Chapter 11 Nora
NORA
When I finally get back to Michael’s with my clothes, my dinner—pasta takeout from Francesca’s with enough carbs to put me in a coma—and a fresh bottle of chilled wine, it’s nearing seven pm and I’m exhausted.
While I technically was scheduled until three, the rental car place called for Pam, and I offered to take her evening clients so she could go grab her rental, since the place closes early on weekdays.
Abby had to drive her, so it was just Zayne and me until he left at four thirty—leaving me and the last client of the day, Mrs. Jones, there until damn near five forty-five.
And seeing as I didn’t get lunch like I had planned on account of my stomach fluttering like a herd of butterflies in Freddie Sterling’s presence, I was more than starving by the time I got in my car.
My phone rings and I sigh as I lock the door, knowing that ringtone just about anywhere.
Michael, my brother.
I swipe to answer, hearing his warm, familiar voice.
“Hey, sis, how’s it hanging over there? How’s my sweet little ball of fluff doing?”
My brother’s cat, Pickles, darts down the hall on cue, as if he just knows my brother is on the other end of the phone. He meows away in protest.
“He misses you,” I say, smirking as I set my bags on the coffee table. I move to get my take-out boxes first, plopping down on the couch as I kick off my shoes and push open my container of pasta.
“Of course he does, tell him I miss him too,” Michael says in his baby-cat voice. I can’t help but smile.
“Tell him yourself,” I say as I put him on speaker.
Naturally, he does, talking in his reserved-only-for-Pickles cat-voice, and I can’t help my grin as I watch Pickles watch the phone intently.
I’ve always wanted a pet, but it never seemed the right time when I was on my own, and Brett didn’t want any pets or as he called them, “obligations.”
I never thought much of it, figuring that agreeing was best, but now…I’m not so sure.
When Michael’s done, I take him off speaker and he asks, “And how is my favorite little sister?”
I sigh, figuring now is as good a time as ever. Might as well put my big girl panties on and tell him the truth.
“Yeah…about that, I uh…Brett and I sort of broke up.”
“What?” He sounds shocked, and I can’t blame him. I’m still feeling the effects of saying those words too. “What happened? I thought—”
“Yeah, me too, Mike.” I sigh. “I found Brett in bed with another woman. On our anniversary.”
“Shit,” my brother says. “Nora, I’m so sorry. That’s so messed up.”
I feel the tears festering once more at those words. But it’s not just the words, it’s the tone. The unspoken things.
I know my brother does feel bad for me, but it’s that sympathy, that sadness and disappointment, that hits me the hardest. Because somehow, it feels like I failed. Like he sees me as a failure, even though I know that’s not the case.
Michael’s always been my biggest supporter in life. Especially since our parents moved away to Florida to retire. Though it’s been hard to keep up with one another since he and Max, his boyfriend, have been traveling more recently and working on fixing up this house, which they bought last year.
“Yeah, me too.” I sniffle. “But, uh…I haven’t exactly figured out what I’m doing yet, you know. About my stuff, and the house is in Brett’s name, so—”
“You know you can stay with me if you want, but it might be a little chaotic.”
I tense. It’s the wary way he says the words. Gingerly.
“Why?”
“Because Mom and Dad are coming…” he says and I suck in a breath.
I close my eyes, purse my lips and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Oh my God, Mike, I totally forgot.”
“I mean, you are welcome, but it might be a little hectic for the next month and a half while the kitchen guys are here alongside Mom and Dad, you know?”
I completely forgot about their trip up here, seeing as I was so focused on Brett and the start of the season. But as Michael says the words, I feel like a real failure. I should have remembered this.
On one hand, staying with my brother and spending time with my parents sounds great, but on the other, I’m not sure I want to delve into everything with them. I need to figure out what I’m doing first, what I can even say to them…
My parents only met Brett once, last Christmas when they came up and we hosted.
As long as he treats ya right, sweetheart. My dad’s words echo in my brain.
But my mother…
My mother was thrilled at the idea of a famous hockey player wooing her daughter. As such, she was more than friendly with his family, as she tried to get to know her new family, because she was insistent that we would be family one day.
Which only adds to my feelings of failure and inadequacy.
I shake my head. “Thanks, but…maybe I’ll ask Abby.”
Or I could call Freddie.
No, I tell myself. Absolutely not. I am not calling Flash Sterling to come to my damn rescue like I’m some damsel in distress. He’s my ex’s brother, for God’s sakes, and not only that—I can’t upset the balance of the Sterling brothers household. What if Tommy and Rush don’t want me there?
I mean, one night—one drunk night—is one thing, but staying for days or weeks or maybe even longer until I figure out a plan alongside the brothers of my ex sounds like a recipe for disaster.
Or a terrible rom-com movie.
“Well, you know the offer’s there, so just let me know.”
“Thanks, Mike,” I say as I dig my fork into my carbonara, choosing to focus on the bacon.
I haven’t had bacon in months, ever since Brett made that comment about it going straight to my hips one day.
So today feels a good day to just say fuck it and have a little treat.
I feel like I could use a treat right now.
“You have plans tonight?” Michael asks carefully.
“It’s been a long couple days, so I think it’s best if I just sit in tonight,” I tell him, not wanting to elaborate further. Thankfully, he doesn’t push me. “Probably just going to put some movies on and cuddle with your cat and have some dinner.”
“That’s good. Relax. Take a load off,” he says. “I have to go. Max is waving me down, so our table must be ready.”
I smile, though it’s a sad smile, because I wish I was in my brother’s shoes right now.
Michael is on a Caribbean cruise with his boyfriend of five years. Max is a great guy. Truly, I couldn’t ask for a better man for my brother, but I’d be lying if I said my situation right now wasn’t shading how I view the world.
I guess it’s true—romance and love is a bitter pill when you’re single.
Which I am.
Single.
At least in the interim, right now, that’s what I am.
Part of me hopes I won’t be, soon enough. That Brett and I will have spent our time apart and realized how we’re meant to be together. Or more accurately, Brett will realize this, since I already thought we were meant to be.
But maybe we aren’t.
I don’t know. I guess I don’t know much of anything right now except that this pasta tastes amazing.
Instead of thinking about it, I tell my brother I’m excited for him and can’t wait to hear all about his trip when he gets home, and then I hang up.
I pull up Netflix, realizing I forgot to grab a wineglass, and groan.
I should probably get up to get one, but I just sat down and I’m feeling like this couch and I are one about right now, so I unscrew the lid from the bottle and take a swig of the sweet white liquid.
It’s not like I’m sharing it with anyone, anyway.
Cats don’t drink, and I don’t think going out right now is such a good idea, after what happened last time.
Yeah, I’m better off staying in tonight, for sure.
I flip through the movie choices and settle on Home Again with Reese Witherspoon, because I’ve never seen it and Abby keeps raving about it because supposedly she’s an older woman with three boyfriends.
I can’t even handle one man. How in the hell would anyone handle three?
Once I’m full of pasta, I grab my bottle of wine and curl up underneath the soft, cozy throw blankets. The movies bleed into each other. One after the other.
I keep looking at my bag of clothes. I grab it, figuring now is as good a time as any to clip off tags and set out what I’m going to wear tomorrow. I pull out the clothes, one by one, and just when I think I’m done, I find the bras and underwear.
“Oh, that’s right!” I say, shaking my head. “I totally forgot about these.”
I probably should at least try some of this on to make sure it does fit. Maybe I should have done so at the store, but I hadn’t expected to run into Freddie, nor did I expect to get swept up into having coffee with him.
My mind dares to wander down dark pathways I know it shouldn’t as I remember his dark gaze, his voice breathing those two words that made my stomach flip.
Good girl.
I shove the thought away, locking it in the same place where I’ve abandoned my memories of kissing Rush. Deep inside my soul, where no light can shine.
“What do you think, Pickles?” I ask as I take a swig of my wine. “You want a fashion show?”
Pickles only stares at me with a judgmental look, his meow almost cautious. Like he’s telling me I need to be careful.
But there’s nothing dangerous about trying on clothes. So I take another swig of my wine, the liquid sloshing in the bottle as I set it down on the coffee table. I pull off my shirt and slip out of my jeans first, letting them fall to the floor.
The cool air of the living room kisses my skin, and I stand there for a moment, feeling strangely dizzy. I shake my head, dispelling the momentary lapse, and slip off my borrowed underwear.
Rush’s underwear.
I hold them up for a moment, looking at them once again. The tight band and the smooth fabric between my fingers. The little separator pocket, which makes me think of his cock.