17. Chapter 17
C het eagerly opened his back door. He loved coming home on Mondays to Nelie and the girls.
Piper was usually at the table where Nelie quizzed her on spelling words while she and Ava made something delicious for dinner.
A meal on the table hadn’t been his intent when he’d concocted this plan almost two months ago.
All he’d wanted was for Nelie to keep the girls safe.
That’s. He’d even rearranged for the house cleaners to come on Mondays so Nelie wouldn’t clean up after them.
But on the second week, she’d taken the girls grocery shopping, and they’d cooked dinner together.
Nelie had said it was fun. Who was he to complain?
She was teaching his daughters a life-skill; they ate a delicious dinner together—usually with leftovers—and he had the pleasure of Nelie’s company.
It was perfect. Nelie was perfect, and he missed her something fierce.
They’d talked and texted, but he hadn’t seen or held her since their lunch at his desk last week. Her staff had the flu, and she was exhausted covering for everyone.
A month ago, he would have felt guilty about the situation, but not now. It no longer felt like Nelie was covering for him on Monday and Thursday afternoons with the girls. Their time together had grown into something more than babysitting.
Chet hoped the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc he’d picked up on his way home went with whatever they’d cooked. Nelie needed a break, and he intended to wait on her hand and foot this evening.
His nose twitched as he walked into the kitchen, but he didn’t smell anything.
The oven light was on, so maybe she’d just put it in there?
His stomach growled at the thought of waiting, but it would give them more time together.
Nelie smiled at him over her shoulder, saying, “Hi.” Chet didn’t like the dark circles under her eyes.
“Hi, yourself, stranger.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her cheek at the last minute. Instead of questioning her sudden shyness—they’d lightly kissed in front of the girls before—he asked where the girls were.
“They just finished—”
“Daddy!” Piper flew into the room and slammed into him.
“Oof,” Chet said, as if a linebacker had tackled him. Ava trailed behind her, rolling her eyes.
“How was school?”
“Good. Nelie had an accident,” Piper said, and his eyes jerked to Nelie’s. She made a sighing-growling noise he would have found amusing coming from anyone else. He hoped it was nothing more than a small fender bender, and that Ava hadn’t conned Nelie into letting her sit up front.
“You weren’t supposed to say anything,” Ava said through gritted teeth.
“We didn’t pinky swear on it.” Piper shrugged and looked up at him. “You should kiss it better. There was lots of blood.” Chet didn’t like the idea of blood, but he’d take blood over a serious car accident any day.
“Way to sell it, kiddo.” He smiled, tugging Piper’s ponytail, and looked at Nelie, who was busy looking everywhere but at him.
“What happened?” he asked, disentangling himself from Piper—she was grippier than an octopus when she wanted to be.
“You know that phrase, no good deed goes unpunished?” She bit her lip, looking unsure and embarrassed.
“Yeah?” He stepped toward her. Nelie held up her blood-soaked, gauze-covered middle finger.
“This is my punishment.” Chet noticed a bandage on an adjacent finger, too.
“Ouch.” He winced and sucked in a breath. “It’s still bleeding. Ava, get the first aid kit,” he said, forcing calm into his voice, but Nelie held Ava back with her good hand. “Do you need stitches?”
“No, just patience. And pressure.” He grabbed a clean kitchen towel and placed it over the gauze.
He’d hold it there until the bleeding stopped and, when it slowed, he’d send Ava for the first aid kit, again.
But this time, he wouldn’t let Nelie stop her.
The cut needed attention. With one hand on the towel and the other behind her back, he gently pulled Nelie to him.
She went easily, erasing Chet’s earlier concern about her lackluster welcome.
“And what was your good deed?” he asked.
“It wasn’t so much a good deed as a lack of attention.
I know better, and this was the universe’s way of once again reminding me to pay attention when I’m handling knives.
” She sounded annoyed and acted edgy and nervous in his arms. Chet’s earlier concern came back tenfold.
Nelie was usually relaxed in his kitchen, like it was her happy place.
But when he opened his mouth, the oven timer beeped, and she pulled away, telling the girls to set the table. “But don’t set one for me.”
“You’re not staying?”
“Something came up at work.” She shrugged, not meeting his eyes.
“But Monday is your day off,” he argued, hoping he didn’t sound desperate. He missed her and he’d looked forward to spending time with her all day. She was the only reason Mondays were good.
“Yeah, well, sometimes life throws a curve ball and you just need to roll with it, you know?” Nelie sounded bitter. The only bitter he thought she knew about was the chocolate-type. What the hell is going on?
“Sure, no problem,” he said, following her to the oven.
With her good hand, she grabbed a thick towel and pulled a sheet pan out of the oven—sliced chicken, onions, and peppers.
“But you’ll have to make it up to me, with interest.” He waggled his brows, hoping for a laugh, but she nudged him to the side, setting the pan on top of the stove.
“There’s grated cheese and flour tortillas in the fridge.
You can heat them up in the microwave,” she said to the pan, grabbing a pepper slice.
Nelie blew on it and popped it into her mouth.
She frowned. Chet didn’t like the defeated look in her eyes.
“You’ll need to grab the salsa at the back of your fridge,” her voice sounded tight and when she looked at him, her eyes were watery. “I forgot the fajita seasoning.”
“Rough day in the kitchen, huh?” He pulled her in for a hug, and after a few breaths she softened against him, but then hardened, as if realizing what she’d done.
“I should get going.” She patted his chest. “I might be a carrier for what’s going around and I don’t want to get you sick.” He wondered if Nelie knew what a terrible liar she was.
“Sure.” What else could he say? He couldn’t hold her captive and force her to tell him what was wrong.
Instead, he kissed her forehead. “Call me later.” Nelie nodded as she pulled on her jacket, but Chet knew in his gut she wouldn’t call.
“And get a decent bandage on that cut,” he called as she walked out the door.
Wow , she couldn’t get out of here fast enough .
He thought they’d reached the point where they could share their concerns and burdens.
But maybe only he’d reached that point. Something was obviously weighing on her, but she wouldn’t share it.
Not even when he’d pressed her. He couldn’t help if she wouldn’t share.
Maybe there’s another way? he thought, eyeing the girls as they grabbed the rest of the dinner items. He could use his investigative skills on his two informants over dinner to get to the bottom of the story. “I’m starved. Let’s eat!”
“H ow are you feeling?” Chet asked Nelie when she finally called him back.
Seventy-two hours later than he’d hoped, and he still didn’t know what was wrong.
Either Nelie was a better actor around the girls, his daughters were clueless—a distinct possibility with their newfound tween-ness—or they’d pinky-sworn to keep whatever was bothering her a secret.
He’d learned nothing from his casual and carefully worded questions on Monday.
Earlier today, Nelie had texted him and told him she’d drop the girls off at the newspaper.
She had, and she’d waited in her car until they were in the building.
By the time Chet extricated himself from Piper’s hug and stepped outside, the only sign of Nelie was her taillights as she’d pulled out of the parking lot.
“Not great. Headache and stomachache,” she said.
“But not stuffy?” he asked, hoping to keep the conversation going. He was concerned about her health, but he really wanted to know where her head and heart were at. Why she wasn’t acting like herself.
“No.” At least she didn’t lie about that. Nelie’s voice sounded normal, but flat. He missed her lightly lilting tone and gentle teasing.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Breakfast, and some crackers mid-afternoon.”
“You should try more.”
“I will.” Awkward silence descended on the call. There was so much he wanted to say to her and ask, but they’d fallen out of rhythm and he didn’t want to risk a misstep.
“Well, I hope you feel better by Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“That’s when you leave for vacation, right?”
“Oh, that. I had to, um, postpone it.”
“What? Why aren’t you going? It sounds like it’s just a cold. Go.” Chet remembered her swimsuit fashion show from a few weeks ago and how excited she’d been. “Is Gus sick?” he asked. Something big needed to have happened for her to cancel her trip.
“It’s a long and boring story. But don’t worry about my dad. He’s his usual old-fart self.”
“I’ve got all night,” Chet coaxed, using his most charming voice.
Nelie laughed, but it sounded strained. “Tempting, but I’m”—she yawned, the worst fake yawn he’d ever heard—“hitting the hay now.”
“If you change your mind, call me.” Chet rubbed his chest. Talking to her shouldn’t hurt.
“I will.” Conversation ground to a halt, but as long as Nelie was on the phone, he wouldn’t say goodbye. “There’s a box of cookies by your back door.”
Chet opened the door, squeezing the phone between his ear and shoulder, saying, “That’s a pretty big box.” He carried it into the kitchen and opened it. “With a lot of cookies. Why did you put a big box with lots of cookies on my doorstep?” And why did you sneak them there?
“They’re for the reception, after the spelling bee.” His hand gripped the phone, needing this nonsense to end, and for Nelie to tell him what the hell was going on.
“You’re too sick to wait five minutes for me to pop out of the office this afternoon and say hi , but you’re not too sick to bake a crap-ton of cookies, is that right?”
“I don’t think, I mean, I won’t make it to the spelling bee,” Nelie said, not answering his question but dropping a pile of shit at his feet.
“You know that now? Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. The girls are counting on you.” I’m counting on you.
“I don’t think I will feel better.” Her voice was quiet, and he heard sniffling, like she was holding back tears. He took a deep breath. Yelling at her wouldn’t help them solve this.
“You’ve been battling this all week. Have you seen a doctor?” he asked gently, and she laughed, sounding a bit unhinged.
“Yes, I’ve seen a doctor, and he told me to lie low and take it easy. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Well, if you can’t make it, you can’t make it. I’ll get the cookies to the school.” Chet knew when he was beaten. He couldn’t argue with a doctor’s orders, and he couldn’t make Nelie tell him what was really bothering her.
Things had been going great between them until they weren’t, and he wanted to know why. Why did she cancel her vacation? Why was she avoiding him? Why couldn’t he make her happy? Why wasn’t he enough?
“Thank you.” Nelie hung up before he could reply.
Chet tossed his phone on the counter. He was confused and mad and tired of feeling this way.
He’d promised himself he’d never let another woman tie him up in knots the way Heather had, but it looked like Nelie also had a copy of the emotional knot book.
He’d thought she was different. Idiot, but at least she’s not cheating on me.
Chet scrubbed a hand over his face the next morning, waiting for his coffee to kick in.
He’d slept like crap last night, replaying his recent interactions with Nelie to see if he’d missed something.
But he hadn’t. And now he needed to break his daughters’ hearts.
“I talked to Nelie last night. She’s not feeling well and won’t be able to make it to the spelling bee. ”
“We know. She told us yesterday when we made the cookies,” Ava said, smearing peanut butter on her banana.
“And I’m heartbroken,” Piper said, sighing dramatically.
“The only thing that might make me feel better and help me remember how to spell all the hard words would be one of Nelie’s cookies.
” Chet lifted his mug to his mouth to hide his smirk.
He had to hand it to Piper. She was the queen of pulling his leg and turning lemons into lemonade.
“We can’t risk that, can we?” Chet asked gravely, handing them each a cookie and taking one for himself.
“She’s not going to Florida, either, and she’ll be better by Monday, so she said we could stick to the usual schedule next week,” Ava said. Chet nodded, breaking his cookie in half and wondering what type of crystal ball her doctor used.
He’d come down here this morning envisioning the worst, but Nelie had smoothed the way.
He appreciated that she’d told the girls, not making him into the bad guy.
Heather had never done that. She never took accountability for her actions and had no issue with throwing Chet under the bus.
Life with Heather had been the Heather Show.
But it wasn’t like that with Nelie. Until recently, the last month had felt like the Us Show . Something was up, though, and it had all started after she’d met with Mrs. Hart.
Nelie hadn’t said if they’d wanted to use the Galley for a community search, so Chet had assumed they’d found a donor. But maybe they haven’t? Jackson hadn’t announced a donor in the group text either. If it was him, Chet would have blasted the news in all caps.
He knew Nelie and Emily were friends, but he didn’t think they were so close that Nelie would become physically ill worrying about her friend. And even if she was, that wouldn’t explain why she was avoiding him. Or canceling her vacation.
Nothing explained her erratic behavior.
Chet rinsed his mug and set in the sink, his heart heavy like it had been when he and Heather had consciously uncoupled.
What a load of crap. It didn’t matter how one sugar-coated it.
Divorce was painful. He felt he should give Nelie the time to wrestle with whatever was bothering her, but was he being na?ve?
Was he kicking the problem down the road?
Was he refusing to see the signs just like he had with Heather?
His gut told him Nelie was different, but his head had a growing list of relationship red flags. Chet didn’t know which organ to trust, but he’d protect his hopeful heart while he gave give her time and space. She’d come to him when she was ready. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too late for them.