The Anchor (18 page)

I refuse to look at Edie after I’ve explain what’s transpired between Parker and I in the last twenty-four hours. I know her face is about to split in two; she’s grinning so hard.

“Parker has impressed me,” she finally says. “And so have you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” she confirms. Standing from her seat at my kitchen table, she moves beside me at the counter. “Nikki Reese settling down,” she chuckles.

“We’re seeing how it goes,” I clarify. “That hardly constitutes as settling down.” Moving to the fridge, I grab two Cokes and head back to the table. Edie follows. I know, I know, I know. I shouldn’t drink Coke, I remind myself. But one a day . . . I have to have it. I have to or I’ll die. Maybe not die, but something close to it. Or I’ll make everyone around me wish I would. Or wish they would.

“But that’s a
huge
step.” Edie beams.

“It’s . . . something,” I reply.

“So what’s the plan?”

“There isn’t one at the moment,” I snort. “I’ll have to move. My father has ultimately said unless I come crawling back to him and apologize, he won’t help me. So that means I have to move and get a new car.”

“Move where?” Edie asks, panicked. “Not to New York?” I smile a little. The thought of me moving so far away scares her.

“No, I don’t want to live in New York.”

“Does Parker know that?”

“No,” I answer honestly before sipping my Coke.

“Do you think he’ll move here?”

“I have no idea,” I sigh. “This is why I know things won’t work out.”

“You don’t know that,” she says. “Look at me and Suit.”

Well, she has a point. “But that’s different. You literally couldn’t leave Holly Springs.”

“I could’ve sold the farm,” she argues.

“No. You couldn’t have. That farm is your birth right. It’s embedded in your DNA. I’m pretty sure your heart would stop beating without it.”

Edie smirks and nods once in thought. “I worry about that, ya know?”

“About what?” I ask, and my brows crease.

“Well, I wanted to be with Suit. I was so miserable when he left. I mean, my insides ached I missed him so bad. But if I had given up the farm . . . I would’ve been miserable, too.”

I lean forward and pat her hand. “But he came back and now you have it all. You have everything you deserve, Edie.”

“Yes, I do,” she agrees. “But what about Suit? He gave up his dream for me. He’ll never admit it, I know it, but I know deep down he’ll always wonder . . . what-if?”

This is something she worried about as she fell in love with John. When the discussion of them making a go of it together would come up, she’d always shut the door on it. I thought she was past it, but I can see now she’s not.

“Edie, I think we all live with what-ifs. I’m sure he does, that’s natural. But I truly believe John hasn’t and never will have any regrets about coming back here.”

She shakes her head and sits up straighter in her chair. “I’m glad you and Parker are going to try and make a go of it. Just please, Nikki, please . . .” she takes my hand, “really try. Don’t freak out. Not every man will disappoint you like your father. Parker may mess up, but try and give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I will,” I promise with a hesitant smile.

“And you’re moving in with us,” she adds as she stands.

“What?” I ask, perplexed. “No. I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “It will only be temporary. Until you and Parker figure out what it is you want to do. Screw your father.”

“Edie, I—”

“Start packing. I can get Joey and Dierk to come help us move your stuff.”

“Shit,” I huff. Now I’m an imposition moving in with my best friend and her soon-to-be husband. The thought has me reeling. What the hell am I going to do now? Pageants are gone. My father’s money is gone. How am I going to make money?

“Nikki,” Edie calls, jerking my attention to her. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” I play dumb.

“We will figure it out. Right now, focus on getting your shit packed, okay?”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agree. Edie James is a true softy, but she can be a hard-ass when she wants to be.

When I return to the apartment, Nikki is in her room, violin in hand. The floor is covered with various items; shoe boxes, clothes, and other random things.

“What’s all this?”

“Well . . .” Nikki sighs as if even the thought of explaining whatever it is, is exhausting. “I’m moving in with Edie for the time being until I figure out what I’m going to do.”

I let out my own sigh. Now is when shit gets complicated. I’m dreading this conversation. Nikki is already hesitant about giving us a try. Now, I’m really going to push her to her limits.

“So coming to New York with me . . .” Shit. How do I want to word this question?

“Isn’t an option,” she answers quickly. I can’t deny I’m somewhat annoyed. She’s not even going to consider it. My job is in New York. I need it to support me and her and our child. She must pick up on my aggravation as she adds, “We have time, Parker.”

Taking a seat beside her on the bed, I run a hand through my hair. “We do,” I agree. “But is moving to New York something you think you’d consider in the future?”

“Honestly . . .” she shrugs, “I don’t know.”

When I was younger and my mother would want to have a serious discussion with me, one that might upset me or make me angry, she’d always hold my hand while we spoke. And if I tried to get up and leave, she’d squeeze my hand and tell me we were going to finish. It probably sounds stupid, but looking back, I get what she was trying to do. Holding someone’s hand is a comfort, a way of saying I’m here. We’re in this together.

So I take Nikki’s small hand in mine and hold it. “You do know my job is in New York,” I tell her calmly.

“And that is why I know this will never work,” she replies and moves to stand, but I squeeze her hand and prevent her from leaving her seat. The squeeze isn’t hurtful, it’s firm, letting her know I intend to keep her beside me until we figure this out.

“Nikki. You promised me you’d try. If you throw in the towel before we’ve even started, can you honestly say you’ve tried?”

She moves the violin to the floor with her free hand and pivots in her seat so she’s facing me. Then, she shocks the hell out of me. She takes my other hand and squeezes it. I know she has no idea what she’s just done or how it’s affected me, but something inside of me snaps. I’ve been crazy about her since the moment I met her. But here, right now, it’s like she gave me a sign. A big, bright neon sign that says, ‘She’s The One.’

“You’re right,” she says.

Pulling one hand up, I kiss it. “There’s a lot to figure out. But know this, Nikki. In my mind, you are mine and we’re together. That means we talk shit out.”

Her brows furrow as if she’s annoyed. “You’re mad because I’m moving in with John and Edie?”

“I just wish you would’ve discussed it with me first.”

“It’s only temporary, Parker,” she argues.

“I understand that. I just mean, we have to start thinking of us as a unit, not as individuals. Decisions I make might impact you and you have a right to have a say in those decisions. And vice versa.”

I stare at her; waiting for her reaction. Her blonde hair is in this side braid, hanging over her shoulder, and she’s wearing these little boy shorts with a pink tank top. She looks sexy as fuck, but I remind myself to keep focused. I have to fly out tonight and we have to at least have an idea of what we’re working toward. I hate to leave her. And if she won’t come to New York then there’s only one option.

“I’ll start looking for a job here,” I tell her.

Her eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “Really?”

“It may take me a while, but I’m sure I can find something.” What I’ll find, I have no idea. But my woman and my baby are here and that’s where I need to be.

“Parker . . .”

“Don’t,” I warn. I squeeze her hands again to get her attention. When her eyes meet mine, I add, “We have to meet in the middle. I’m willing to sacrifice this for us. That’s what you mean to me. But there may come a day when you have to sacrifice . . . compromise, or meet me in the middle. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” she replies softly and smiles a little. “I can’t believe you’d give up your job and move here for me.”

“You’re worth that and more, Nikki. I have to fly out tonight, but I’ll start looking. I won’t give notice until I’ve found something. I want you and Edie to start house hunting. We can rent for a year if you’d like to, but find us a place we can at least bring the baby home to after it’s born.”

She nods once, and as her eyes dart away from mine, I catch a hint of panic in them. So I squeeze her hands again, drawing her back to me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She opens her mouth and quickly shuts it, shaking her head.

“What?” I ask.

“I just need to find something for me. Ya know. I want to be able to take care of myself.”

I nod in understanding. With pageants gone . . . at least for the moment, she wants something to keep her busy, help her make money. My mind is blank on what that something would be until I let my gaze fall to the floor and spot her violin.

“Do you play anything other than the violin?”

“I play the piano, but’s it’s been a while. Why?”

“When you find our new house, maybe there could be a music room. Have you thought about teaching?”

Her eyes widen as the idea sinks in. Then she nods. “Maybe. I never thought about teaching music, but I’m good at it.”

“It’s something you love to do and you’re great at it,” I encourage. She smiles with my words and her blue eyes stare at mine; a softness to them.

“You’re quite the man, Parker Hayes,” she tells me. Before I can respond, she leans in and kisses me, her body moving up and pushing me back on the bed until she’s straddling me. Her mouth leaves mine as she sits up and begins unbuttoning my shirt, a smile curving on her soft lips. “And you’re my man now,” she proclaims with a sexy purr. My chest tightens, as does the grip my hands have on her tiny waist. She just claimed me.

Fuck me.

“That means I can do anything I want to you.” She leans down and bites my shoulder, causing me to growl.

“Only if I let you, Nicole,” I tell her. If she wants to take control, I’ll let her. But she needs to understand it’s me that decides if she gets that control or not.

Trailing kisses from my shoulder up to my neck, she whispers, “Please. Please let me make you feel good,” she begs.

Permission granted.

And for the next hour, Nikki Reese takes her time showing me exactly how good she is at being in control.