21. Chapter 21
C het pulled the towels from the dryer, shaking each one violently.
He should have dealt with them last night, but they were just towels, right?
No harm in letting them sit, he’d thought when he’d tossed them into the dryer last night.
Except now they were a wrinkly mess. He shouldn’t have cared, but he did.
The wrinkles felt like a report card on his ability to single-parent.
It was harder than he’d thought it would be.
It had only been a few days since he’d given Nelie that stupid ultimatum, and since then, everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. Nothing tragic or life altering, but everything was harder.
Ava’s grumpiness was grumpier. Piper’s chatter was never-ending.
He couldn’t push last night’s heavy snow with a shovel, and it had clogged the snow-blower.
He’d had to scoop and toss the dense white mess and had pulled a muscle in his back.
Chet had forgotten to add dishwasher detergent to the grocery list, so he’d washed today’s dishes by hand until Ava had nudged him to the side, telling him she’d finish it.
“I know how. Nelie showed us,” she’d said, clearing the dirty dishes from the sink before rinsing it and filling it with hot soapy water.
Was he wrong to give Nelie an ultimatum? He’d second-guessed his way into a corner and didn’t know which way was up. He missed her. The girls missed her.
She’s probably coming over to break up , he thought, folding the kitchen towel lengthwise in thirds and then in half, the way it was supposed to be done. Heather had always folded them willy-nilly, causing a mess in the drawer.
Chet and Nelie hadn’t been apart long enough for her to miss him and see what she’d be walking away from.
He should have been more patient with her.
And even though he and the girls were a package deal, he shouldn’t have incentivized her by withholding contact with Ava and Piper.
He thought it was love me, love them , but it felt more like love them, tolerate me .
At least the women in his life would have been happy.
And in time, he would have figured out how to live in the same town as her.
To let the girls spend time with her, while his heart slowly bled out.
Future dating was out of the question. Nelie was The One.
The One and only, he thought as headlights appeared in his driveway.
But he needed to stand his ground. If Nelie was in, he needed her to be all in. No more secrets.
Her boots crunched on the sidewalk. Be cool , he told himself. He grabbed another towel and frowned. Yeah, ’cause nothing says cool like folding wrinkled towels . Nelie knocked and waited a few seconds before letting herself in.
Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were rosy, and the cold air hit him from across the room. “Cold enough for ya’?” he asked. Nelie’s lips lifted at the familiar winter greeting.
“It’s the end of March. Anything is possible.
” She draped her coat on the back of a chair and Chet’s stomach clenched.
A person hung their coat when they planned to stay, but draped it when they planned on a quick escape or goodbye.
She grabbed the towel closest to her, and her hand trembled as she smoothed it.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, as a litmus test of the length of her stay.
“Hot chocolate with a kick?” Chet’s stomach muscles eased. A hot drink would take time to make, cool, and drink, and he knew Nelie wouldn’t leave chocolate unfinished. It sounded like she planned to stay.
“Coming right up.” He moved toward the electric kettle.
“Let me,” Nelie said, pulling milk from the refrigerator. Chet brought her the box of cocoa mix as she measured the milk and poured it into a small pan.
“Ah, that’s why yours is always better.” She gave him a smug smile.
Chet leaned against the counter and watched her as she slowly stirred the milk.
When tiny bubbles appeared at the edges, she asked him to open the packets and add them to the milk.
He did, and then he reached around her for the small whisk.
She smelled like fries and the chocolate powder he’d dumped into the pan.
Chet handed her the whisk, and she murmured her thanks.
“I’ll get the RumChata,” he said, needing some space.
She’d only been here for a few minutes, but he felt his resolve crumbling.
Fries, chocolate, and teamwork, a new aphrodisiac , he thought as he opened the bottle.
Nelie poured the hot chocolate into two mugs and Chet added a shot of the creamy, cinnamon-spiced liqueur. “You might want more of that.” Nelie nodded to the RumChata as she leaned against the counter, cradling her mug in her hands.
“You don’t?”
“Not if I’m driving home.” Right, she’s not staying.
“Do you want to talk here or in the living room?”
“Living room, please,” Nelie said. “It’s more comfortable,” Chet nodded and followed.
Surely if she was going to break up, she’d do it quickly in the kitchen, like ripping off a bandage.
And she wouldn’t have wanted a hot beverage, but her exaggerated politeness concerned him.
Not staying but might not be breaking up?
he thought as he sat on the couch next to her.
She tucked her feet underneath her and leaned into his space.
They sat in silence, sipping their drinks, and Chet wondered if he should turn on the lamp.
Her features were soft in the muted light coming from the kitchen and upstairs.
She looked lovely, and he forced himself to sit still.
If he could abandon his stupid principles, he’d have her in his arms in less than five seconds.
Nelie wasn’t Heather. He didn’t think she’d discard them, but he couldn’t risk it.
“So,” Nelie said, setting her drink aside and rubbing her hands down her pants. “I had a lovely speech prepared, but I’ve forgotten it, again.” She frowned and Chet wondered what other speeches she’d forgotten.
“Take your time.”
“First, I love you, and I have for a while.” Chet’s heart soared at her admission, and he covered her smile with his, but he kept the kiss light. He didn’t want Nelie to distract him.
“And second?” he asked. Nelie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and laced her fingers through his.
“I was Nate’s donor. Suzanne Hart Wyatt is my birth mother. I’m not an orphan, and Gus and Stella didn’t take me in. They adopted me a few days after I was born,” she blurted. Her blue eyes bore into his and her lower lip trembled.
Ho-ly shit! No wonder she’s been a mess.
“Jackson is your brother,” he said, needing something easy to say as he processed her words. From the look on her face and her non-Nelie behavior recently, he knew she was still processing, too.
“Half. And Pris is my half-sister.”
“You don’t look like any of them.”
“I’ve been told I take after my birth father, but we share this,” she said, pointing to her eyebrow and lifting it. Chet exhaled swiftly.
“And strong genetics. Enough to save Nathan’s life.” He took her hand in his, marveling at her. “That’s why you missed the spelling bee and canceled your vacation. And why your back was sore,” he said as the puzzle pieces fell into place.
“And why I avoided people and masked up beforehand. I needed to stay healthy.”
“Are you okay with all this?”
Nelie chuckled, but she didn’t sound amused. “Wait, there’s more. Remember? I told you to take a second shot.”
“Too late. I’m not moving. Tell me.” He squeezed her hands.
Chet held tight as she dropped her next piece of news.
He huffed out a breath when she finished telling him about her financial windfall.
“So, in the last month, you discovered a secret family, and you’ve got more zeros in your bank account.
Your world exploded. I can see why you lost your footing.
” And I’m losing mine. She’s a Hart and rich. She doesn’t need me.
“It’s still shaky, and I could use a hand building a bridge.” She gave him a shy smile.
“What do you want?” he asked, pushing through the hope clogging his throat.
“I want you and the girls. And them, if they want me.” She sounded hesitant, and he hoped them referred to the Harts, because by now Nelie had to know how much the girls loved her.
“Why wouldn’t they want you?” His daughters weren’t idiots, and only an idiot wouldn’t want Nelie in their life.
“I don’t think Jackson wants me. He isn’t happy about this.” Nelie winced.
“He’ll come around. He’s had a lot thrown at him, too. I barely knew what day it was when Ava was born. I can’t imagine where his head’s been at with Nate’s illness. You were friends before. You’ll figure it out.” She shrugged, as if she didn’t believe him. “What else?”
“Nothing else. That’s it,” she said. Chet sighed in frustration.
“Nelie, I wasn’t kidding when I said the world is your oyster. And now that you have financial freedom, you sure as hell should want more than us and them. What do you want for yourself?”
“You. I want you. And them. I’m fine with my life.”
“And I want more for you than a life you’re fine with.” Chet stopped to compose himself. If he yelled at her, she wouldn’t hear him. “What’s wrong with a great life?”
Nelie shifted as if the idea of a great life made her uncomfortable. “Where does that leave us?” she asked, avoiding his question. She did that a lot—changing the topic when she was uncomfortable—but he’d pay more attention now that he was on to her.
“If I was smart, I’d say we’re still in a timeout, because I want the best for you,” he quickly added when it looked like she was going to interrupt. “But walking out your door the other day almost killed me, so I won’t be that selfless again.”
“No one likes a martyr or a saint,” Nelie grumbled, and he laughed.
“What do you think we should do?” he asked.
Nelie stared at their joined hands, rubbing her thumb against his.
Chet could almost feel her thinking, and he wished she’d think as fast as she moved.
But Nelie was contemplative. He teased her she was a whirling dervish, but when it came to life outside of the Galley, she was slow and methodical, almost as if she didn’t trust herself.
“I want to be with you while I figure this out.” Hallelujah!
He kissed her forehead. “I promise I’ll dream big and do some more soul-searching.
I’ve already started a few lists. But right now, everything feels new, you know?
Not just being part of the Harts or the financial change, but a mindset one, too. ”
“That you don’t have to be a busy worker bee?” Chet asked, and Nelie took another deep breath as if preparing herself. There’s more? Chet braced himself.
“Gus and Stella didn’t take me in. It was a stupid cover story my mom made up and everyone went along with it.”
“But they adopted you.”
“Yes, but I was also told they took me in.”
“And they loved you,” he said, not following her logic.
“Yes, but I thought I was a burden. No one wants to be a burden.” The pain in her words sliced through him. He pulled her into his arms, and she melted into him.
“Ah, Nelie,” he sighed, as her fingers moved across his chest. He understood where her pain came from, and his heart ached for her.
Believing she was a burden had anchored Nelie, but now the anchor was gone, and she was drifting.
Chet didn’t want him and the girls to be her new anchor.
He wanted to be the arm floaties supporting her as she learned how to swim in her new world.
She cuddled closer to him, like he was her safe place. And he wanted to be that for her. Now and forever. “How many adult decisions have you made because Nelie-the-kid thought she was a burden?” he asked, breaking their comfortable silence.
Her hand stilled. “Probably a crap-ton.” Her voice was heavy with regret.
“Maybe a good place to start would be looking at the decisions you regret the most and figuring out if you can undo them or make them less bothersome?”
“That’s a good idea. Painful but good.” He felt her nod against his chest. “Can I bounce ideas off you?”
“Absolutely, especially if they’re as excellent as your new espresso machine. I’m guessing it’s a result of your newfound zeros?” He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“What was wrong with my old one?” She sounded indignant and Chet didn’t know if she was playing him. They’d made a lot of progress in a short amount of time, and he didn’t want to mess it up with his answer.
“It moaned so loudly it should have been shot and taken out of its misery,” he answered truthfully. She giggled, and he relaxed.
“Well, it was a splurge. How do you feel about travel?”
“Hell, yes. Somewhere warm where you can wear that red bikini for me.”
Nelie kissed her way up his neck and lingered when she met his lips. She hummed, as if she’d found her happy place.
“Can we stay here tonight?” she whispered as her hands slipped under his sweater.
“Absolutely not”—he tightened his arms as she pulled away—“I’ve barely recovered from the last time we spent the night on the couch, and I pulled a muscle in my back this morning shoveling. It’s bed for us.”
“Oh.” Her face creased with worry. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“It could be my dumbest decision ever, but I’ll set my alarm and sneak down to the couch before the girls wake up.”
They filled the night with loving touches and quiet conversations about Nelie’s future dreams and schemes—some realistic and some outlandish.
By the time his alarm clock buzzed, Chet knew they’d started building the bridge to Nelie’s future.
Fingers crossed today goes well , he thought as he crept down the stairs, using his phone for light.
But if Nelie’s meeting was a disaster, they make a new plan. Together.