Chapter 55
Skylar
"You sure you’re ready to forgive him?" Grace eyes the C!itasaurus with a longing expression.
"You don’t have to." Imelda snatches one of the double-chocolate bonbons shaped like a woman’s butt—the ones called Spanked—and pops it into her mouth.
She’s joined our weekly book club meeting. Every week, it’s been a struggle to get the customers out of the shop in time to close up. Eventually, I gave up. I extended the hours, as evidenced by the people at different tables.
Hiring someone to do social media has paid off big time.
That, and putting some money into advertising the bakery locally.
Foot traffic has increased, mothers have begun coming in for coffee with their girlfriends, and the packed goodies are flying off the shelves.
And being able to introduce free-Wi-Fi for all customers is a game-changer.
The best part? I know there are at least two romance authors who’ve been writing their novels in the seating area of the bakery, and they’ve featured the desserts in their books. For the first time since starting The Fearless Kitten, I’m in the black.
And it’s thanks to him. Not just the money he deposited in my account, but the feedback he gave me when I showed him my business plan.
The gentle nudge toward hiring staff, which I knew I should do, but couldn’t find the courage to do it.
He steered me in the right direction, then stepped back. If only he could see the place now.
I glance around the still-crowded shop. We managed to grab one of the bigger tables so the book club could meet.
Every Friday night, the girls and I have been catching up here.
It’s a welcome break, and my one social activity of the week.
That, and meeting up with Hugo. Initially, I went every day, but when it was clear he was getting on swimmingly well—partly due to the new medication he’s on, that resulted in longer pockets of lucidity where he could communicate with me on the phone—I dropped the frequency of my visits to weekly.
I’ve visited him four times since Nate left. Four weeks since I last saw him.
Of course, I told him to give me time. I told him I needed space.
But I didn’t expect him to actually give me space.
I’ve been sneaking glances out of my apartment window and scanning the street below, but there haven’t been any cars parked there—at least, no one who looks like my husband stationed outside keeping a look out on the building.
Apparently, he’s sticking to his word, which is good, right? It’s what I wanted, after all.
He had some of my clothes sent over and messaged me to say he’d arranged to have food delivered to me thrice a day, so I wouldn’t starve.
I told him he needn’t have bothered, but he said he knew how hard I’d be working and that it would take me time to get my new team up and running.
Meanwhile, he’d rest easy knowing I was being fed.
His words brought tears to my eyes. That’s so Nathan.
He cares for me so much. And he’s not doing any of this as a way to push me into coming around.
I mean, obviously, that’s what he wants, but he’s doing this because he really wants to take care of me.
He’s the kind of guy who’ll stand by the ones he loves.
Who’ll do anything for his family and friends.
It’s why he blames himself for what happened to Ben. My phone buzzes.
I look at the message. It’s not from Ben.
I know I’ll never hear from him again, and that’s bittersweet.
It’s still difficult for me to believe he’s gone but I’m beginning to accept it.
Probably because I’ve lived with this reality for a year.
Somewhere inside of me, I think I knew he wasn’t coming back.
Subconsciously, I’ve had time to absorb it.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t fall apart completely again?
Or maybe, I’m waiting for the opportunity to do so.
"Who’s the message from?" Grace manages to tear her gaze away from the C!itasaurus long enough to ask.
"Hugo." I smile. "He’s been experimenting with his new menu."
"New menu?" Zoey’s voice is surprised. "He’s cooking again?"
"And how." I show her the picture of the dish he texted me.
"That looks delicious." Summer smiles.
"What is it?" Imelda peers at the screen. "Is that an omelet?"
I cough, then take a drink of water before nodding at the screen. "A crab and asparagus omelet, with cherry tomatoes and rocket leaves, drizzled with balsamic glaze on the side."
Imelda whistles. "Fancy-schmancy!"
Another message comes through, and I read it out loud, "I’d love to cook for you and your book club one day soon."
"Oh, that would be great," Grace exclaims.
"He’s been wanting to meet the rest of the Spicy booktokers." I laugh. That’s the name we’ve given ourselves.
"I’d love that." Imelda nods.
"Me, too," Summer chimes in.
"Maybe we can meet him next week?" When my friends nod in assent, I text him back.
Hugo: *smile emoji* *smile emoji* I’ll plan the menu right away
"He can’t wait." I laugh and set the phone aside.
"So he’s doing well?" Grace finally reaches for a C!itasauraus and stares at it with reverence.
"He’s improving so much. I hardly recognize him. It’s amazing what the right care and medication will do." I take a sip of my tea.
"It was Nate who found the facility for him, right?" Imelda brushes the crumbs off her fingers.
I nod. We should be exchanging opinions on the last book we read, but really, we found that we got along so well, the weekly meetings have become more of an excuse to catch up on each other’s lives.
The very first Friday after he left, I met all of them, and before I knew it, I’d shared the entire story with them.
It was such a relief, too. It felt like a weight had lifted, especially when Grace, Imelda, and Summer empathized with me.
There wasn’t any judgement. Which is what I’d worried about.
Zoey looked at me with an I-told-you-so expression, to which I rolled my eyes.
It gives me a warm feeling to realize I’ve found my tribe.
Friends who have my back. A bakery that’s doing well enough that I’m already thinking of expanding.
And Hugo’s on the mend. If only I had a chance to share his progress and that of my business with my husband.
I do miss him. Don’t get me wrong; I love my friends.
But it’s not the same as having my man by my side. A shiver grips me, and I sneeze.
"Skye?" Imelda touches my shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yes, of course." I reach for a tissue and blow my nose.
"I seem to be coming down with a cold, is all.
And yes, it was Nate who found the facility for him.
" And it was Nate who helped me turn around my business. Nate who revealed the truth of what happened to Ben. My husband may not be here in person, but he’s infiltrated every part of my life.
"You miss him," Imelda murmurs.
I glance around to find the other women watching me.
"I thought I wouldn’t. No, that’s not correct.
I knew I would, but I didn’t think it would be to this extent.
" I sniffle, then blow my nose into the tissue again. Ugh, I really am coming down with a cold. At least, I hope it’s a cold and not a flu.
I can’t afford to get sick—not now, when I still need the new team to settle in.
I have a new person behind the counter, and two new people who help fulfill deliveries within a five- mile radius of the bakery.
And in addition to a social media manager, I have an advertising manager, as well as an accountant.
I’ve gone from a one-woman operation to a small business unit employing six additional people, in a matter of weeks.
"Oh, honey, your cold seems to be getting worse." Zoey clicks her tongue. "Have you been taking your vitamins?"
Nope. I’ve been rushing around trying to keep busy, trying not to think of my husband.
In the process, I seem to have forgotten to do basic self-care stuff, like take my daily vitamins, or work out, or eat healthy…
For that matter, I probably wouldn’t be eating at all if it weren’t for my sweet, thoughtful husband. Who I miss.
"You’ve been working too hard." Grace’s forehead wrinkles.
"When was the last time you took some time off?" Summer frowns. Her phone buzzes; she looks at it and sighs. "I need to go relieve the baby-sitter."
"So glad you could make it." I blow a kiss in her direction. "I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to risk passing you the germs."
She blows a kiss back at me, then at the others. "It was so lovely to meet all of you. I’m going to try to make it next Friday, if all goes well. And you”—she stabs a finger in my direction—"you take care of that cold. And if you need anything—"
"I’ll be fine." I laugh. "Some sleep, and I’ll be right as rain tomorrow."
Ugh, I am not right as rain. In fact, it feels like a storm has taken up residence in my head.
I groan, then turn on my side. The others fussed over me, including helping me to shut down the shop, and seeing me upstairs.
Imelda tucked me into bed. Zoey made me a cup of hot tea with lemon and ginger and insisted I take it, along with Tylenol.
I swallowed it down without protest, then fell asleep to the sound of my friends talking.
When I woke up at midnight, I managed to go to the bathroom, drank some more water, then fell asleep again.
I woke up with shivers wracking my body.
I peer at my phone, and realize I didn’t charge it.
I manage to plug it in and switch it on.
It’s two a.m., so it must be more than six hours since I took the last dose of Tylenol.
I reach for the bottle of pills Zoey must have left behind on my nightstand, then shake out two and swallow them down with the now tepid tea.
I slide down under the covers, then curl up on my side, trying to keep my body warmth in.
My teeth chatter, the chills seem to intensify, and I can’t stop shaking.
I stuff my palms under my armpits in an attempt to warm them.
I feel terrible. Terrible. Tears slide down my cheeks.
I will not feel sorry for myself. I will not.
I swipe at the moisture. Close my eyes, and sleep fitfully.
Finally, warmth sweeps over me. I sigh, snuggling into it. A heavy hand descends around my waist and pulls me against a hard front. I know it’s him. "Nate," I whisper.