Chapter 10 #3
Nell smiled at her across the counter. “You can help by having a seat and keeping me company while I finish up. I’m almost done. No sense in getting those hands dirty.”
“Fine, but remember I offered.”
“Duly noted,” Nell said, as she added the last of the seasoning to the turkey in the roasting pan in front of her. “How are things going for Wren? If she’s with Beth and Jamie for the weekend, I assume her parents aren’t putting up too much of a fight against the emancipation proceedings?”
Sarah hesitated, quickly glancing away. That was odd. Sarah, like herself, wasn’t one for hesitation. She looked up from the turkey, keeping silent as she waited.
Sarah flashed a small apologetic smile, tactfully changing the topic. Okay, mental note made. She would circle back to Sarah’s avoidance at a later time. But for now, she’d let Sarah steer the conversation.
“So, upstairs, I couldn’t help but notice there’s only one room with a closed door. What’s behind it?”
Nell arched a brow, knowing exactly which door she meant.
“That’s the game room,” she said, leaving it at that.
“Game room?”
“Yes. Game room.”
“And why is the door closed?”
Nell smirked, pausing her movements. “Because I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”
The blush that rose on Sarah’s cheeks was slow and satisfying, like a prize only for her. She had always been one to enjoy her prizes.
“Now, are you done avoiding my first question?” Nell replied, returning to her prep like she hadn’t a second ago short-circuited them both.
“I wasn’t avoiding the question. There isn’t anything to mention, besides that a court date has been set and Wren’s parents have agreed to proceed.”
“Didn’t you tell me last week how resistant they were? What changed?”
Sarah’s fingers tapped nervously against the counter. “I paid them.”
Nell blinked. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “You what?”
“I paid them,” she said again.
“I understood what you said,” Nell stated sharply. “I don’t understand why.”
“Because Wren’s parents only cared about the money she was providing to the family.
They don’t care about her, and Wren deserves better than that.
So I talked to them in a language they understood,” Sarah said flatly, not meeting her eyes.
“Two years’ worth of Wren’s projected earnings.
And in exchange, they agreed to make the emancipation process as smooth as possible for her. ”
Sarah glanced out the window before looking back at her. “And I hate that. I hate that it worked. I hate that it was effective. And I especially hate that two people cared more about money than their child.”
Nell moved to reach out to Sarah, but before she could, she realized that her hands were still covered in turkey bits and seasoning, resulting in a disjointed flap of her elbow.
“You did what you had to do to protect Wren. You’re the only person in that girl’s life to think of her first.”
“I know,” Sarah said, her voice catching slightly. “But it still feels gross. I’m not the type of person who pays people off to get her way. So, what does that say about me?”
“It says that you know how to move through a broken system.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I kind of hate that, too.”
A clattering cut the tension as Nate entered through the back door off the kitchen, flushed from his run, hoodie damp with sweat, earbuds tangled in one hand.
“Well, look at this domestic bliss,” he said, raising his hand in a slight wave. “Sarah, it’s good to see you again. Did Nell warn you yet about our little tradition?”
“Warn me? About what?”
“Oh,” Nate said, grinning as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just that there’s a ticking clock until I have to place our annual backup sushi order.”
“Backup sushi? Nell promised me a full Thanksgiving spread if I flew all the way out here . . .” Sarah looked at her, eyes sparkling in delight.
Nell rolled her eyes as Nate continued. “You haven’t heard the legend? Nell has never successfully cooked a turkey. Not once. Twenty years of elegant side dishes that are to die for, and poultry that looks like a crime scene.”
“That only happened once. The other times were unfortunate miscalculations that resulted in various levels of char,” she said, glaring at him. “And for God’s sake, Nate, it didn’t look like a crime scene. It was—”
“Collapsed like a Jenga tower.” Nate shuddered. “I still have nightmares.”
Sarah snorted. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah.” Nate flashed the Notes app on his phone toward Sarah. “I’ve already got your order drafted and ready to go—cucumber avocado, absolutely no shellfish.”
“I feel so loved,” Sarah said, nudging Nell with her elbow. “Although I kind of want to see this infamous turkey disaster.”
Later, once the prep was mostly finished and the turkey was safely (for now) in the oven, Nell stayed in the kitchen while Nate and Sarah moved into the den.
From her position by the stove, she could see them on the couch, Nate already shouting at the football game.
Sarah stretched out beside him, long legs tucked under a blanket, laughing at something he said.
She dried her hands, taking the opportunity to linger at the kitchen doorway while taking a measured sip of the old-fashioned she had made for herself, savoring the full-bodied flavor on her tongue.
She watched the two of them—Nate, her oldest, dearest friend, and Sarah, her .
. . well, she didn’t quite know what Sarah was to her yet.
It was unnerving how easily Sarah fit here, in her home, like she should have been here all along.
Unnerving, yes, but not entirely unexpected.
“Do either of you need anything from the kitchen?” she called to the pair.
“I’ll take a glass of whatever you’re drinking,” Sarah called, and Nell caught the smile she gave her from across the room.
Nell expertly crafted Sarah’s drink before joining her and Nate.
Their fingers brushed ever so slightly as she handed over the crystal tumbler to Sarah.
She briefly eyed the empty cushion next to her before opting for the plush armchair instead.
As Sarah and Nate watched the game, Nell pulled out a well-worn paperback she kept on the shelf for rare lazy days—a sapphic, end-of-the-world, second-chance romance.
She was halfway through an action-packed chapter, lost in the story, when she smelled it.
Burning.
She bolted upright, nearly knocking her book to the floor. “No—no, no, no—”
Sarah looked up, startled. “What—”
“The turkey,” Nell said, already running for the kitchen, knowing it was too late.
Smoke billowed as she opened the oven door, the bird inside already blackened in patches, one side sunken, the entire thing glistening in a way that suggested it had both overcooked and undercooked simultaneously.
Nate peered at her, arms crossed, fighting to contain his smile.
“It’s a masterpiece, Nellie. Truly. Your best turkey yet.”
Sarah appeared behind them a moment later, her face caught between sympathy and amusement. “It’s definitely something.” She bit her lip, also attempting to hide her laugh.
“I hate both of you,” Nell muttered, but they were all already laughing.
“Smile with the turkey, please,” Nate said. “I need the photo for my scrapbook. You, too, Sarah. Get in there.”
Nell obliged, sneaking a lewd gesture at Nate that Sarah definitely noticed, but Sarah leaned in next to her, slipping an arm around her waist, her body immediately stiffening at the touch before relaxing into the heat of Sarah’s hand resting gently on her hip.
That night, after they had all gone to their respective rooms, there was a quiet knock on her door.
“It’s me,” came Sarah’s muffled voice.
Nell froze before sliding out from under the covers, padding barefoot across the old wooden floors, and opening the door to find Sarah standing there in a T-shirt and pajama pants.
“I couldn’t sleep. I saw your light was still on and thought maybe we could talk for a bit.”
“Come in,” she said quietly, opening the door wider to allow Sarah entrance to her bedroom. She inhaled as Sarah brushed past her, that same faint scent of warm vanilla filling her with comfort.
Sarah, to her surprise, had made herself right at home in Nell’s room, plopping down onto the bed, fluffing the pillows as she nestled in. Nell paused momentarily, unsure whether she should join Sarah or remain standing; she decided it would be awkward if she stood.
“Sure, go ahead, get comfortable,” she mused, reaching for a remote on the bedside table, turning on the gas fireplace opposite the bed, casting a glow across the room before climbing into the bed herself.
“Don’t worry, I will.” Sarah laughed. “I need to get the name of the place you get your mattresses from. Every bed of yours I’ve been in has been so comfortable.”
Nell felt the heat rising involuntarily in her cheeks as she thought of the time in the Hamptons where she had had Sarah in her bed. “Don’t,” she warned Sarah softly.
“Your mind went there, not mine.”
Sarah rolled onto her side, and she could feel Sarah’s eyes on hers as she kept hers determinedly focused on the dancing flames in the fireplace.
“You said you wanted to talk?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“I guess one could say that, but usually the person who initiates the conversation also supplies the topic of discussion.”
“Fair enough. Let’s talk about our ‘arrangement,’ as you keep calling it.”
That got her attention—the arrangement. Of course Sarah would want to talk about that.
“How do these usually go for you? I assume I’m not the only woman you’ve done this with—”
“There haven’t been other arrangements, not like this,” Nell cut in.
She didn’t know what had come over her. She could have easily let Sarah continue the belief that she was merely a number in a line of women to her. But it was important that she make the correction that Sarah wasn’t just anyone to her. She rolled on her side to meet Sarah’s gaze.
“Oh.” Sarah’s eyes searched hers.
“You seem surprised by that.”