this, for the three of us? Just look at that backyard! Wouldn't Jake have a blast back there?”

“When? Before or after the so-called wedding ceremony?” she said sarcastically. She glanced out into the yard and sighed. Just put a climbing gym and a swing set out there, and it would be pure heaven for a little boy, no doubt about that.

No, any doubts she had were about Nathan.

“Tell me the truth, Nathan: Why, all of a sudden, do you want me back?”

“Because I still love you, dammit!” He walked over to her and took her hand. She tried to pull it away, but he wouldn't let go. “And you love me, too! Go ahead, tell me you don't and—and I'll leave you alone.”

Did she love him?

She hesitated to answer because, in truth, she didn't know what to say. Yes, of course she still had feelings for him. Feelings that were deep but also bittersweet for what once was…

Not for what might still be.

But she could honestly say, once and for all, that she was no longer
in love
with him.

He'd lost her
.

His eyes teared up at the realization. “It's Sam, isn't it?” He waited for her to answer.

Yes, she loved Sam instead. That she now knew with all her heart. But if Sam's silence over the past week was any indication, then he obviously didn't feel the same way about her.

But Nathan did.

Nathan, whom she had loved for the past six years of her life, as the two of them had struggled to survive while they followed the dream they shared.

Nathan, whose wit and charm and boyish good looks had set her heart on fire from the very first moment she'd seen him onstage.

Nathan, the father of her child, who would do anything he could for them.

Nathan, who'd had a fall from grace, but was now asking her forgiveness.

Now it was up to her: Could she forgive him for having broken her heart, so that the three of them could live happily together again?

What other choice did she have?

She turned back to look at the garden, a riot of English lavender, Mexican peonies, and bougainvillea.

“Okay, Nathan, we'll try again.”

He smothered her in a kiss. “Yes! Awesome! Gee, wait until I get Riley on the phone and tell him that the wedding's a go!”

 

Albertha Hubert, the wedding planner Fiona found for them, had the kind of people skills Nina assumed would have made her a rising star in the Gestapo.

In Nina's opinion, the woman thrived on telling her how off base she was on her notions of what the recommitment ceremony (Nina hated calling it a marriage since, technically, their marriage had not been legally ended) should take place; that is, if they were to (as Albertha put it) “capitalize on this very unique public opportunity.”

“That's just the problem,” Nina groused. “This ceremony should be simple and totally private.”

Albertha laughed in her face, then ran down “the criteria in which the wedding will achieve ultimate media impact.” These included:

 

—Minimally, a six-carat (preferably more like a ten-carat) engagement ring.

—Wedding bands in white gold, created by Neil Lane, from Nathan's “original design.”

—
A champagne-hued Vera Wang couture gown, adorned with borrowed jewelry from either Harry Winston, Neil Lane, Tiffany, or Fred Leighton.

—
At least 250 guests, all of whom should be chosen from the A-list. (“Drop family if you need more space,” sniffed Albertha.)

—
A-list
Billboard-
worthy entertainment. (“Preferably performers who know you personally. What, you don't know any? Humph! Well, let me snoop around to see who's out of rehab and would love the publicity…”)

—
A dress theme for the guests, floating candles in the pool, live parrots in cages, doves released after the “I do's,” and fireworks during the evening reception.

—
A sit-down banquet requiring over two hundred attendants serving a meal made up of the bride and groom's favorite foods—as well as some exotic curry dish, and the requisite caviar and lobster.

—
Rose champagne by Laurent Perrier
.

—
And an exotic honeymoon getaway, perhaps the Seychelles Islands, or maybe Jaipur, India. (“I'll get back with you on your honeymoon schedule,” Albertha promised.)

 

Nina told her not to bother because from all she'd heard so far, the only way this reunion was going to happen was if they eloped to Vegas again.
So there
.

Albertha literally threw a hissy fit. “
Excuse me?
Get real! You're marrying a star! Or have you forgotten that?” She sniffed. “Look, if you're worried about the cost, don't sweat it. Fiona's already negotiating with the tabloids, so it's a free ride. And she told me just this morning that Riley got a nibble from the E! Network to televise it live, perhaps even use it as a pilot for a reality series.” She smiled cruelly. “Don't blow it, sweetheart, like you did the first time he asked you. Let's learn from our mistakes, shall we?”

As a consolation, Albertha told Nina that she might allow her to choose the flowers for her own bouquet.

Nina told her to go to hell.

That was when Nathan suggested that they get the input of some cooler heads. He immediately put in a call to Fiona, and Riley, too.

“Why Riley?” Nina asked. Knowing what he'd done to Sam, she could barely stomach being in the same room with the man.

“He's got a knack for this kind of froufrou stuff,” Nathan replied. “If I didn't know better, I'd think he was, you know…”

“No, I don't. What are you trying to say?” Of course, Nina knew that Nathan was fretting over the notion that Riley was gay. Still, egging him on to confront his own prejudice gave her some degree of payback pleasure.

And lately she certainly hadn't had enough of that.

“Oh…nothing.” Nathan shrugged it off. That was to be
expected. If this event Nathan was planning had proved anything, it was that he thrived on denial.

The vote went the way Nina suspected it would: three to one—
her
—in favor of a media circus.

She told Albertha to order gallons of champagne. She planned on downing a lot of it on her own.

 

Every chance he got, Nathan monitored Nina's cell phone messages just in case Sam came to his senses and tried to contact her. It was Nathan's intention to intercept that call, if and when it ever came.

When Sam had the misfortune to call while Nina was bathing Jake before bedtime, Nathan got his chance.

That was why she never got to hear Sam tell her what a fool he had been for walking out without first hearing from her, eye to eye, that she preferred to work things out with Nathan as opposed to starting fresh with Sam. She also never got to listen to him ask her to reconsider that stance, because he knew he would make her happier than Nathan ever could. She also missed hearing him choke up as he asked her to “meet with me once more, no strings attached, I swear! I just want to say good-bye to you in person.”

Yeah, right. I know what's best for Nina and it's not you, asshole, it's me! The last thing I want is for you to rock my boat, so get lost, guy. Besides, if you had been a better agent, none of this would have happened in the first place!

If hanging around Kat had taught Nathan anything, it was that your agent (or better yet, your former agent) always made a great fall guy.

 

They'd been back together only a week, and already Nina's jealousy was driving them both crazy.

The affair's ghostly presence could still be felt by both of them—particularly when they went out together to industry events. Just the other night, at some celebrity “Bowl for the Cure” (one of the many publicity-worthy functions Fiona had Nathan attending to capitalize on his recent notoriety), Nina had watched him like a hawk, ready to pounce whenever another woman came even within sniffing distance of him.

And boy, was that often! In fact, every time Nathan took his turn on the lanes, in unison the comely heads of every starlet, pop star, and celebutante bowler turned to admire the butt—swathed in a distressed pair of D&G jeans—that had launched a thousand orgasms from the infamous Kat.

A particularly persistent admirer of Nathan's backside was Jillian Wharton, one of his costars in his newest film,
Thriller
, which had just started preproduction.

“Is that woman following us, or something? She seems to show up every place we go,” fretted Nina to Nathan.

“Who? Oh, uh, her? Jillian?” He tried to laugh off her paranoia. “I'm guessing that Fiona's got her on the same publicity circuit. You know, she's one of ICA's clients, too. This picture is a package deal, remember?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Nina still wasn't convinced. “And why does she giggle that way, every time you open your mouth? She even giggles when you sneeze.”

“She's just being, you know, friendly.” Subconsciously, he waved over at the starlet, who waved back as she giggled again. “I've been helping her with her lines on the set. This is a big break for her, and she doesn't want to blow it.”

“As long as that's all she doesn't want to blow.” Nina retorted. She was up next. With no effort at all, she threw a strike. Turning back around, she expected a big thumbs-up from Nathan. Instead she caught him winking at Jillian.

She refused to talk to him the rest of the night.

He pretended not to notice, but then he attacked her when they got home. “What, now I can't even smile at another woman? Nina, it's part of my job to turn on the charm! Do you know how hard that is to do when every time I turn around, the paparazzi is waiting to catch me doing something to piss you off? Okay, I get the fact that you don't trust me! But at least when we're in public, let everyone see that we're just one big happy family, all right?”

But the truth was that they weren't happy. At least, she wasn't.