20. Willa
Just when I thought everything in life was looking up, this past week a perfect mix of days spent getting stuff done at work and spending most nights with Nate, my mom called to tell me she’d gotten a phone call from the bank in charge of my auto loan. Evidently, Eric had informed them he no longer owned the vehicle and they needed to transfer the loan to my mom.
My immediate anger remained at a violet boil, the rocking lid one wrong move from flying off completely. He’d promised me that after all the time I’d poured into his business, and if I allowed him to keep the house, he’d pay off my car. Which I’d told him was going to be my mom’s from now on.
“It’s okay,” Mom had said, “I never should’ve accepted the gift in the first place.”
“Mom, you need the car to get around town and make it to your follow-up appointments, as well as physical therapy. It does no good to pay that much for your hip surgery and suffer through the pain and recovery, only to mess it up again. Especially since he promised he’d pay for the fucking car.”
Mom tsked her disapproval. “Language, Willa.”
Yeah, because that was the problem, not my asshole, son-of-a-bitch, no-good cheating ex. Upon first discovering his infidelity, he promised we’d split assets equally, but with each passing week, greed overtook his repentant side. The last few texts we’d exchanged became heated as he demanded more and more of our combined assets, leading me to believe he
was still mad at me for daring to leave Sugar Creek. Not because he loved me so much and wanted to make things work, like he’d originally claimed either. Nope, it was the realization that having to hire three different people to do what I used to in the name of running a business together was going to take a serious bite out of his profit margin.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get everything ironed out.” She was so used to making do or going without, and after everything she’d done, the car had been my attempt to pay her back for all her sacrifices through the years.
If Eric wanted to fight, he’d find the woman who’d left Sugar River, sad and dejected, had been placed with a version that was confident and happy to be rid of him. I’d poured as much time, money, and effort into running his dental practice as he had, and if he thought I’d cave, he had another thing coming. While he’d done a real number on me when it came to chipping away at my worth, I knew better now. I was stronger. And if he wanted to throw down, I’d gladly kick his ass in court.
I’d barely ended the call when my car’s engine started making an awful noise. As though I was grinding gears and not very good with the clutch, but the vehicle didn’t have one of those.
“Seriously? Et tu, Brute?” The Oldsmobile was both a brute and a beater. I’d found a deal on a used studio-in-a-box kit, with an almost new midi keyboard that’d allow me to do some of my composing at home. As it’d be difficult—i.e., next-to-impossible—for me to balance that, a couple speakers, a microphone, and an audio interface on a bicycle, I’d elected to drive.
The fact that the car was on its last leg, or wheel or whatever, wasn’t news. I was still surprised it’d gotten me to Boston in the first place, and it factored heavily into why I’d been riding bikes as often as possible. I’d just hoped I could make it to winter before I needed new tires, if not an entirely new vehicle.
No matter what I did, the engine would rev but not accelerate, and my dashboard started flashing with a myriad of colorful, various-shaped warnings, and then that was it. My car had died in the middle of the street with a loud cough of smoke that continued to roil. In a mad rush to leave me behind, the vehicle to my right had accelerated around me, only to slam into the car turning left onto the street we occupied. Ever since, the guy behind me had been laying on the horn, as though I wanted to be blocking the street.
Unsure what to do, I called Nate for advice, and my heart skipped a couple of beats when I saw him heading my way. My knight in shining Armani—or whatever designer had made the suit that hugged his frame so well.
Since I’d been all of three blocks from the duplex when it happened and he’d actually been home already, it appeared he’d decided to hoof it. Something I’d do with my studio-in-a-box kit if I wasn’t too responsible to leave my car behind for others to deal with.
Cops had been called and would likely arrive soon, but I’d wanted my lawyer present. For reasons that had nothing to do with legal representation.
I winced as the man behind me renewed his obsession with beeping his horn. Nate stepped behind the dude’s car, strolled along the driver’s side, and instead of finishing the walk to me, paused to knock on the window.
With a giant scowl marring his jowled face, the man who emanated self-importance rolled the window down a crack. “What do you?—?”
“If you don’t stop honking your fucking horn, I’ll shove the steering wheel so far up your ass that you’ll have to turn it one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees just to shit.” Nate didn’t wait for his response to his growled threat, simply turning his full attention to me and striding in my direction.
The honking stopped, though.
My heart picked up its pace as quickly as I rushed toward Nate. I crashed into him, arms going around his neck in a hug. “Thank you for coming.”
“No problem,” he said, which was good because I had plenty of other problems. “Now, what happened?”
As I explained the noise and my vehicle’s reaction, Nate climbed into the driver’s side and under any other circumstances, I would’ve laughed at how odd he looked behind the wheel of the Oldsmobile.
“Sounds like a blown transmission. If that’s the case, they might just declare this beast DOA.” While I was fairly certain Nate was addressing me, he lifted his phone to his ear at the tail end of his statement. After a second or two, he rattled off the cross streets, gave a few more short replies, and then told me someone would arrive to tow my car shortly.
Then he checked on the other drivers. From there, it was a blur of insurance information and answering questions and the cops, ensuring my new purchases would be safe, and tow trucks clearing the road.
Once we were finally done, Nate and I walked toward the duplex, hand in hand.
“Thanks again. I was totally overwhelmed and not sure what to do. Let me make it up to you and buy us dinner. What sounds good?”
Nate nudged me toward his front door. “You’ve had a rough day. I’ll buy dinner.”
“But then I’ll owe you double.” I dug in my heels, preventing him from guiding me inside his portion of the duplex, and he spun around, so quickly I might’ve fallen backward if not for the arm he snaked around my waist.
“If you think I’m going to give in, you’re severely mistaken. Now, please get your fine ass inside my house, Willa.”
“Okay, but?—”
He growled. Literally growled. “Look, it’s been a long day, and I don’t have the energy to argue with you on this.”
I would suggest he just give in, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was so damn obstinate sometimes. It’d worked out in my favor plenty, like when he was determined to boost my pleasure and my own power over it. Or how whenever I made comments that didn’t cast myself in the best light and hinted at my insecurities, he stopped them in their tracks instead of letting them slide. It was so much easier to remain confident and love myself as I was without someone constantly picking at me.
It was just also easier to feel like I occasionally won when I was naked and needy, no objective besides feel and enjoy.
Then again, if I ever did win an argument with the illustrious Nathan Fox, Esquire, there wouldn’t be room enough for both our egos to occupy the same space. I placed my hand on his chest, soothing his inner beast. “If giving on this point is how I can thank you, I’m happy to do it. But Van Gogh needs fed.”
“Bring the furball over then.”
“Um cats are pretty notorious for not being open to change.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “We could eat at my place.”
Nate gathered my face in his large hands and slanted his mouth across mine in the gentlest kiss we’d ever shared. “I have stacks of legal briefs that I’m going to have to skim through while we eat. The truth is, I might never find my way to the end of the work tunnel again. I should probably say goodnight right now because I’ll likely be bad company. But I’m a selfish bastard who wants you next to me anyway.”
When he put it that way, who cared about the nitty gritty?
“Well, then next to you is where I’ll be.” I tipped onto my toes and kissed his lips. “Just let me take care of the other demanding dude in my life and change into something more comfortable.” I waggled my eyebrows, even though I meant my pajamas. Not even sexy ones. Just a cotton tank-top and shorts, and I couldn’t care less if they matched. After wearing high heels all week—and especially after standing in the middle of the street in them, which kind of made me sound like I had a different type of profession—the desire to declare I was never wearing them again was strong.
While I took care of my kitty and changed, Nate ordered the food. By the time we’d settled into his couch and I’d seen the leaning tower of legal briefs for myself, I understood why he was overwhelmed.
“Don’t you have paralegals or assistants who can help you sort through all that? It makes War and Peace look like a novella.”
Nate went to scoop up his food and missed the first time, his gaze still on the file in his other hand. “I don’t trust them not to miss something.”
I lowered the box of Lo Mein to my lap, the cardboard at the bottom warm against my skin. “Wait. Are you telling me you have control issues?” I threw my hand to my chest in an imitation of shock.
The corner of his mouth quirked up, my attempt to cheer him up landing close.
I poked my finger in the groove of his cheek. “Come on. You want to smile. Don’t pretend I’m not hilarious.”
He attempted a stern glance in my direction but lost the battle to withhold his full smile. It hit dead center in my chest, radiating joy, along with a swirl of victory that I probably shouldn’t need but totally did. I bounced in my seat and placed a smacking kiss on his cheek that made him laugh.
“By the way, I forgot to tell you that before that whole shitshow with the car, I had a surprise visitor come to my office this morning. Your mom. That’s not a punchline to a joke or anything.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Rashida brought her by so we could officially meet in person. We chatted a bit, and then your mom asked if you were taking good care of me.” I tucked up a leg so I could more fully face him. “I almost told her that you’ve taken extremely good care of me, very thoroughly and in every possible way, but I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without blushing and giving us away. Especially since she seemed extra invested in how well you and I were getting to know each other.”
Nate sighed and shook his head. “She’s such a meddler. Honestly, I’m surprised it took her this long to start sniffing around.”
“She also invited me to tag along with her and Rashida on Sunday when they attend an art exhibition by an up-and-coming artist.”
“Of course she did.” Was that a hint of irritation? I thought the story was amusing, but now I worried I might be accidentally scaring him off by getting to know his mother better. We hadn’t discussed any change to our arrangement, but this past week, it felt like strings were forming, tethering us to one another. He’d demanded all my orgasms belong to him and had gone above and beyond helping me with my broken-down car situation. Even casually hanging at his place while he worked and I messed around on my phone seemed more relationship-y than fuck buddy territory.
“Is that not okay? I’ve missed attending those types of cultural events since they never had anything like that in Sugar River. But if it’ll bother you for me to spend time with your mom, I can cancel.”
Nate slowly lowered the file in his hands and looked at me, his eyebrows drawing together as he studied my face. Did I try to show apathy? Or did I show my sincere emotions that’d give away that I cared, not just about the event, but about him? He cupped my cheek and cast me a soft smile. “I’m just bitter that my mom stole my date. She texted me today to remind me I’d promised to be there, and I was going to ask if you’d go with me. Now I’m going to have to thumb wrestle my mom for the opportunity to have you on my arm.”
My heart grew butterfly wings and fluttered wildly in my chest. “No need for violence against a body part I might later need.” I turned my head, kissing his thumb and then snagging it between my teeth in a light bite. “Besides, there’s plenty of me to go around.”
Nate dropped his forehead to mine. A moment of shared breaths passed and then he planted his mouth against mine. “When it comes to you, Willa Trainor, I’m finding I never quite get enough.”