Chapter 5 #2
“I’ll be right outside your classroom door when the dismissal bell rings,” Nicky insists at Natalia’s continued silence.
He flicks his troubled blue eyes to me, desperation making them darker even in the bright sunlight that filters through the trees.
Natalia continues to cry, untrusting of her father’s promises, and it is tearing me up.
I doubt there is any reason to think Nicky wouldn’t keep his word, but the mind of a child can provide plenty when scared.
“What if I bring your dad myself, hmm?” I don’t even think before the words fall from my mouth. It should be easy to fit into my schedule this afternoon. Natalia sniffles but turns to me with a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Nicky’s grip tightens on my hip.
“Yes, please, Bea.”
Nicky’s jaw does that clenching thing before he smiles at his daughter, and I hope I haven’t overstepped.
But he gives Natalia the smile I’m learning is special, just for her.
He gives a single nod and then kisses her forehead.
He stands with unexpected grace, his hold finally slipping from my body before he offers the hand to help me straighten.
His skin is rough and warm, his hand large enough to make me feel small and delicate in a way I like far too much after being this close to him.
“Bea will make sure I’m here,” Nicky tells his daughter firmly when he lets go of my hand. He wraps it around Natalia’s shoulders and turns her to join the flood of students making their way to their classrooms. “Now, let’s go say hello to your teacher and find your desk.”
“Have a good day, Nat,” I call as they walk away. It catches Natalia’s attention, and she breaks from Nicky to run back for one more hug around my hips. My little friend gives me a brave face when she looks up at me, and I can't help but cradle her cheek tenderly. “Be kind. Learn lots.”
Petal
It’s really nice of you to do this for Natalia.
I couldn’t handle how heartbroken she looked. I’m really glad your dad understands and cuts practice short for pick up.
Petal
My dad WAS Nicky when I was a kid. He never missed a first day of school (until I started driving myself). He makes it an annual mandate that the first day of school skate is shortened for the guys.
Cal sure is a good one.
I close out of the message app and push myself off the wall outside the locker room. Players are trickling out, dressed down in sweats and shorts, hair wet from post-skate showers. Nerves flutter in my stomach as I wait for one player in particular to show up.
I’m afraid I was out of line this morning—I don’t regret my offer—but I am concerned Nicky might be upset with me. It’s not my place to make decisions that could impact his parenting. I just felt Natalia’s pain so deeply and couldn’t imagine letting her experience the same things I did as a child.
Before I can spiral too far down that rabbit hole, Nicky emerges from the locker room.
He’s in the same jeans-and-T-shirt combo he had on this morning at drop-off.
The pale blue of the shirt brings out the lighter striations of his eyes, brightening his entire face.
He’s clean-shaven now, having ditched the last remnants of his beard since the start of camp.
Something about superstitions and playoffs as his reason.
Whatever the motivation, Nicky’s smooth skin and sharp jaw make him appear younger than a few weeks ago, even carefree.
He comes up short when he spots me, and the relaxed expression I had been admiring morphs into the usual solemn face he wears around me.
We’ve gotten friendlier over the last few weeks, and while Nicky is still guarded at times, it’s almost like he needs to be thawed out a little every time we interact.
“Hey,” I greet, falling into step next to him, and his face relaxes again. Softening to give me the barest half-smile in greeting, he doesn’t say anything in response. At the end of the tunnel near the players’ exit, I speak up again. “How do you think Nat’s going to be?”
“Not sure.” Nicky looks down at me before pushing the door wide and holding it for me.
I love the casual chivalry and let my eyes linger on the way his forearm flexes to keep the door propped open.
In the afternoon sun, I turn back to him, walking beside me again.
“When I left her at her desk, she seemed all right. Definitely better than she was outside the gate. I think your offer helped.”
Guilt twists my stomach as Nicky slows next to a sleek, black BMW X7.
The SUV is perfectly Nicky: practical, functional, and no-nonsense.
The locks disengage, and he opens the passenger door for me.
Before I climb in, I set a hand on his arm to gain his attention.
He glances at it before following the line of my arm to my face.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped this morning,” I start. Nicky’s eyebrows pinch together, but I soldier on before he can say anything. “You’re her dad. How things went should have been your choice, and I’m sorry I didn’t respect that. I—”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Nicky cuts me off. He covers my hand with his, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “Natalia trusts you. It was exactly what she needed to hear.”
“Okay,” I agree, missing him when he drops his hand and walks around the hood to the driver’s side.
I slip into the car, relaxing into the supple black leather and pushing away the rest of my apology.
Natalia trusts you. I’m fortified by that statement.
It fills me with a validation I didn’t know I needed.
It’s healing and tenuous in a way I want to protect forever.
We’re almost at the school, the ride spent in the comfortable silence I’ve come to expect while in Nicky’s company, when he clears his throat and finally speaks. “Do you,” he begins hesitantly. “Do you remember your first day of school?”
I smile at the simplicity of the question; the sweet way Nicky starts a conversation between us. I hum thoughtfully, considering how I want to answer.
“Not really,” I respond honestly. “I know my parents didn’t take me, but they aren’t what anyone would consider ‘involved,’ so my nanny took me and picked me up.
That’s how it went until I could finally be sent away to boarding school at eleven.
By then, my parents assumed I could be trusted to take care of myself. What about you?”
“Mom dropped me off at the extended-hours care at the school, and I stayed there after dismissal, too, until she could get me. Sometimes, our neighbor would sign me out, and I’d go to her place.
But Mom usually had to work.” There isn’t any bitterness in his voice.
We both spent a lot of our childhoods alone, yet I can tell by the way Nicky has spoken about his mother and his upbringing that he never felt unattended or unloved.
It’s vastly different from how I think about my childhood.
“My dad was always at work, too,” I offer.
“But Mum was usually…elsewhere.” Nicky cocks his head, so I answer the silent question.
“I’m the product of two people who treated their relationship like a checklist. Respectable families with generational wealth?
Check. Engagement and wedding covered in the press?
Check. Produce a child to ensure properties and holdings can stay in the family?
Check. Hire nannies to raise said child and never have to be involved? Double-check.”
Nicky pulls up to the curb, deftly parking the SUV as the familiar bitterness creeps into my voice.
I look out the window to draw a slow breath in.
The anger slips into a quiet sadness I’m used to carrying.
There have been therapists over the years who have helped me address the issues that come with having parents in name only, but there are times I can’t control the flood of emotions that reality brings.
I let out a big sigh and turn back to face Nicky, knowing the feeling will pass.
There’s no judgment in the way he looks at me. Just an open, honest expression, pinched at the corners with concern he’s trying to hide. I instantly feel relaxed. Accepted, yet he hasn’t even said a single word because he’s not forcing me to explain anything else.
“It’s their loss, solnyshka,” he says before popping his door open and getting out of the car.