“What guy with headphones?”
My response was breathless. “We saw him outside the studio. Long brown hair, in his forties maybe—”
“Was he wearing a flannel shirt?”
“Yeah. That’s him.” I arched against him, pressed myself into his palm.
“That son of a bitch.” Nico paired his language choice with an acrid smile.
“What?”
“That’s my producer, Larry. I—” He hesitated, stole another kiss. “First of all, we moved up the taping schedule today because I was going to fly back to Chicago tonight.” Nico paused, his eyes examining my face. “I had to see you. You need to know, you must know, as long as you’ll have me I’m yours. God, Elizabeth—” he grimaced as though in pain and his hands tightened on my body, “—I’ve been going crazy, every day, you’re all I think about. When I close my eyes you’re all I see. I need you—” he brushed a soft, lingering kiss against my mouth, “—I love you.”
“Oh.” My face crumpled a little, and my heart expanded until my chest felt full. “Nico . . .”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“And I’m sorry I was so awful to you. I’m sorry for everything.”
His eyes were twinkling and dreamy. I lost myself for a moment in their depths then realized he was speaking again.
“Wait, what?”
His eyes narrowed teasingly. “I said, Larry could’ve easily told me you were here. I wear an earpiece while on stage. He must’ve seen an opportunity for a ratings stunt.”
“He also said you wouldn’t be off stage for another ninety minutes, but it’s only been thirty or so.”
“I’m going to kill him. What a bastard.”
“Let’s plot his death later. I have to leave in seven minutes if I’m going to make it back to Chicago in time.”
Nico blinked at me. My words had an immediate sobering effect. “You have to go back? Tonight?”
I nodded. “I have to get back for the infusion, and I have and late-night shift.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, no, no—why are you going to work? Shouldn’t you be taking time off?”
I stroked his back, loved that I could touch him. I never wanted to take that for granted. “It’s okay. I’m really fine.”
“You’re not fine.” His brow pulled into a deep V. “Don’t tell me you’re fine.”
“I have a plan.”
His frown intensified. “Well, let’s hear it.”
“I’m going to—” I cleared my throat, firmed my voice. “I’m going to see someone, a psychiatrist, a friend of Sandra’s. And I’m going to cut back on double shifts.”
“For how long?”
“The next two weeks.”
Nico considered me, mulled over this information. “I’m glad you’re going to see someone. That’s really good. But, you just went through something extremely stressful. Don’t you think you need some time off?” He didn’t look convinced.
“Well,” I continued, brought the back of my hand to his stomach, brushed my knuckles against his bare skin. “I’m going to ask for a few days off.”
Finally his eyes brightened. “Okay. Good. That’s good.”
“I’m glad you approve.” I cupped his cheeks, brought his face to mine a placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I have six minutes left.”
“I can’t leave till after the next taping.” His eyes moved between mine. After a moment his forehead fell to my shoulder. “Damn. This sucks.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“I thought . . .” His voice was muffled by my neck. He placed a wet kiss just under my ear, making me shiver. “I wanted to explain, about Friday. I thought I’d scared you, Friday morning, when I told you what I wanted, when I told you I wanted to marry you. I pushed you into this, I know that, but I shouldn’t have left angry. I should have waited until we had time to talk, come to an agreement.”
“You overreacted.”
He nodded. “I did.”
“It’s okay.” I waited until he met my gaze before continuing, “In case you haven’t noticed, I am an expert on overreacting. You’re forgiven as long as you forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For the multitude of mistakes I’ve made as well as the ones I haven’t made yet. There will be many. It’s my talent, making mistakes. My expertise is overreacting and my talent is making mistakes.”
“Well, then, we have that in common.” His mouth tilted in a sheepish smirk.