His hand settles at my back. “We could get that cat you’ve wanted.”
I turn to face him. “Do you like cats?”
“I had a cat growing up.”
I blanch, surprised at this news. “Really? What was his name?”
“Asshole most of the time. Jerry the rest of the time. He hated my father. I loved him.”
I laugh but sober quickly with a thought that seems important, considering the steps we’re taking. “Do you want kids, Nick?”
His eyes meet mine, sharp, dark edges in his. “Kids break,” he says. “Parents break them. I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to break any of my own.”
Relief washes over me. “You know my family history. I feel the same.”
He strokes a lock of hair behind my ear, those blue eyes of his softening, warming. “Possibilities, sweetheart. We’ll start with a cat. We’ll see where it, and life, lead us.”
Thirty minutes later, we’re in the lounge area of the plane, champagne-filled flutes in our hands, when the realtor finally calls Nick back. I listen as Nick negotiates, his hand on my leg, touching me—he’s always touching me, as if he is truly obsessed. And I like it.
Five minutes later, he ends the connection and leans over to kiss me. “I made sure it’s ours. We just need to line up a remodeling expert and decide what we want to do with it before we move in.”
“How long will that take, do you think?”
“If I push them, I’d say we can be in the place in eight weeks.”
My cellphone rings, and I grab it from the table built into the floor in front of us, glancing at the caller ID. “Josh,” I greet, answering the line.
“I got your email about your arrival,” he says. “I’ll pick you up at the airport. Five o’clock, right?”
“I don’t need a ride, but thank you.”
“I’m your agent. I’ll give you a ride.”
“I’m not your only client at the show.”
“If you mean Macom, he can drive himself. He lives here.”
I firm my tone. “Thank you, but I don’t need a ride.”
There is a heavy pause. “Nick’s with you.”
“Yes,” I say, my eyes meeting Nick’s. “Nick is with me.”
Nick’s lips curve in amusement and he refills his glass.
Josh is silent for several beats before he replies with, “You need to make some time with me, without him, to meet the people I want you to meet tonight. And we’re having breakfast in the morning to talk about those meetings, without him. Don’t push back on this, Faith. I can’t get you the thirty thousand a painting I want to get you if you don’t let me agent.”
“I know that,” I say, wishing he’d been this eager to sell my work before Chris aided my career.“And I understand.”
“You better.” He hangs up.
Nick arches a brow.
I sigh and set my phone on the table. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know that he has his panties in a wad,” he says dryly, “because my very existence guarantees he can’t get your panties in a wad.”
“Stop saying things like that. It’s all I will be able to think about when I am with him.”