Morning Glory - A Novelette (2 page)

Without looking up from the assignments desk, Rick points to the whiteboard behind him. “They’re covering a fire in the Valley.”

My heart races. “How bad?”

“Two homes, but I hear the fire trucks just arrived. I’m thinking it’s going to be four homes because of the winds, though.”

“Keep me updated, okay?”

He looks up at me with his seen-it-all-newsman expression, but he softens. “Sure, Hayley.”

“Thank you.” I walk back into my office and close the door. Then I grab my phone out of my purse and text Nick:
D
inner at my place
at eight
. Making your favorite. Be safe and don’t be late.

He doesn’t reply. I remind myself he’s busy and the camera is heavy, so he needs both hands. Two hours later, I run a hundred excuses through my head to justify why I haven’t heard from him, but none of them soothe me.

I check the team stats every half hour. They’ve filmed two live shots, so I know he’s all right, but I’m still worried. The fire has gotten worse, and Greg is known to take risks for a scoop. Nick will follow to get the shot, but I hope he’s not led into the danger.

At three, I head into a meeting for a new account I’ve been trying to land. Their advertising dollars could boost my numbers and put me on top for the month.

It’s hard to concentrate during the meeting. I muddle through my presentation then decide to give them a tour of the studio, so we take the elevator down one level. When the doors open, everyone is scrambling, and Rick is shouting out orders.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, already running to the board behind Rick. I glance at it, but no new information is listed. “Rick?”

“Hayley.” He walks around his desk, takes hold of my arm, and
tries to
pull me with him. “We should talk in your office,” he says in a whisper while eyeing my clients.

I stand my ground.
“Tell me now.” He stares at me for too long. Seconds feel like hours, and it makes me testy as my worry amplifies. “Is it—”

“It’s Grayson. He’s been taken to the hospital.” He sits back down. “We’ve been told it’s minor and to stay focused on our jobs.”

I want to feel sympathy for the injured reporter, but I’m still worried about my best friend. “Nick’s with him?”

“He’s fine. He drove him to the hospital.”

I nod before releasing a huge sigh of relief.

*
*
*

After work, I grab the ingredients to make Nick’s favorite meal and get to work boiling the lasagna noodles. I seem to hear every tick of the second hand and can’t stop myself from constantly checking my phone for any new messages. I haven’t heard from him, and that worries me. He’s safe. He’s just busy. I try to convince myself that’s all it is.

By eight o’clock, I pull the lasagna out of the oven and open a bottle of red wine. I bring my glass with me and sit at the table to wait.

8:05 – I check my watch and see it’s only been five minutes since I last checked it.

8:10 – I’ve drunk more than half of my wine.

8:15 – After filling my glass up again, my mind tests my nerves by running wild.

8:30 – What has to be my tenth text to Nick is sent. My mind wanders, and I’m really worried. It’s not like him not to respond.

8:45 – Wanting to close my mind off to the dark thoughts, I rest my head on the table.

8:55 – A knock on the door startles me.

I swing it open, and there’s Nick leaning against the doorframe all cocky smiles and dirty clothes from the events of the day. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Throwing my arms around his neck, I close my eyes, and let myself cry. Although I know I’m acting a bit over the top, I don’t care. I’m just so happy to see him.

I feel the urge to kiss him, to kiss him all over, but I suppress the feeling, assuming I’m
just
overemotional these days.

But I do take out my frustration by hitting his chest. “You can’t do that to me! You can’t leave me like that! You scared the life out of me.” Even though I’m furious with him, I have tears streaming down my cheeks as every overwrought emotion exposes itself.

He grabs my wrists and moves me backward as he kicks the door closed with his foot. Looking me straight in the eyes, he says, “I missed you too, Hayley Girl.”

After I
wrangle free
, I
walk across the room, needing the distance, needing time to cool down and process the feelings I’m having right now. “It’s not about just missing you, Nick.”

“Then what’s it’s about?”

“Why didn’t you text me back, or better yet, call me?”

“I was working and then when Greg got hurt, I took him to the hospital. They wouldn’t let me use my phone. The nurses said I could compromise the medical equipment.”

“I was worried.”

“I was, too.”

I can’t be mad. I want to be, but what he did today was for someone else. I
cross the room
and hug him hard.

He takes my chin between his fingers and angles my face
up
to him. “Don’t apologize. No need.” He hugs me this time and says, “I’m sorry I’m late. Do I still get dinner?”

Through my tears, I burst out laughing. That’s just like him. He tells me not to apologize for getting angry with him, but he apologizes to me for being late because he took someone to the hospital. I look him in the eyes and smile, loving that my best friend can bring me out of my sad moods so easily. “Of course. Hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m starved, but do you mind if I take a shower?”

There’s soot on his clothes and dirt on his cheek
, so I say,
“You know where everything is.” He has a drawer of clothes in my dresser bec
ause he spends so much time
here.
Alejandro never understood the bond, the friendship I have with Nick, so he didn’t stay over here much. He preferred that I stay at his
place
. We only did that a couple times a week
,
if that
,
due to his crazy work schedule.

Alejandro
also
would have flipped if he knew that s
ometimes I wear
Nick’s
shirts
to sleep in
.
Nick
doesn’t
even
know
I do
this,
but
I find them comforting, like him.

Over dinner he tells me all that happened at the scene today and how Greg snuck under the police tape to get footage of
a
burning
swing set. Nick didn’t follow with the camera but was the first one to help
Greg
when the winds changed caus
ing
the awning to blow
down
and wrap around Greg’s legs.

“His burns are mild to second degree. He’s lucky,” he says.

I rest my chin on my hands and look directly into his eyes. “He’s lucky to have you as his partner.”

“Anyone would have helped.”

“That’s not true. But what is true is that I’m lucky to have you in my life, and I’m glad you’re safe.”

We hold eye contact until he looks down at his plate. “I’ll wash up, since you cooked.”

After the dishes, we lounge in the living room to watch our favorite reality show and playfully argue about who should have been kicked off. Our laughter is a nice reprieve from the earlier scare.

Only he makes me feel this good, this happy.

Just after midnight, I
follow him
to the door
,
but
before he opens it, I
tug on the back of his
T
-shirt until he’s pulled back to me.

“Whoa!” he exclaims
which makes me laugh
.
as he tu
rns around to face me.

Pointing a finger at him, I say, “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

He gives me a soft smile and takes my hand. “I’ll try not to. Am I still invited on Wednesday?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I hug him, needing to be as close as I can because I’m feeling sappy. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His hands are warm as he rubs my back. “Get some rest. You look tired.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“You look beautifully tired. Is that better?”

“Yes, much.” I push him out the door. “Go get some rest yourself. You’ve earned it.”

“Night, Hay.”

“Good-night.”

*
*
*

Two nights later, I’m sitting at the bar at the Golden Gopher on West 8
th
Street when my phone buzzes. I read the text:
Turn around.

I spin on the barstool and see Nick walking towards me with a huge grin on his face. It’s contagious. He makes me feel giddy and happy, so I smile
big and
goofy, too. “Hey there.” I poke him in his side.

He slides onto the stool next to mine, his blue eyes bright even in the dim light. Leaning forward, he kisses my cheek. “Hi.”

That’s new.
“What gives with the kisses, buddy? Usually you have to buy me dinner first
for that kind of action
,” I say, trying for a joke.

He orders a beer from the bartender then angles towards me. “I think the other day made me appreciate my life and the people I have in it.”

“Sounds like the job is getting to you. You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

He laughs so hard his head tilts back before looking me in the eyes. “Two things you can never say to a man, Hayley, and this is important, so take notes. The first is, you can never mention if his forehead is getting bigger—
”

“Why?”

“Because that means his hairline is receding.”

“Yours isn’t.”

“Thank you,” he says and runs his fingers through his hair as if double checking. “The second is, you never, under any circumstances, insinuate a man is ‘going soft’ on you. That’s just not good for the ego or the relationship.”

Now I’m laughing, and I shake my head. “It’s amazing that no matter what a woman says, a man will make his penis the center of attention. That’s quite a talent.”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “We guys consider it more of a skill than a talent.”

I roll my eyes. “And on that note, I’m changing the topic now. Where are the others?”

“They’ll meet us at
that new bar down the street
.”

I finish my gin and tonic and hop off the stool. “I’m ready. Let’s get this pub crawl going.”

“Guess I’ll pay the tab.” His tone is serious, but the sarcasm is evident.

“I already paid for both of us.” I wink at him. “I knew you’d order a beer on draft.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. “And I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

I elbow him lightly in the ribs. “Yeah, yeah. You’re buying the next round.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He opens the door
,
and we walk down one block and up another to the next bar.

When we get inside, I hear, “Hayley! Nick!”

We look to our left and see Jennifer, a friend from college, and her older and very handsome brother, Chance, standing behind her.

“Play nice, Nicky,” I whisper as we approach.

“I always do,” he replies under his breath. “Jennifer! So good to see you.” He wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace, which seems to take her by surprise. “It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, since New Year’s, Nick,” she mumbles. Her expression is confused as if she’s not in on the joke.

I laugh. He’s ridiculous. We switch places
,
and I hug her. She whispers, “What’s with the greeting?”

“He’s feeling sentimental these days.”

“Ah, I see.”

It’s funny how she’s good with that answer, as if that explains everything. Her lack of response makes me giggle.

Chance is still standing there with a shy expression.

He comes over
,
smil
ing
at me. We’ve flirted in the past and kissed once when I was nineteen, but nothing more. Nick has never liked Chance
and
I’ve never understood why.

“Hi, it’s been a while,” Chance says, taking my hand.

We do this awkward dance where I move forward but he sticks his hand out, then he moves to hug me and I stick my hand out to shake. This is probably why we never dated. We were never in sync. Finally, we figure it out and hug.

“Yeah, at least six months.”

“More like eight,” he says, like it’s a fact. Maybe it is.