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“What?” He forces his eyes wide, feigning a look of innocence.
“Don’t what me. You’re purposely picking ugly décor items to put on my registry!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I cross my arms over top my chest, arching a brow. “You’re telling me you actually like that vase? That’s something you’d have in your house?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’d have it in my house. I’m not decorating for me right now. I’m decorating for you and Luc. It’s all about what screams Lucian.”
“A bronze koala bear screams douche.”
“Well, then—” Nicky scans the tag on the vase before placing it back on the shelf. “—I’m right on target, aren’t I?”
I snort, shaking my head as I go back to scanning the throw pillows beside me.
“Those aren’t gonna go with the rug you picked out,” Nicky teases me.
“I think you mean the rug you picked out.” I turn, tossing one of the tufted pillows at his head which he catches with ease. The $9,000 white sheepskin rug he scanned is not only one of the most impractical things I’ve ever laid eyes on, it’s also freaking hideous. “Joke’s on you, though. Lucian would love that thing.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” he mutters, running his fingers through his tousled blond locks.
“Hey, Nick,” I call his attention back to me. “Why aren’t koalas considered bears?”
“Because they’re marsupials. Well, technically they’re classified in their own family called Phascolarctidae.”
“No.” I snicker.
He shoves his hands into his pockets, his gaze hardening as though he can’t believe I have the audacity to dare challenge him.
“I assure you. That’s correct.”
It undoubtedly is. I sometimes forget how smart he is.
“Na-uh. It’s because they don’t have the right koalafications.” I bite down on my lip, fighting to control the laughter threatening to break free.
Nicky stares at me, blinking several times as though he’s struggling to process what I’ve said. Then he fucking loses it. I watch with absolute glee as Nicky C.—the head of an entire criminal empire—doubles over. He plants his hands on his knees, bracing himself as he howls with laughter. Random shoppers look on from various corners of the store, their disapproving glares doing little to quiet us.
“That is…” Nick pushes up, swiping at his eyes. “…the fucking dumbest shit…” He hyperventilates, struggling to force the words out. “…I’ve ever heard.”
“Damn, Conners. Been a minute since I’ve seen you laugh like that.” I chuckle, giving his arm a playful shove as I pass.
Swiping the last few remaining tears from his eyes, he follows me around a large shelf into the somewhat secluded bedding section. “Yeah, well, not many reasons to smile these days.”
“I miss her, too, Nick.” My lungs tighten at my reference of my best friend. “She’ll be home before you know it.”
“Nah, I know. It’s not even that. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking miss J. But shit’s just all so fucking heavy all the time.” He stares off at the wall, and I’m not even sure he realizes how hard he’s rubbing at his chest.
I scan his face, momentarily worried one of his panic attacks are about to make an appearance. While I wouldn’t care, I know Nicky would rather die than let anyone see him like that. My concern lasts a second longer before a quick bob of his Adam’s apple has him swallowing down any glimmers of emotion threatening to peek through.
“You good?”
He straightens, pulling his shoulders back to full height as that cool calm façade slips back into place. “You know it.”
Offering up a subtle nod, I begin perusing the items in a small shelving alcove off to the side.
“So,” Nicky’s hands slip into the pockets of his dress slacks once more, his body leaning against the corner of the wall, “how’d you get stuck doing this by yourself today, anyway? Work got the future hubby tied up?”
“If a five-foot-three blonde with a vocabulary that doesn’t expand beyond two-syllable words constitutes as work, then yeah.” My eyes slip closed, my hand frozen on the embroidered throw pillow on the shelf above me. Fuck. Why would I say that? The last thing I need is Nicky thinking I can’t keep my fiancée satisfied.
