Before Sewanee could respond, Cosmo came back into the control room and said their mics were set up and they could start whenever they were ready.
Nick stood.
He held his hand out to her.
“I may have missed my opportunity last night, but how about we put this to bed?”
THEY EXITED THE studio into the bright light of day, giddy. There’d been a grovel, an admission of love, mind-blowing makeup sex, and then, but of course, a proposal and ensuing HEA. And throughout it all, they’d been connected. Real.
They paused on the sidewalk and Nick clapped his hands together. “Right! Should we go to yours or mine?”
Sewanee made a show of considering this, batted her lashes. “Well, gosh, Nick. I’m not sure.”
He smirked and took her hand, then her wrist, then her forearm, reeling her into him like a rope. “I can make right here work.”
Sewanee unspooled herself, stepped back, put her hands on her hips. “Oh golly! Gee, I simply couldn’t.” And then she bounced away. Nick had no choice but to give chase.
He raised a suspicious brow. “Why do I feel like I’m in a scene from Grease?”
Sewanee giggled coyly. “Let’s get a celebration drink first, mister, and see where that takes us.”
“Tell me you mean booze and not a milk shake.”
“Why, of course, you silly!”
He sidled up close to her, his fingers finding their way to the back pocket of her jeans. “Is it weird this whole retro thing is turning me on?”
She slapped his hand away. “You behave yourself, Nicholas Sullivan.”
Nick groaned. “Is this payback for last night, Sandra Dee?”
Sewanee stopped, turned around, all wide doll eyes, and placed her hand on her chest. “Why, whatever do you mean?” Never breaking eye contact, she slowly slid her hand downward, and then around both breasts, and then out for him to take. Daintily. Like a lady. “Shall we?”
Just as he was about to take it, she turned and kept walking.
“Oh, we are going to ‘shall we’ all right,” Nick promised, trotting after her.
They crossed a piazza, the open door of a taverna on the other side beckoning. There were a few tables set up outside, folded wooden chairs leaning against them. They sat and waited for the server to come and take their order. Normally Sewanee would have ventured inside to get someone’s attention, but not today, not now. Every extra minute she played Nick was an hour in Nick time. Besides, she was more than content to be sitting in a somewhat rickety chair, at a somewhat rickety table, with a very solid Nick. A solid if somewhat frustrated, somewhat derailed, somewhat put-out Nick.
Before the waiter even landed at the table, Nick held up two fingers and called out to him, “Prosecco, grazie.”
The waiter spun right around and went back inside.
Nick was silent, looking out at the piazza. He drummed his fingers on the table between them.
“What are you thinking?” she asked in her normal voice.
“What I want to do to you first,” he answered without hesitation.
Would his honest directness ever not catch her off guard? It was so disarmingly sexy.
She looked down at his hand. At the ring on his middle finger. She reached over and touched it. “Does this have a story?”
He interlaced their fingers. “It was Tom’s. June’s ex-partner? She refused to marry him. And she didn’t believe in rings. But he did, so he wore one.”
“That’s sweet.”
“No, it’s not. It was a fight. Everything with them was a fight. You don’t want to marry me? Fine! I’ll wear a ring anyway, how do you like that?” Nick had to chuckle. “Maniacs.” His focus went back to it. “I found it in her stuff after she died. I never knew she’d taken it with her when she moved us back to the States.”
“Is he still around?”
“He is. I’m actually going to stop over in Dublin on the way home. Check on him.” He looked into her eye. “He took it hard. Even though it’s been, what, twenty years since they split. I think he always believed she’d come back to him.”
The waiter dropped off two glasses of bubbly and Nick gave him cash, told him to keep the change. When he was gone, they raised their glasses.
“To . . .” Nick said, an echo of their Vegas toast. He waited for Sewanee to join in, but she took a moment and then said instead: “To June.”
“Of course,” he murmured, “to Junie.” Then, “For bringing you to me.”