Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Nash
I lean back in the chair and listen to Caine and my father talk about the merger they want to do. A meeting that was supposed to be this afternoon, but I got a call a week early to go and pick up the cat. My head is half in this phone call, half on Zoey and her words.
“After ninety days, we could be divorced. What if you, or we, decide this isn’t what either of us wants?”
I close my eyes, trying not to focus on the words and the fact my heart has never felt such pain as when she said we could be divorced. It was as if she kicked me in the balls, and I went down on the floor to my back, and then they came and stomped right on my chest. It left me so winded I had no idea what to say. The words were all stuck in my brain, but the only thing I could think is she already has one foot out the door. Is she doing this just to say she did it for ninety days and then just leave me, leave us?
“What do you think, Nash?” My father’s voice brings me back to the conversation.
“Um…” I clear my throat. “I agree with everything Caine said.” It’s my go-to, always has been because out of the two of us, he has his shit together, always has. Minus the part where he met his horrible, wretched ex-wife before meeting Grace.
Caine’s laughter fills the phone. “That means he hasn’t heard a thing we’ve said for the past hour because his head is elsewhere.”
“It is, actually,” I admit. “It’s almost eight here, and it’s past Caine’s bedtime.” I try to make a joke to get off this call. “How about we reconvene tomorrow morning at eight my time?”
“Sounds good. Have a good night, boys,” my father says right before he hangs up, and I laugh because we are both in our thirties, but we are still boys to him.
“Later,” I say.
At the same time, Caine says, “Good night.”
I put my phone down, seeing the emails that have come in since this afternoon when I left, knowing I have to answer a couple of them before I head to bed. I get up and walk out into the kitchen, seeing Zoey sitting on the floor trying to assemble one of the cat trees while the cat sits between her legs. “We are almost finished,” she tells the cat, and I see she put out the white water bowl I bought for her and right beside her the white bowl for food, “and then we are going to set up the litter box. I just don’t know where to put it.” I can’t help but feel centered and at peace when I hear her voice or know she’s around. “I was thinking the laundry room upstairs, but we’ll see once Nash gets off the phone.”
“I don’t care where you put it,” I cut in on their private conversation. “You can put it wherever you want it.”
She looks up at me, and all I can do is stare at her. “Oh, you’re off the phone,” she says softly.
“I am, but I need to answer a couple of emails,” I tell her, looking at the food on the counter that she was taking out when I got here. “Did you eat?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I was waiting to see if you ate or not.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
“Oh,” she says, looking down at the cat, who is now sitting up, looking at me until she puts a paw on one of Zoey’s legs. “Okay, I’ll set up the cat and then grab something to eat.” I put my hands in my pockets, itching to go and touch her or kiss her. I don’t think we’ve gone more than eight hours without kissing each other, and that’s only because we are either sleeping or at work.
“I’ll leave you a plate on the stove in case you get hungry after your emails,” she offers and gets up off the floor. “If you don’t eat it, just put it in the fridge.” She bends to pick up the cat in her arms, who leans forward and looks up at her with the biggest eyes.
“Will do,” I reply before I turn and walk out of the room, instead of asking her what the hell she meant by us getting a divorce. Instead, I go into the office and grab my phone.
I see Caine texted me.
Caine: What’s up with you?
I look at the phone and then at the door to see if she’s going to follow me to ask me if everything is okay, but she doesn’t.
Me: Not sure.
Caine: Want to call me?
I know that it’s past eleven his time, and he has a wife and daughter he has to take care of, so I push him off.
Me: No, it’s late, we’ll talk tomorrow.
Caine: You sure?
Me: Yup, it’s nothing that urgent.
Caine: Okay, call me tomorrow.
I put the phone down before dropping my head back and looking at the ceiling as I drag my hands over my face. Ninety days, we could be divorced, the words make my hands ball into fists.
I turn in my chair and do what I know I do best, I get to work. I answer the emails that need to be answered, and before I know it, it’s past eleven. “Fuck,” I curse, turning off the computer and grabbing my phone.
I walk out, seeing the house mostly dark with just the light over the stove on. I walk over and put the plate of food on the top in the fridge before turning the light off and making my way up to the bedroom.
I look over to the right and see the light is on in the laundry room, so I walk over and see she set up the litter box with another bowl of water and food for the cat. I don’t turn off the light, but I close the door enough for it not to shine in the hallway. I walk over to the bedroom, where I see Zoey on her side with the cat curled up in a ball by her stomach. Both of them are sleeping. I quietly tiptoe to the bathroom, taking off my clothes before sliding into bed. Her back is to me, and even though I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest, I don’t. Instead, I lie on my back, looking up at the ceiling most of the night.
The cat gets up a couple of times, jumping off the bed and waking Zoey, who looks over at me, but I fake sleep, watching her get out of bed and follow the cat around the house. She climbs into bed a couple of minutes later, again turning her back to me. When I open my eyes a bit after five o’clock, I look over at her and see she’s turning toward me with the cat still sleeping next to her.
I slide out of bed slowly, so as not to wake them, before going out to the gym where I just run on the treadmill, trying to run the nerves out of me, along with everything else. When I walk into the house, I’m shocked to see her in the kitchen. “Good morning,” I greet her, and she looks over at me as she stirs the eggs in the pan in front of her.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, and she shrugs.
“Cat thought it would be a good idea to see if my eye would open if she stuck her paw in it.” She laughs before bringing her cup to her mouth. First time since we’ve been home that I haven’t made her matcha. “News flash, I opened it and then scared the shit out of her.” She looks around. “I haven’t seen her since.” She plates me breakfast, putting it on the counter where I always eat.
“I’m sure she’ll come out eventually,” I mumble to her as I make my protein shake.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and I turn to look at her standing there in my kitchen wearing shorts and a tank top. One foot on top of the other, her hair wild and free around her face, and I have to think she’s never looked more beautiful since I’ve met her.
“You tell me,” I ask, “are you okay?”
She picks up her cup, brings it to her lips, turning to the side and nodding her head. “Then I’m okay,” I answer, but the truth is I’m far from okay. I hate this. I also know I’m not ready to push her to have this conversation because what if she says things I don’t want to hear? What if she is ready to throw in the towel on this marriage, and I’m not ready to hear the words? What if she’s making plans to move back to her life in New York? What if dickhead is in the wings waiting for her? The what-ifs are making me fucking sick. I barely mix my protein shake. Unlike yesterday, when I took it upstairs and then we fucked in the shower, when I walk upstairs, she’s in the bathroom with the door closed, which is also a first.
I turn around and head over to the spare bathroom, turning on the shower and then seeing her cat has followed me in here. She looks up at me and meows. “She’s in the other room.” I point at the door. “Go find her.” I bend down and pet her. “I thought she would be so happy to have you,” I tell the little cat, who I’m sure has no fucking idea what the fuck I’m saying. I pick her up and take her back to the bedroom, seeing Zoey walk back out of the bathroom. “I found her, or more like she found me. She followed me into the other bathroom.”
“The other bathroom?” she asks, confused.
“Yeah, the door was closed, and I didn’t want to bother you, so I was going to shower in the other one.”
“Oh. Well, I’m done. You can have the bathroom.” I stare at her and see her nose is a touch red. I don’t say a word. Instead, I nod at her and walk into the bathroom, not closing the door, and starting the water, hoping like fuck she comes and joins me. She doesn’t. When I come out of the shower, the bed is made, and she’s not in the closet. I get dressed with dread, and when I head downstairs, I hear her.
“We have to leave to go to work, but you have a couple of toys to keep you busy, and I’m going to leave food and water out, and even leave the faucet in the sink on, just in case.” I smile at her voice and see her wearing pants and a shirt as she holds the cat in her arms.
“Ready?” I ask when I walk into the kitchen. She nods before kissing the cat and putting her in the basket of the cat tree she built.
I wait for her to walk out of the house, like I do every single morning. “I think I’m going to come home at lunch and check and make sure she’s okay,” she tells me as I get into the car.
“You can even work from home in the afternoon.” I start the car, and the rest of the ride to the office is done in stone-cold silence. The tension in the car is so thick my chest feels like it’s being constricted. When we get to the office, she walks ahead of me for the first time, barely holding the door open for me.
Lulu greets us with a smile as Zoey smiles at her with a fake smile before walking over to her side of the office. Lulu just looks at me confused, and I’m pretty sure everyone is going to think we’re fighting.
I walk into my office and close the door, something I’ve not done often, so if Lulu didn’t know we were fighting before, she will definitely know now. Pulling out my phone, I call the one person who will sort of help me make sense of this or maybe not.
He answers after one ring. “Caine Griffin,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“How you still do not look at the call display is still a mystery.” I put the phone to my ear, leaning back.
“It’s a force of habit,” he says, “you should try it. Sometimes it is better than yo or ’sup.”
I chuckle before I hear his voice go low. “You okay?”
I look at the closed door before I answer him, “I have no idea.”
“What happened?”
“I wish I fucking knew,” I answer him honestly. “It was going so good until her ex sent her flowers, and then she got defensive about being surrounded by women who want me,” I hiss. “Then I got her a kitten, and she got pissed at me because in ninety days, we could be divorced.”
“You bought her a cat?” he asks, the shock in his voice so apparent. “Like a small living pet?”
“She likes to watch cat videos, so I thought, let me buy her a cat,” I explain, thinking perhaps it was a little too much. “That is beside the point.”
“Okay, when she said you could be divorced in ninety days, what did you say?”
“I didn’t fucking say anything. I was in shock like, what the fuck?”
“Did you tell her how you felt?” he asks, and I don’t answer the question. “You’ve told her how you felt, haven’t you?”
“Not in so many words,” I admit to him, “and maybe it’s a good thing since she obviously doesn’t feel the same way.”
“What do you mean, not in so many words? You’ve either told her how you feel, or you haven’t.”
“I’ve shown her how I feel every single fucking day.”
“But you’ve never said ‘Zoey, I’m in love with you’?” I tap the top of my desk. “Dude, you can’t be that dumb.” He laughs. “You can show her a million different ways, but it doesn’t replace the words.”
“Yeah,” I say, not sure I agree with him, “it’s just that?—”
“Stop being a chickenshit and just fucking tell her how you feel.” I look at the door. “Just tell her.” I take a deep breath in. “Might not solve all your problems, but at least she’ll know how you feel.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” I tell him. “Thanks.” The knock on the door makes me look over. “I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone before I yell, “Come in!”
The door opens, and Zoey sticks her head in, and my heart speeds up. “You busy?”
“For you, never,” I reply as she comes into the room. “I was just coming to find you anyway.” I smile at her. “What’s up?”
“I was just on the phone with Gabriella,” she mentions her cousin, “and she’s in LA, but she’s leaving this afternoon to go to New York, so I was thinking of hitching a ride with her.” I stare at her. “Unless you want me to stay?”
I think about laying my heart out to her, but at this moment, she might reject it, and I just can’t do it. Instead, I tell her the words I don’t even want to say, yet say them anyway. “If you want to go early, you should go.”