Chapter Text
In the immediate (and even the not-so-immediate) aftermath of her and Malcolm’s separation, Nicola had to keep reminding herself that she hadn’t lost everything. She still had a solid list of blessings to count.
She still had the kids, all of whom were there for her after Malcolm left, knowing their mother was no stranger to disappointment but new to such a severe heartbreak. She had a job she loved and staff she could rely on. She had a therapist she could trust to listen patiently but take none of her bullshit. She had friends she’d made on her own, not just through work or a partner. She still did yoga and spoke to her mum on a regular basis. She lived in a house that was comfortable enough to alleviate just enough of her loneliness.
She accepted that even with her remaining support system and the ongoing mission of her Cabinet post propelling her forward, she might perpetually feel a little unmoored without her other half. She’d gotten so used to it that even after Malcolm kissed her, brought her home, helped her sort out their ample emotional baggage and kissed her a few more times, including in front of his favourite stepchild, it doesn’t sink in until they’re alone in the house again that she finally feels anchored for the first time in what feels like forever.
Ella’s left them alone now, but Nicola’s still staring several moments later at the place her daughter was standing, committing the last hour or so to memory. She’s here, with Malcolm, in their home, and Ella was here too, and their family of six will be fully reunited at some point soon, and she’ll get to see Chloé and hopefully Wendy in the coming weeks, and all will be right in her and Malcolm’s unfailingly chaotic world, something Nicola believed as recently as this afternoon that she didn’t deserve anymore.
Malcolm has taken the old familiar cue to simply hold her when she’s this deep in thought, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She puts her arms over his and half-expects him to rest his chin on the top of her head, but he doesn’t.
"Hell of a woman, that one," he whispers. Nicola takes his hand and lifts it to her lips, knowing he’s staring exactly where she is.
She knows both their phones must be exploding with messages from the other three kids and Malcolm’s side of the family, but she doesn’t feel like checking yet. She doesn’t feel like resuming what Ella walked in on, either.
“I’ve got an idea.”
Malcolm fidgets; she must have snapped him out of a deep reverie. “Do yeh now?”
“Don’t sound so fucking skeptical.”
He chuckles and plants another kiss on the crown of her head.
“Why don’t you pack your overnight bag and come over to my house? We can get a takeaway curry and you can spend the night.” Nicola turns and meets his familiar gaze, inquisitive and intense and ultimately devoted to her. Christ, she missed those eyes. And those eyebrows. “It’s a nice place, but I’ll admit I’ve been rather lonesome there, and I thought we could change that just once before I move out.”
He’s free to say no, and Nicola thinks for a second that he might, based on his dubious head-tilt and the way he pauses before answering.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been ‘round that part of London,” he teases, to Nicola’s relief. “Yeh might have to give me directions.”
She swats his chest playfully. “You know exactly where I live. You sent me a fucking Christmas card, which I still have, by the way. I just didn't think you wanted me to respond—"
"It’s alrigh'. I know yeh kept it. The girls told me."
"Of course they did."
She now knows, thinking back on the card hidden in a drawer in her bedroom, that he was sincere in his hope that she was happy. She had hoped he was, too. But they weren’t happy, not with all their unfinished business that could only have been resolved the way they finally did it.
“I hope yeh’ve tidied up those hedges out front.” Malcolm brings her thoughts back to the present. “They were a fuckin’ eyesore last time I saw them.”
Nicola rolls her eyes. He’d been around a handful of times within the past three years to drop off at least one of the kids, but he never once got out of his car to do so. “Why am I not surprised you developed critical opinions about a place you’ve never seen past the front sidewalk when we weren’t even on speaking terms?”
Even less surprisingly, Malcolm is not done. “And the kids said yer kitchen is too fucking small.”
Nicola is not convinced. “Really? They all said that?”
“Not all of them. Jesus, can’t yeh save the pedantry for whatever fuckin’ speech yeh have to write tomorrow?”
She gestures at their surroundings. “It only feels small because we’re all used to this one.”
He turns his head for a cursory glance of admiration. “Fair enough.” Nicola is well aware he loves this damn kitchen and everything in it.
She changes the subject. “How did you even know I have a speech to finish?”
He looks back at her. “Do you?”
Nicola cannot remember the last time she laughed this much in such short succession. No one else has ever amused her as much as Malcolm does, willfully or not. She’d do well to hold onto him this time for that reason alone.
He grabs her hand and leads her out of the kitchen. “Other half, right, love?”
“Always.” She swipes her thumb over his knuckles as they reach the stairs and face each other again.
“So you’ll definitely come home with me?” Shit. Old habits. “I mean, not home, obviously, this is home, I’m just saying—”
“Nic’la.” Malcolm places two gentle fingers over her lips and lowers his voice to a sultry growl. “D’you think I give a fuck which bed I wake up in tomorrow as long as you’re in it with me?”
She smiles against his fingers, and he removes them so he can kiss her again, languorously and enticingly enough that she moans when he pulls away from her. “And on that we can agree,” she nearly purrs.
She hopes he won’t (but guesses he probably will) notice that she’s slightly nervous about getting back into bed with him. They’re not exactly the same, physically or otherwise, as they were before they split. Three years is no harmless stretch of time at their ages. That said, she’s missed him sorely in every possible way, and she secretly looks forward to unveiling the scar on his abdomen from his recent surgery, if only so she can kiss it repeatedly and see how he reacts. He has it coming after years of adoring her stretch marks, which have unfortunately faded a bit since he’s last seen them.
But there’s so much more she’s looking forward to enjoying after they’ve thoroughly enjoyed each other. Falling sound asleep, limbs entangled, her head on his chest or vice versa. The light from her bedroom window warming the sheets and waking them up. Morning breath, cracking joints, pre-caffeine grouchiness.
They’ll soak it all in and bring it all back here with them.
“I should warn you it’ll be a longer commute to your office,” Nicola says as Malcolm turns toward the staircase, still holding her hand.
“I’ve thought of that.”
“Right.” Of course he has.
“At least Richmond Terrace is on the way.”
Nicola slips her hand out of his. “You should come in and re-introduce yourself to the staff. Remind them you’re not a complete bastard, just a partial one.”
Malcolm throws one of his least potent glares over his shoulder. “D’you want me to come to your place or not?”
“Oh, I think you’ve already made up your mind, darling.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically, then notices he’s halfway up the steps and she hasn’t followed him. “Aren’t yeh comin’?”
Nicola crosses her arms authoritatively. “If I follow you up that staircase and into that bedroom, there’s a very strong chance we will never come back down here.”
He grins. “Fucking tease.”
She puts on her most innocent face. “I’m just saying you might have a tough time explaining to your colleagues why you’re out of the office again so soon. They might be concerned about you. Mine would definitely be concerned about me.”
She’s right, but so is he.
“Yer still a fuckin’ tease, pet,” he says, simple affection overriding flirtation.
Nicola’s expression flips from innocent to wicked, a tactic she hadn’t realised she missed using. “I know.”
She knows he’s watching her (most likely staring at her arse) as she heads for the front door and disappears from his sight. She knows he will not be upstairs longer than three minutes. She knows he’s as anxious to get on with their evening, and their restored life together, as she is.
She came back for him, and now she knows he’ll come back for her, no matter what.