Restoring Hope (28 page)

“What are you doing?” Nic asked Hope as she hung her new clothes in the closet of the downstairs condo. Nic had come home from work to a note saying she was at her place, and he’d marched downstairs.

“Putting my clothes away. Can you hand me that bag on the bed?”

“Sugar, I can see what you’re doing, what I want to know is why you’re doin’ it here?”

Hope turned to Nic, confusion on her face. Then she paled a bit.
Did he not want her to move back into the condo?

“I, well, do you want me to move?”

“Angel,” Nic growled.

“I’m sorry, I just thought . . . I’ll pack my things and look for another place in the morning.”

Nic rolled his eyes to the ceiling praying for patience and then grabbed her as she tried to move past him.

“You aren’t movin’ anywhere but upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Hope asked shocked.

“Upstairs, with me, now pack your shit and let’s get changed and head out for dinner.”

“Nic, I can’t move in with you it’s too soon.”

“Do you love me?”

“Nic—”

“Do you love me, Hope,” he demanded, giving her a squeeze to get her full attention.

Hope’s breath hitched as she stared at him. Yes, she loved him, so much it scared her to speak the words. But, as Nic stood there demanding to know, the vulnerable look on his face as he waited for her answer, she melted. Nodding her head because she couldn’t deny him anything, she whispered, “Yes, I love you more than anything.”

Nic closed his eyes as Hope whispered she loved him. He’d been so busy trying to make up for the pain he’d caused her that it hadn’t occurred to him until just then that she might not love him back. Lowering his head to hers, keeping his eyes trained on her sky-blue pools, he answered “Then get your ass upstairs, baby, ‘cause I’m hungry and from the looks of those bags it’s gonna take you a while to sort this shit out.”

“That wasn’t very romantic, Nic. I’m standing in your arms handing you my heart, and you tell me to get my ass upstairs?”

“I’ll rephrase it then,” Nic mumbled as he brushed a kiss against her lips. “I love you and want you in my bed every night, now, get your
sweet
ass upstairs before I haul you to the floor and show you just how much you mean to me.”

“Better,” Hope breathed out on a whisper sending a jolt of arousal through him.

“Oh, sugar, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he whispered back and then claimed her mouth, her body and her heart.

As they lay amongst the clothes that seemed to scatter during their closet romp, Nic picked up a skimpy dress and raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t actually think I’ll let you outside in this dress?”

“What’s wrong with it,” Hope demanded, snatching the dark purple with plunging neckline dress from his hand. It was perfect for dinners out Hope thought, and Rose said Nic would love it.

“Oh, the list is long, but the most important one is I’d end the night in a fight with anyone who looked at you.”

“You’re cute when you go all macho manly “this is
my
woman” hands off,” Hope giggled.

“Angel,” Nic interrupted her giggling and rolling his naked body onto hers.

“What?” she laughed.

“Your tits in that dress would stop a Mardi Gras parade.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she chuckled.

“I’m a man, same thing,” he explained and then moved down her body, pulled a pink hard nipple into his mouth, and again gave her breasts the attention they deserved. Needless to say, they never made it out to dinner that night.

One week later . . .

“You are not buying me a car,” Hope informed Nic as she made breakfast that morning. He was nuts, certifiable even if he thought for one minute that she would allow him to buy her a car.

Nic just sipped his coffee as he opened the paper and grumbled, “I can and I will.”

“Nic, I don’t need a car, I can walk to work from here.”

“Yeah, sugar, you can, but what if I need you to pick Nicky up for me, or you need to go uptown or a million other places,” Nic explained, shocked she had a problem with him buying her a car. She was his woman for Christ sake; did she think he’d make her ride the trolley or take a taxi to buy groceries?

“Then I’ll get a loan and buy my own car,” Hope retorted her hands on her hips trying to convey just how serious she was in this matter. He was not buying her a car.

“I can’t believe I let you use sex to get your way,” Hope complained the whole way from the Jeep dealership.

“A man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do to get his woman to toe the line,” Nic chuckled and then grinned as he took a right on Frenchman’s street heading towards The Bayou.

They were currently in Hope’s new, all white, and loaded to the max Jeep Wrangler Sahara—with leather seats and tow package of course, Nic had insisted.

Hope had made the mistake of A.) Challenging the man and B.) Expressing her love of all things Jeep when she’d said she would buy her own car. Two hours and multiple orgasms later, Nic had coerced her into letting him buy her a car.

“You’ve been holding out on me, by the way,” Hope complained.

“Sugar, in the game of life a man’s gotta have a few tricks up his sleeves.”

“Interesting, so if I wanted to get my way then all I’d have to do is show you how flexible I am?”

“Flexible?”

“Very, very flexible,” Hope breathed out like a 1-800 phone sex operator and then finished with “I’ve been studying yoga for ten years to deal with stress,
sugar
. . . Does downward dog mean anything to you?”

Nic’s grin fell and his eyes heated, “That just earned you a cell phone,” he bit out as he pulled into the employee parking lot and parked.

“Wait that wasn’t supposed to happen,” Hope cried out.

“Then you shouldn’t have mentioned the positions I can get you in,” Nic chuckled as he grabbed her neck and pulled her to his mouth, “Downward dog tonight, sugar.”

“I’ve got a big mouth,” Hope sighed.

“And you use it well.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“Don’t be cute,” Nic mumbled and then kissed her before letting her go and exiting the Jeep.

Hope got out, slammed the door, and looked at her all white, to die for Jeep and grinned.

“See ya, snowflake.”

“Jesus, you named your Jeep?” Nic laughed as he hooked his arm around Hope’s neck and walked her to the back of the bar while pocketing her keys. Hope watched the keys disappear and frowned.

“Are you ever gonna let me drive her?”

“Tomorrow, after you’ve earned it yoga master,” Nic grinned and then opened the door and walked her in while she stared daggers at him.

Before heading to the front of the bar, Nic kissed her sweetly, ran his nose down the side of her own and then whispered, “Make me something fiery, angel, just like you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The honeymoon period is beautiful to watch
,
Rose thought as her eyes followed Hope as she brought a meal to Nic at the bar. It had been more than two weeks since she’d jumped from that train and every day they grew closer and closer. The shadows they both carried in their eyes seemed almost gone, and the playfulness between them made Rose’s heart swell with happiness. She’d come to love Hope like a daughter and Nic was already like her son. She’d never met two people who deserved to be happy and in love more than those two.

She knew there would be good times and bad times, you don’t go through what they had and come out unscathed. But, Nic was a strong man, and he could bear Hope’s troubles easily on his shoulders. Hope, she had come to find out, was tough as nails. Abused, scared to leave, lost her baby and had to sleep next to a man she despised. There weren’t many women who could bear that and not be irrevocably damaged, yet in her own way, Rose knew that she was. But, Hope was made of sterner stuff, had adapted the best she could to what life threw at her, and managed to survive with a good sense of self still within her. She figured there would be days that it would sneak up on Hope. Seeing a little boy playing or when a man raised his voice, but our life experiences make us who we are, mold us, shape our perspective and since you can't run from your past, you move forward. The key to overcoming past tragedies is to move on with your life, be productive, live life to the fullest, not bury yourself in the pain. What better way to thumb your nose at someone who tried to destroy you than to say, “Look at me, I’m still standing,” and Hope was doing just that!

She confided in Rose, told her she still felt guilty for her son’s death, but placed the blame for the rest where it belonged, square on the shoulders of her dead husband. She’d told Nic the ugly details of her husband’s death, and he’d shared the emotional moment when he’d seen his daughter laid out on the table in the morgue. Talking about your pain with someone who knows how it feels is the first step in healing, and who better to share it with than someone you love and can understand, she figured.

Rose looked around the bar, saw they had a light crowd and since she was so happy at that moment for her friends, decided they needed an impromptu party to celebrate love conquering all.

“Big Daddy!” Rose shouted through the kitchen pass-thru.

“Comin’ old woman, where da’ fire?”

When he reached the window, Rose smiled, and hooted, “Grab your scrub-board it Zydeco time.”

Big Daddy hooted back and turned to Roscoe, Rose’s husband, who’d made an uncommon appearance at the bar and shouted, “Rosie in da’ mood for a partay,’ grab your accordion old man and let’s rock da’ house.”

“Well, all right,” Roscoe agreed and moved to Rose’s office where she kept one of his piano-accordions for just such emergencies.

Rose turned around smiling after watching the two men get their instruments and shouted, “Time to get to da’ ass shakin,’ Abby, move dem’ tables and make Maman a dance floor.”

Hoots and hollers could be heard around the bar as Abby and the other waitresses began moving customers to booths and stacking the tables in the corner. Big Daddy and Roscoe came out and stood at the wall while Rose pulled out her harmonica and blew it.

“Listen to Maman y’all,” Rose shouted, “Dis’ here a celebration of life. We can no change da’ past, but we sure as hell can enjoy da’ ‘futcha.
Laissez le bon temps rouler,
let’s bring dis’ house down, yes?”