Chapter 18 – cat #2
I roll my eyes and walk inside. Nate’s cleared off his desk, except for the darkened computer monitors, which he’s pushed to the side. An empty chair waits in the space across from his desk chair, clearly meant for me to sit in.
Instead of an open take-out container like I expected, I find a paper plate with two slices of pepperoni pizza and a side of Caesar salad already doled out.
Nate doesn’t know it, but this is exactly what I needed.
Not only does the food look mouth-wateringly good, I don’t even have to decide how many slices I want.
I slide into my chair, grabbing for a slice of pizza before Nate’s even had a chance to sit down himself. I close my eyes, moaning as the melted cheese hits my tastebuds. I guess I was hungrier than I thought.
“Thank you.” I shoot him a contrite smile. “It’s delicious.”
“Good.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “You can’t let this happen again, Cat. You need to take better care of yourself. You need rest. I’ll cut back on your responsibilities, if that’ll help. I can get Susie to take charge of my travel.”
“No!” My voice is way too loud, and he tilts his head, looking curiously at me. “I mean, it’s fine. I can handle it.”
“It’s too much, Cat. You’re not taking proper care of yourself, and that means something has to change.”
“Maybe,” I hedge. “But you don’t have to offload my work. I like this job. A lot more than I thought I would, if I’m being honest.”
“You really find managing my calendar that fascinating?” he deadpans.
I shake my head. “It’s not that. I just…
I never imagined myself in an office job.
I only finished a year of college, and I figured I didn’t have the background to do a job like this.
Like it’d be too complicated, or more details than I could handle.
But I surprised myself. It was easy for me to keep up.
Not to brag, but I think I’m a pretty good assistant. ”
“You’re excellent.” His eyes bore into mine, and I duck my head, blushing at the compliment. He really doesn’t look at me how a boss should look at his assistant. Nate Walsh looks at me like I’m a problem he wants to keep.
And when he praises me, it hits even harder. I know he doesn’t hand out accolades to just anyone.
He praises me because he really sees me. I could get addicted to that feeling—and that makes it dangerous.
“The work’s not that hard,” I tell him. “Anyone could do it.”
“That’s not true. Do you have any idea how many assistants I’ve fired? It’s not easy to find someone who can keep up with the fast pace here.”
I snort. “They think this is fast-paced? They should try manning eight tables on date night. This is nothing.”
“If it was nothing, then you wouldn’t be too exhausted to pick your own pizza toppings.” He fixes me with a penetrating stare. “I’m taking some duties off your plate, whether you want it or not.”
I sigh. “Don’t. The amount of work is reasonable. The schedule I stayed late to work on doesn’t even need to be finished for another month. I’ve been overscheduling myself on purpose. There’s some stuff on my mind I wanted to be distracted from.”
“Like what?”
You.
Your hands under my panties.
Your lips on my neck.
Obviously, I can’t just tell him that. So I hedge a little.
“My mom has been hounding me about coming home for Thanksgiving. I don’t want to leave her by herself, but I really don’t want to go.”
“Why not?” His gray eyes are curious.
I don’t tell a lot of people about my dad.
People can be weirdly judgmental about addiction, even though it’s a sickness.
Just like cancer, nobody chooses to get it.
I don’t want to hear someone blame Dad for what happened—it’s not like there’s a pill he could take that would have made everything better.
For some reason, I can’t imagine Nate doing that.
“Mom and I never had a great relationship,” I say slowly.
“She was used to being in control–of her job, of her husband, of her house. The only thing she wasn’t able to control was me.
She wanted the best for me. For me to go to the right school, get the right job, have the right friends.
But our definitions of ‘right’ never matched up. ”
Nate holds my gaze, not interrupting. He’s patient that way. I find myself telling a story I haven’t thought about in a long time.
“I can still remember Mom’s face when I told her I wanted to invite all the kids in my class to my first-grade birthday party.
I didn’t want anyone feeling left out. I pictured everyone going to the park, having a picnic, and running around playing tag.
She wanted me to invite the popular girls for manicures and makeovers.
Everything was a battle between us. So when I was seventeen, I moved out.
Saved up my money from waitressing at a diner and got my own place. ”
“You were so young.” Nate reaches forward, and for a second I think he’s going to take my hand. Instead, he grabs a napkin from the side of the table, and I swallow my disappointment.
“I was young, but I was stubborn back then.”
“Back then?” he challenges, his lips twitching into almost a smile.
“Fine, I was always stubborn.” I take a breath, bracing for the part of the story I hate remembering most. “But after I left, Mom put all the blame on Dad. He always had a problem with drinking, and she blamed that—even though he tried not to drink around me. She left a week after and served him with divorce papers.”
I don’t even realize I’ve been nervously fiddling with my napkin until Nate reaches for me. This time, he really does take my hand, rubbing his thumb over my wrist gently. Encouraging me to keep going.
“With Mom and me both gone, Dad got worse. He was fired when his boss found him drinking vodka on the job. At least, that’s what he told me.
He might have already moved onto heroin by then.
” My chest tightens. Even now, it surprises me how much it all still hurts.
“Things got worse after that. I didn’t know he was behind on the mortgage until he lost the house. I was focused on my own life then.”
Nate squeezes my hand reassuringly. I shoot him a grateful smile, but it’s strained. My whole body feels heavy, bogged down by all the memories.
“Even when he was sleeping on the street, the only thing he really cared about was getting his next fix. Mom called the cops on him when he broke into her house. He was trying to steal something he could hawk, but he ran after she called them. I wasn’t sure if I’d see him again—but the next night, he broke into my house while I was sleeping.
I heard him rummaging around, and I came out and found him unplugging my laptop. ”
Nate swears under his breath. “You must have been terrified.”
“I was, when I thought it was a burglar. When I saw it was just Dad, I was just angry and so…so fucking sad. I worked so many hours to buy that laptop. He said he was just borrowing it, that he’d pay me back, but I knew better.”
“I didn’t know much about addiction then. The only thing I could think of to do was to show him some tough love. So I called him out on it. The needles, the track marks, the stuff he hawked to pay for drugs. His own damn wedding ring.” I swallow. “I said awful things. I told him—”
If you’re gonna be this weak and stupid, you deserve to die out on the streets.
I remember every word. They bounce around my brain, tormenting me. The worst thing I’ve ever said, repeated over and over until it almost breaks me. Even with Nate’s soft gaze and reassuring hand, I can’t repeat that outloud. It feels like a curse.
“I thought it was the only way to help him. I thought that if I was cruel, maybe it would shock him out of his haze. Then he disappeared,” I whisper.
“I don’t know what happened to him. Nobody knew where he went—if he was even still alive.
I was wrong about tough love. I think what he really needed was kindness and understanding.
For one person to remind him how worthy he was of living a good, happy life. ”
“You did the best you could, Kitten.” His eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them. “Maybe there never was a better way to help him.”
“Maybe. It just hurts so much sometimes.”
Suddenly, I remember what Susie said earlier.
I worked under his father, before he passed.
The blood drains from my face. Here I am going on about grieving my father when Nate actually lost his. At least Dad could still be alive out there, when Nate’s situation is permanent.
“Oh Nate, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be complaining, not when your dad is…”
I trail off. Saying the word “dead” just feels too final.
“It’s okay,” Nate says. “Having a parent leave you like that is probably just as painful, even if it’s a different way. Anyway, my Dad was no saint. Not at all like he looked in the media and to his business partners. He was a whole other person—”
He clears his throat and glances away, and I can tell he’s done talking about this.
I have a thousand questions I want to ask.
What exactly did his father do? How does Nate feel about it?
Does his grief hit him sometimes in the middle of the day, surprising him with how intense it is—the way I grieve my own Dad, even though he’s still alive?
But I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by prying. He’s already opened up to me so much more than he ever has. I caught a glimpse of the Nate behind his grumpy exterior, and I’m already craving more. I’m not going to get that if I push too hard, before he’s ready.
“I could go for some dessert,” he says. “Should I order something, or do you want me to get some cookies from the break room?”
I—don’t know. My mind goes blank. It’s the same stupid decision paralysis I got when he asked what I wanted for dinner in the first place.
Do I want a cookie? Am I already too full? What kind did they even have in the break room, today? If he got me one could I even finish it? I don’t want to waste it.
Say something.
Say something.
“Um, I’m…”
His eyes narrow with concern. He must think I’m having a stroke or something.
“No. I’m fine,” I blurt.
He cocks his head, studying my expression.
“I just…look, it’s hard to explain. But I’ve basically got three jobs, and I’m constantly having to make all these choices.
Little things, like when to give a table a check, or whether to put a call through to you.
It all adds up and I get overwhelmed and I just can’t make any more decisions. Does that make any sense?”
He nods. “It does.”
“But it never happens to you.”
Nate chuckles. “No, it doesn’t. But I’m starting to get that your mind is busier than mine.”
His voice is warm and teasing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.
At ease and unguarded. Some people clam up when you admit your weaknesses to them, like they’re scared that you’ll expect them to take care of you.
Nate’s the opposite. The more I let him into my head, the more open he seems to reciprocate.
Well, I might as well give him full access to it.
“It’s like a whirlwind up there.” I point at my forehead.
“At work, I’m fine. It’s just making my own decisions that seems to be affected.
Sometimes it takes me an hour just to pick a book I want to read before bed.
” I laugh nervously. “And some mornings I feel overwhelmed just picking out an outfit.”
“Really?”
“Yesterday, I actually called Pippa to pick out my clothes for me,” I admit. “I know, it’s pathetic.”
“No, it’s not.” He leans forward, his forearms crossed on the desk. “I have a stylist who picks out my outfits for me. She even organized my closet so my shirts and ties are already paired.”
I sigh dreamily. “That sounds amazing. Just having someone take choices off your plate for you. Seriously, I wish someone would just tell me what to do for once.”
Nate’s eyes flash with surprise. “You don’t mean that.”
I blink at him, my smile draining from my face. He seems almost angry at me, and I have no idea why. Out of all the things I told him, that’s the one that freaks him out?
“Yes. I do,” I whisper.
He pushes back abruptly from the desk, standing so he looms over me. I gawk up at him, surprised by the sudden movement.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he mutters.
He turns away from me, giving me a view of how his white shirt hugs his back muscles.
My fingers itch to run my fingers across his shoulders, to feel the contours of his body.
God, I remember too well how good it felt to have him pressed against me at the hotel window.
I crave the way his every touch made my mind go blissfully blank.
As much as I want to go to him, I stay in my seat, my legs pressed tightly together.
I don’t know what’s got him so riled, but I have a feeling I’m about to find out.