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One It was, Nikki decided, one of life’s great pleasures to watch Helen Stewart walk into a room. It wasn’t the sway of her hips or the shape of her calf or the play of her winter coat against her body. Well, okay, maybe that was part of it. But what Nikki really cherished was that moment: the one when—after scanning a sea of faces—Helen’s eyes alighted on her own. Sometimes Helen would lift up a hand, or wink, or simply offer a smile, but always she would hold Nikki’s gaze and sigh. Nikki’s eyes made promises that Helen always understood. Whatever happened before you walked in this door doesn’t matter; I’m here now, and I will shelter you. Helen’s belief was Nikki’s reward. On this particular night, Helen waved, and made her way quickly across the restaurant. “You’re late,” Nikki accused as she slid over to make room for Helen in the booth, then added sweetly, “I missed you today.” “I’m sorry,” Helen answered, reaching over to kiss Nikki’s cheek, lingering near her ear. “I’ll make it up to you.” Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Helen pulled back and grinned. “Mmm hmm.” The hum of Helen’s reply made the hair on Nikki’s neck tingle. “How much time do you have?” Nikki asked. “I missed you an awful lot.” Helen dropped her eyelids and smiled indulgently. “As long as it takes.” Nikki felt a rush of warmth sweep through her body — and was just about to tell Helen exactly how long it would take — when Claire Walker, cleared her throat loudly from across the table. “That’ll do, lovebirds,” Claire said, and Helen had the good grace to look embarrassed. She hadn’t even seemed to notice that Trish and Claire were at the table. “Hi ya,” Helen offered sheepishly. “Good to see you two.” “Oh, you can see us then?” Trish responded, earning her a swift kick under the table from Nikki. To Nikki’s relief the waiter chose that moment to show up and take their drink order. After he’d listed the specials and shuffled away, Nikki decided to shift the direction of the conversation. “So what is it?” she asked. “You two invited us here to celebrate. What are we celebrating?” Claire shot Trish a furtive glance before clearing her throat and saying, “Erm… well, it’s not actually a celebration… per se.” “Per se?” Helen asked, eyeing Claire warily. Claire cleared her throat. “Trish and I just thought maybe you two could use a little help with the wedding planning.” Helen shifted uncomfortably before saying, “It’s under control.” “And by control you mean that you’ve literally done nothing in preparation?” Claire asked, in her solicitor’s tone. “Not nothing,” Helen answered. “Yes, nothing.” “No, not!” Helen snapped. Claire tilted her head to the side, “What?” “No, not nothing!” Helen said. “Okay, see, now you’re just saying words.” Helen’s nostrils flared, and Nikki calculated that in 30 seconds every patron in the restaurant would be looking toward their table. “I – can – handle – it,” Helen said, through the taut line her lips had formed. “Now look, Helen,” Claire said calmly. “Your wedding is two months away and you don’t have a dress picked out, a photographer booked, a caterer planned. You haven’t chosen flowers, a DJ, or even a venue to actually get married in.” “It’ll get done!” “You’re right; it will get done, because I am going to sit right here and make you do it!” Helen narrowed her eyes. “Make me do it?” “Yes,” Claire responded. “Make you.” Nikki was shaking her head surreptitiously at Claire, who either did not notice or did not care. Helen did not fancy being surprised, did not fancy implications that she was incompetent at something, and certainly did not fancy being told that she was going to be ‘made to’ do something. Nikki found Helen’s temper to be quite sexy when it wasn’t directed at her — and, admittedly, sometimes when it was — and as much as she liked the thickness of her Scottish accent and the firmness of her jaw when she was this close to becoming unhinged, Nikki decided she’d better step in and diffuse the situation before the shouting started. She gently clasped Helen’s hand in her own, and said, “I think it’s a good idea, Darling. We really should be making preparations.” Helen inhaled deeply, her eyes still fixed contemptuously on Claire. “Fine,” she said, though clearly it was not. “And you come sit by me,” Trish said, joining the conversation and motioning toward Nikki. “I’m sorry?” Nikki said. “You can sit here and Claire can sit by Helen. That’s how we’re dividing up the responsibilities anyway; you two need some accountability. It’ll be like a football draft.” “And I’m sure I can sit here and conduct it,” Nikki answered. Trish looked to Claire for help, but the mutinous look on Helen’s face kept Claire quiet. After a moment, Trish spoke up. “You’ll take advantage of Helen.” “What? With you two sitting across the table? What do you think I am, some kind of–” “Oh, come off it, Nik!” Trisha said hotly. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve got eight weeks to pull off an entire wedding. You’ve had nearly eight months, but every time either of you start talking about florists or caterers you end up moony-eyed and shagging like rabbits until neither of you is good for anything!” “You’re being–” Nikki started, but Trish cut her off again. “And Helen is going to get tipsy, and if you’re sitting there nuzzling her, she’s not going to be able to say no to anything you ask her to do.” Helen let go of Nikki’s arm, which she’d been grasping tightly since Trish had instructed her to switch seats, and let out a loud, “Hrmph!” “I’m sorry, Love, but it’s true,” Trish said to Helen. “What’s the problem with that?” Nikki asked. “The problem is that Helen is overworked at her office, and you’re co-chairing Monica Lindsey’s charity Christmas dinner, and when Helen doesn’t get around to doing the things she’ll wish she hadn’t agreed to while staring into your sappy brown eyes, you’ll end up doing the work. And, just as an afterthought, you are the co-owner of one of the most successful nightclubs in London, which does require a modicum of your time.” Trish was right, and Nikki knew it. Once they’d rearranged themselves, and the drinks had been served, Claire began pulling supplies out of her bag. There were calendars and lists of responsibilities for everyone, legal pads, pens, and dozens of pamphlets on every service the Greater London wedding industry had to offer. Helen, who’d calmed considerably after one drink, snorted into her wineglass when Claire began handing out Post-It notepads; her mirth landing her a swift elbow in the ribs from her best friend. “I’m sorry,” Helen said, burying her smile in her napkin. “It’s just that you’ve worked all these years to become a top solicitor. I didn’t know your secret ambition was wedding coordination.” The splitting up off responsibilities actually went quite well. Trish and Nikki chose to search for the caterer and the DJ; with their contacts in the industry, they’d make easy work of it. Helen, of course, chose cake first, and then flowers. Together, Nikki and Helen agreed to pick out their wedding attire and rings, assuring Claire and Trish that they would not get kicked out of the store by shagging in the fitting room, and that the rings and clothes would be ordered by the following weekend. By the time they were finishing up their entrées, there were only four things left on the list, and Claire had loosened her chokehold on the direction of the dinner. As the conversation turned toward other things, Nikki leaned back and allowed herself a moment to soak in the company of these, her closest friends. Claire had proven a loyal companion during Nikki’s appeal years ago at Larkhall, and since then she’d come to count on Claire for advice and laughter and the occasional moment of reeling Helen in. Trish had been Nikki’s partner for nine years, and even though she knew Trish regretted ending things with her, and knew that Trish would have loved to give their relationship another chance, Trish had grown to respect her relationship with Helen, and ultimately to love Helen herself. If Trish noticed the possessive way Helen’s arm wrapped around Nikki’s waist when Trish and Nikki were enjoying an inside joke, or the deep way Helen kissed Nikki when she was leaving her alone with Trish, she never mentioned it. Aside from Helen, Trish was Nikki’s dearest friend. Helen laughed at something Claire said, her eyes dancing in the low light of the restaurant. Nikki loved Helen’s laugh. It was husky and raw with emotion. Helen laughed the way she made love, and the sound of it caused Nikki’s heart to thump happily in her chest. She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand, and smiled across the table. Any way she looked at it, Nikki was head-over-heels, arse-over-elbow in love with Helen Stewart. She could not wait to stand up in front of their friends and family and promise forever. |
