Burning Moth

Chapter Fourteen, Part Three - Say Please

Within a week, holes had been filled, carpet replaced, and lights restored. Just like that my apartment was livable again. And with the swipe of a card, the very same movers who had supplied Emily's furniture were back with mine-and the feeling was even more glorious than I imagined. I stood off to the side, arms crossed, observing in supreme satisfaction as uniformed men and women filed through the door like obedient worker ants. They carried more than their body weight in cottage-themed furniture, and the matching decor-all in coral pinks, soft, sky-blues and beach shell whites-because I intended to live every day like a vacation, and all at the expense of Emily Whatever-her-real-name-was Dixon. 

The movers set down the last piece of furniture against the living's room's far wall-a bench straight out of Architectural Digest. Nails between his teeth, Nick hammered a painting by Taeil Kim right above, then stepped back, twirling the hammer as he nodded in appreciation. The leader of the ants rolled up her sheet of plastic, accepted my tip with saucer-shaped eyes, and took her leave.

No sooner had I closed the door, than I was swept off my feet, screaming in delight as Nick carried me, bridal-style, to the new bench. He set me in his lap, then pulled something from his pocket and pressed it in my hand.

"A lot's happened lately, I've been waiting for a good moment to do this. I don't exactly have a speech, but hopefully this says enough. I want you to have it."

I opened my fingers, and gasped. "Nick! This is amazing! I'm so proud of you!" I threw my arms around him, hugging so fiercely we nearly fell from the bench.

"So, you like it? You weren't expecting something... shinier?"

"Are you kidding? There's nothing better than this. You're sober, for us--that's everything." I beamed at the bright blue chip in my hand. Nicholias was six months strong.

"I couldn't have done it without you--really. You make me a better person. I'm no saint, and I never will be, but I swear to god--I'd move heaven and hell for you. Sobriety, that's a cakewalk in comparison." He stroked my cheek. "So when I say ti amo, you better believe I mean it, Farfallina." Nicholias brushed my curls aside, wearing that sweet, crooked smirk that sent my heart from zero to one hundred. Who knew there were wings and a halo beneath those pitchfork and horns.

"Nick, high or sober, dead or alive, Bonnie and Clyde--I'm with you. I always will be. I hope you know I mean that." I grinned back at him, then tapped his chin and licked his nose.

He laughed, his fingers travelling up my bare thighs until his fingertips were beneath my shorts, his nails pressing my skin in just the way I liked. My Versace jumper with the spaghetti straps was ten seconds from hitting the floor. The heels would stay--the icing on his cake.

I bit my lip, lost in the spectrum of a deep blue haze, his gaze so astonishing I had goosebumps when I thought about it. We leaned close, closer, the closest we could be...

"Hey, Red. Hope I'm not interruptin'." The Cartier sunglasses suggested she had something to hide, the long brown legs beneath the fur coat swore she was a model, and just the way the stranger bit her lip promised she was up to no good.

"Sarai!" I jumped to my feet, stumbling in surprise.

"Sarai?" Nick was right behind me.

"Yeah. My mom."

* * *

Since he had the most guts out of all of us, Nick was first to break the silence.

"Well, this, uh, isn't exactly how I pictured our first meeting, but I'm glad it's finally happened..." He strode forward,his most handsome smile in place, hand extended. She accepted, her lips set in a pretty, bashful curve eerily similar to my own. "I'm Nicholias. Scar's..." He glanced at me, waiting for conformation I was more than happy to give.