Chapter 29Annie
Chapter 29
Annie
NOVEMBER | Balance: $49,382
It was Thanksgiving morning.
With my pie crust chilling in the fridge, I finally settled down to watch the parade on TV. As long as I kept busy, Thanksgiving didn't feel so daunting. It was only when I paused that the ache would creep in.
Some rustling came from the porch, with a clank of metal on metal. It was a holiday, so it shouldn’t have been the mailman. Then my doorbell rang. Nick was on the other side, squinting against the cloudless sky with Greg on a leash at his side.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Annie.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said, looking him over for some sort of explanation. “What are you doing here?”
I crouched to pet Greg. “Hi, little turkey.”
“I came over to make pies with you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Funny, I saw your name next to sweet potato casserole on the group spreadsheet.”
“That too. But I got up early and made that. I thought I could be a pie helper?” He held up a reusable grocery bag and the drink carrier. “Come on, Annie. I drove twenty minutes and brought coffee. Can we share an oven?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Come in,” I said, taking the drink carrier out of his hands. I took in his outfit: a thin forest green sweater that hugged his muscles perfectly and made his eyes stand out. I never thought I’d say khakis or chinos were hot, but he was making them work. “You look nice. I’m still in my bumming around clothes.”
His cheeks went pink. “Thanks. You look good in your bumming around clothes. Can I let Greg off the leash in here?”
“Oh, of course.” He bent to take off Greg’s leash and hooked it on the front door handle. Greg surveyed the room, deciding where to explore first. Nick and I went into the kitchen.
“I, uh, hope it’s a good surprise that I came over?”
I worked to remain in motion, stepping in front of him. “Oh, yeah. It’s great to see you two,” I said, briskly.
I didn’t meet his eyes as I unpacked the items from his bag. He tried to help me, but I was moving so fast that he couldn’t seem to get more than one handful out. There were store-bought pie crusts in there, and for whatever reason, that was the thing that slammed the brakes for me.
Mom would have never let me use store-bought. No matter how crumbly and crappy our pie crusts got, we persevered. It was a point of pride to see how much we could fudge it, trying not to give Uncle Stan a slice of pumpkin pie with a hole in the bottom.
I took a shaky inhale.
“Annie.” Nick’s hand met my arm. I couldn’t say anything. I just nodded, sucking back tears until he pulled me into a hug. He held me so close, so wholeheartedly, barring one arm across my upper back and holding my head to his shoulder with the other.
He didn’t know what it had been like, growing up with a mom who kept getting and kicking cancer . . . until she didn’t. Being a stand-in mom to my siblings, while loving and caring for my mom all the while. He didn’t know, but he held me like I needed to be held. In his arms, I could let go. I could let it hurt. I could ugly cry. I didn’t have to be strong for my siblings. I could just be sad, and he only thought of me. Not what my dad or my brother would think. Not what my little sisters would feel seeing me fall apart. He was the friend I needed right then, and something more than that.
My rock? Too hard. Nick was softer than that. He was more like my old oak tree: dependable, protective, firm, and strong.
Nick knew I needed someone, and he was the someone who volunteered for the job.
The best part? He didn’t say anything. I got so tired of people saying something, which mostly, they had stopped years ago. But even the memory of the stupid things people would say in the name of justifying something unfair could still upset me.
“God called her home.”
“She was too precious for this world.”
“Now she’ll be able to be there for all of you at the same time.”
“Everything happens for a reason.”
Thoughts of those conciliatory words made me cry harder, and Nick stood solid. What was there to say? There was just being. Being there, on Thanksgiving, without her. The parade went on, and the pies would be baked, and she wasn’t there.
His lips met the top of my head and he squeezed me tighter. I pulled away, swiping at my nose. His thumbs stroked over the tears on my cheeks, his eyes searching mine.
“Hi,” I whispered.
“Hi, angel.”
My lips curled up at the pet name. “I’m feeling a little needy.”
He got a big smile and blushed, his long, dark lashes standing out. “Oh yeah? What are you needy for, Annabelle?” His head dipped, hovering his lips in front of mine.
“You know,” I pouted.
His finger lifted my chin. “Something like this?” His lips brushed mine, soft as a feather. I hated that my stomach jumped at the touch. Traitorous stomach. Nick and I couldn’t be a thing. And there he was, acting like we were a thing.
And still, I deepened the kiss, taking what I needed from him. Greedy. Selfish. Stupid.
We broke apart at Greg barking at something out the front window. Nick yelled after him, then turned back to me. “Sorry. He has all new stuff to bark at here.”
I gave him a smile and stepped back to the kitchen counter, getting out the ingredients to make another pie crust.
“What are you making?”
“Another pie crust, assuming that’s what those apples are for,” I said.
“I bought frozen crusts,” he said.
I laughed. “Mom would never approve of that. We’re doing this at my house, so we’re doing it my way.”
Nick wrapped his arms around me from behind where I stood at the counter, jostling me from side to side. “Yes, miss.”
“There’s an apron hanging beside the fridge. I don’t want you to get your fancy clothes dirty.”
I showed him how to fold the shortening into the flour since we needed to make two crusts for an apple pie. His long fingers were clumsy with the dough, but it was fun to watch. He eyed me while I worked my own dough ball.
“So, Nick, what are you doing here?”
He bumped me with his hip. “Making pie.”
I planted him with a look. “You know what I mean. This is kinda couple-y.”
“No, it’s friendly,” he said. “You’re my friend, and you told me you’d be sad today. I didn’t want you to be alone when I could be here with you.” He flipped his dough over, still struggling to get all the flour worked in. “Plus, I haven’t seen you all week. I missed you. We’ve gotta keep up the friend end of friends with benefits.”
I chewed my lip, taking that in. “It’s really nice of you.”
“I’m a good friend,” he said with a cocky smirk.
I smacked his stomach. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Ober.”
He weaseled a kiss into my neck and stopped to whisper in my ear, “Someday soon you’re going to be full of me.”
I wrapped my dough ball in plastic wrap and stuck it in the fridge. “That door’s open whenever, bub. I'm just waiting on you to be ready."
"I need to get better at some of my other skills before I level up," he said, tearing off his own strip of plastic wrap.
“Your choice. We go at your pace,” I shrugged. “Here.”
I moved over to work his dough ball a little more. “You need more ice water.”
“More ice water. Yeah. Huh.” He hovered behind me, laying his hands over mine. “This feels familiar. Your hands guiding mine.”
I glared over my shoulder at him. “Nick Oberbeck, did you come over here to be a friend or to get the benefits?”
I wrapped his dough ball and opened the refrigerator, Nick peering in behind me. “Jesus, Markham, do you have stock in Diet Coke?”
“Why, you want one?” I teased.
“No, it’s poison! It’s frying your brain! You know, studies have shown—"
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I said.
“Annie, it’s bad for you,” he whined. “I want you to live a long life and not—”
“My house, my rules, Oberbeck.”
He huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m going to start stocking my fridge with something you’ll like better.”
I hit him with a sharp look. “Planning on having a house guest? Why would you stock your fridge for me?”
My phone started buzzing on the counter. I dusted my hands on his apron and answered it.
“Hey, Kitty!”
“Annie, thank God,” Kitty rushed out. “I’ve been texting you! The hell are you doing? I need help!”
“I’ve been baking. What’s wrong?”
Greg barked in the background. I made big eyes at Nick to get him to go shut him up.
“Is someone there with you? Whose dog is that?” Kitty asked.
“No, just the neighbor. Big dog.”
“Are you getting laid, Annabelle Markham?”
“No! I’m shooting cobwebs out of there at this point,” I lied. “What’s your disaster?”
“Guy and I put the turkey in what we thought was on time, but it’s already done. What are we supposed to do?”
“This is the emergency?”
“It’s my first time hosting Thanksgiving for all these people! I’m nervous. You’re always smart at stuff like this.”
“I’ll google it, but I think it needs to rest anyway. Just put foil over it.”
“What do you mean, it needs to rest? I need to rest!” Kitty whined. “Guy told me to put it back in the oven. It’s gonna be like the turkey in Christmas Vacation. Even a dog won’t eat it.”
“It’ll be fine. Just take it out and foil it. You can leave it like that till right before we eat.”
“Thanks. How are you holding up today?” Kitty asked. “I feel bad that I can’t be there.”
“It’s fine. I’m doing okay. About as normal.”
“Hang on. Guy-Guy, can you finish the rest of the dishes without me? I wanna go see Annie.”
I heard Guy fumbling around in the background, trying to figure out if he could confidently do everything himself. “It’s fine, Kitty. I’ll just be finishing my pies and getting ready. I’ll see you in like three hours anyway.”
“Are you sure? I don’t like it. I know how important the pies are, Annie.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright. Love you, friend. Big hugs waiting when you get here. Ooh! Why don’t you make Nick pick you up so you can have a little too much wine? Or you can stay over? Your room’s still open!”
“Nick’s my client, not my designated driver, Kitty.”
“Your client whose face you’ve sat on.”
“Goodbye, love you!” I called, bringing the phone away from my ear and hanging up on her.
Nick stood in the doorway with an awkward grin. “I’d drive you.”
I threw my hand. “I can’t drink too much. I’ll have to call my family later. Let’s get cracking on these pies. I’m running out of time to get ready.”
Nick and I were playful in the kitchen. He was surprisingly good at some things, like peeling apples, and terrible at things like spice measurements. I showed him how to scallop the edges of the crust to make it look fancy.
“And here, check this out.” I took a spare edge of crust, sprinkled some sugar on the counter, and rubbed the uncooked crust in the sugar. I held it to his lips. “Taste.”
“What? I can’t eat raw dough,” he protested.
“There’s no egg. Live a little.”
He scrunched his nose, closing his eyes and extending his tongue the tiniest bit. I cackled as I put the sugared dough on his tongue, watching his reaction. “Okay, yeah, that’s good.”
“Would I lead you astray, Oberbeck? I always have your best interest in mind.”
We goofed off, flirting and having fun. When I bent to put the last pie in the oven, Nick stood behind me.
“How ‘bout a little sugar, sugar mama?” His hand trailed down my front.
“I need to shower and get ready,” I said. “I stink.”
He took a big inhale at my neck. “Smell good to me.”
“Stop,” I teased. “I’m absolutely rotten. And I don’t have much time.”
“Too bad,” he said. “I wanted to have a friendly little taste.”
“You’re ready for that, are you? It’s not exactly time-friendly.”
“I like a challenge,” Nick cooed.
“Next time,” I said.
“Alright. Go clean yourself up. I’ll take care of the kitchen.” I lingered and he swatted my butt. “Go.”
After stepping out of the shower, I sauntered into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Nick had taken care of all the dishes, and the counters gleamed with a spotless sheen.
When I returned to my bedroom, Nick stood at my bed, picking up the underwear I’d laid out with the rest of my outfit.
I grinned at him. “What are you doing with those?”
“Um, what? What are you talking about?” Nick’s cheeks were red, his smile maniacal.
“Nick, those are the only underwear that work with that skirt.”
He mumbled something through tight lips.
“What was that?” I asked.
His voice was tiny. “Maybe it’s hot for me to think of you not wearing any?”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “Is this one of your fantasies?”
“Yeah. No. Maybe. I don’t know. I just like knowing that you’re . . . ya know . . . bare. Um.” He folded his hands over his crotch.
I let a beat pass between us, making him sweat a little. “Does this mean you’re in control tonight?”
His voice came out with a squeak. “Sure.”
“Alright, panty thief. Go sit on the couch. I need to get ready.”
“Yep. Sounds good.” He left, tucking the panties into his pocket. Before he was out of sight, he lowered his voice. “Good girl, Annie.”
Twenty minutes later, Nick and Greg were on my couch watching the dog show, Nick narrating stuff about the dogs to Greg. Frankly, the cutest shit I’d ever seen. I checked my reflection in the mirror over the mantel, putting in an earring. I caught Nick’s eyes in the mirror, his prior unabashed horniness having calmed. My anxiety around Thanksgiving was starting to resurface. I almost wished I hadn’t told Nick about missing my mom, and that Kitty didn’t know, and I could just sulk alone at home. But Nick’s voice broke my spiral.
“Wow. You look really pretty, Annie.”
“So do you,” I grinned back, running a pinky over the edge of my lips to tidy my lip gloss.
“Let me drive you? Doesn’t make sense for both of us to drive.”
I chewed my lip. “I don’t want anyone being suspicious.”
“Suspicious of what? We just baked pies.”
“They don’t know you were here. We have to keep it that way. I can’t—”
“Lose this job. I know. They’re our friends, Annie. They’re not going to tattle if they think we’re fucking around on the side.”
“We are fucking around on the side, Nick. It’s not a lie. Saying we’re not is a lie.”
I hated how whiny that sentence came out of my mouth, my voice catching at the end.
I didn’t expect to get emotional, but there I was. Because the truth was, I wished we could do more than what we were doing. I only let myself feel it when I was in his arms. I didn’t let myself feel it alone, because then it would be real. In his arms, I could pretend it was make-believe again, like we had over the summer.
As my lower lip wobbled, Nick stood, carrying Greg with him. He lifted Greg’s paws and made a little voice. “Don’t cry, Mommy. We can drive separately.”
I took Greg from Nick with a watery laugh, nuzzling into his little doggy neck. Nick made a show of looking at the top of my hair like something was wrong with it, then reached behind my ear . . .
And pulled out a quarter.
I guffawed. “Did you just do a magic trick to make me stop crying?”
Nick watched me with bright eyes, the mischief in the jade color popping. “Did it work?”
“Yeah, it worked.”
Nick pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead, then the tip of my nose. “Let’s get these pies and go.”