18. Maddie
Chapter eighteen
Maddie
Nick seems reluctant to stay, and I can’t tell if that’s because of his relationship with his mom or some other reason. I can’t read him. Am I supposed to say I need to get home or that I’m okay with spending the night? Icy roads make me nervous as well. I vote to stay.
We retreat downstairs to the living room, and his mom stokes up the flames in the fireplace. The living room has one large couch with two comfortable-looking armchairs and a huge flat screen TV. On the back wall is a bookcase filled with DVDs.
I offer to help make dinner with his mom, but Nick says that he and his mom like cooking together, and I should keep working on my article.
I give Nick and his mom some alone time and retreat to their library to work on my latest article.
But my thoughts keep flashing back to Nick.
“I support his dreams, like he supports mine.” How could I say something so corny?
I hide my head in my hands. That probably convinced his mom that our dating is a publicity stunt now.
Except that then we’d have a better script, and it wouldn’t be me saying sappy things like that.
I had looked into Nick’s eyes at that moment and thought, Am I the only one feeling this connection? Am I out here by myself, living in my own fantasyland? It was the same when we had dinner at Ciel and the night we went dancing. I’m falling so hard, and I don’t know how to stop liking him.
I sigh. That slight blush that stained his cheeks when I said that he was fit… It made my heart flutter.
Then I think about his mom, which makes me think of his dad. Did his dad even try to be a father? Or did he disappear immediately? Is that why his mom is bitter?
Or did his dad change over time? Won’t Nick change at some point? He’ll no longer blush when a woman checks him out. He’ll expect it.
This isn’t real, I remind myself.
But why did he want me to meet his mom? Why didn’t he say he was busy? Or that I was busy?
He said he can’t say no when his mom asks. But he can lie to her about us.
It’s definitely complicated. It’s wrong to lie to his mom. But the way his face fell when she went back to wishing he was an accountant… It’s like when my mom says, “Are you sure you don’t want to join us working here? I created this cookie business for both of you guys.”
And wouldn’t I worry about losing him if we were dating?
I should be working on quelling these feelings, not trying to figure out if they’re real.
We can’t date. Every time he hugs another woman, there will be rumors that he’s moved on from me—after all, what did he see in me in the first place?
I’ve seen some of the comments about me.
I will have to ignore the whispers behind my back—poor Maddie, she’s being cheated on.
And even though I know Nick would never cheat—well, today’s Nick—what if his mom is right and fame changes someone?
But even if he didn’t ever cheat, others would think that I was deceiving myself and holding on to some relationship mirage, even if it wasn’t fake.
But maybe it would be worth it. Because when Nick and I hang out, he’s Nick—not The Nick Devlin, rock star.
I sigh. I really need to focus and write this article. But he’s still invading my thoughts. It makes sense. He’s a rock star—objectively hot. It would be ridiculous if I weren’t affected by being this close to him, even if we’re just supposed to be friends. Even if I should be used to him.
In incognito mode, I check out Ward’s Instagram page. My breath catches. Every two weeks, he has a post with a miniature library scene. I compare the last two photos to see if any differences pop out.
Yes, the sign announcing the book club changes every two weeks.
And the location… The location is St Agnes.
And two weeks ago, the location was the Mid-Manhattan Library.
A shiver goes through me. Those are the names of library branches around New York City.
Is he meeting someone at St. Agnes tomorrow?
Is this my break? Is this when they exchange the money? But meeting in person seems risky.
I check the post for any other clues. The doll is reading a different book each week.
A month ago, she was reading Rescued by Ellen Gilman.
But she’s not reading any book this week.
The Caper Crush bookmark! Are they hiding the money in books?
Is that why Pommer said, “Those books add up”?
Ward received a book with a bookmark. Did that signal that the money would be in Caper Crush ?
I’ve got it! My first big break! I can catch him tomorrow if my theory is right! I jump up and down. Yes!
I run down the stairs to tell Nick.
Nick is equally elated, but we both agree we shouldn’t discuss my investigation over dinner because of the leak last time.
It’s hard not to, though. Thankfully, dinner is delicious.
I insist on washing the dishes, but Nick helps me.
And as I pass the dishes to him to dry, his hand brushes mine.
It must be so obvious that I like him. Especially with two women monitoring our every move.
At least they will believe that we are dating.
After I wash the dishes with Nick, his mom suggests playing Clue.
The four of us sit around the circular table. Nick hands out extra pieces of paper in addition to the Clue sheet. I take one—I like to note down all the guesses and answers. Nick doesn’t take a piece of paper. I’m totally going to win.
We each take turns rolling the dice and making our guesses.
There’s good-natured ribbing and moaning when someone gets pulled into a room they don’t want to be in, but overall, the atmosphere is hushed and intense, everyone shielding their cards and their clue sheet from prying eyes.
I’ve narrowed it down—it’s definitely Mrs. White and the candlestick, but I don’t have the room yet.
And everyone seems to know that the candlestick is the weapon.
Nick suddenly says that he’s willing to take a guess.
What? How?
He guesses the candlestick, White, and the kitchen, takes the cards out of the packet, and he’s right.
His mom shakes her head. “He wins every time.”
“You’ve been holding out on me with your detective skills!” I say.
“I can’t compare to you,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you finally have a good clue. We make a solid team.”
Nick’s mom and Christy murmur that they are ready for bed. Nick’s mom suggests we can stay in the living room until we’re ready to retire, but she says, “Please be forewarned that noise travels in the house…”
Nick looks mortified, and I feel my cheeks heat.
“I think we’ll call it a night,” he mutters.
We head up to the bedrooms. This has got to be the earliest Nick has ever gone to bed.
There is only one bed. And it’s not even a king-size bed. I’m not even sure it’s queen-size.
We both stare at the bed. At least it has a lot of pillows.
“I’ll take the floor, obviously.” Nick takes off a handful of pillows.
“Don’t be silly. I’m sure we can share the bed,” I say.
“I’ll get more sleep on the floor,” he says.
What? He wants to stay away from me that badly?
Nick takes one look at my face and steps closer. My breath catches as I suddenly realize he is saying that he can’t share the bed because sleep is not what will be on his mind. That heat in his eyes… He is attracted to me.
“How can I be sure I’m not violating clause eleven if my hand touches you?
” His voice is practically a growl. What that deep timbre is doing to my stomach…
He reaches out, stopping a hair’s breadth from my arm.
I swear I can feel the heat from his hand.
He takes a step closer. I back up until my body is flat against the wall.
My pulse flickers. Our gazes are locked until his shifts to my lips.
“And if you tease your lip like that, and I’m half-asleep…will I remember to say thanks much before I kiss you?
Nick does want to kiss me. And I want to kiss him. I am transfixed by the heat in his perusal. But also, I don’t want to kiss him, in case I’m a terrible kisser.
He puts one hand next to my head slowly, giving me time to move away. I can’t.
“I’m a hugger. What if my subconscious, in the middle of the night, completely forgets about all the various terms and my arms reach out to hug you? That’s going to happen if we share that bed. Should I ask for permission now? Will that count?”
I swallow.
We stare at each other, and a wave of emotion cascades over me—of longing and desire and fear. So many thoughts rush through my head.
I am falling so hard.
I can’t let Nick break my heart.
This is not for real—or even if this chemistry is very much for real (because it has to be), this it not for forever.
Nick takes a deep breath, as if pulling himself together, shakes his head, and pulls away his hand, stepping back and crossing his arms.
It’s like the cold wind from outside snuck through any cracks under the windowsill and grabbed me in its icy embrace. I step forward.
“No. I also don’t want to kiss you for the first time in my mom’s house,” Nick says.
For the first time…
And if I’m really a terrible kisser…for the last time.
I step back.
“There’s not enough privacy,” Nick says. “Why don’t I tell my mom that I snore and you have an important meeting tomorrow, so you need your sleep, and then I’ll take the couch?”
Nick looks incredibly pleased with himself, nodding as he sits down at the edge of the bed. “Unless you want to be the snorer?”