26. nick #2
Fuck this place. I didn’t want her to stay here a minute longer.
I kept a brisk pace, walking us out of the Village to my car.
Tallulah stumbled over her sneakers, brushing at her eyes.
I opened the door for her. As soon as she slipped in, I ducked down to buckle her in, like I’d done that before, like it was normal for us.
The truth was, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make this better.
“Can—can we go to your house?” she mumbled when I slid into the car.
“Of course, sweetheart.” I reached for her hand, weaving her fingers through mine. “I’ll take you home.”
I spent ten minutes raging in the driver’s seat, cursing out every one of those assholes. It was only to show support. I wasn’t angry anymore, not really, the concern for her smothered any other emotion. Shit-talking was the only thing I could think to do.
Tallulah didn’t say one word during the ride. Her eyes were firmly planted on her knees, her hand limp in mine.
“I’ll order dinner,” I told her, opening the door to the house.
Tallulah followed inside, silent, shoulders slumped. My teammates shouted our way, gleeful to see us.
I stared daggers over my shoulder, murder in my eyes, and the noise immediately stopped.
I rubbed Tallulah’s back on our way up the stairs. “I’ll pick up ice cream too. Whatever you want.”
“I—I need a shower,” she managed.
“Whatever you need, baby,” I promised, opening the door.
Rat leaped off the bed, meowing with joy that we were finally all together, racing up to Tallulah. She stepped around the cat and closed the bathroom door in Rat’s face.
The kitten paused, taken aback. She glanced at me, confused, meowing louder like Tallulah must’ve made a mistake. Seconds passed. Rat got on her hind legs, patting her paws against the door. Her meowing became louder, demanding to be let in.
The door remained closed. Rat stared up at me, bewildered.
“Come here,” I whispered, scooping her up for my shoulder.
Rat didn’t even purr against me, she was just as worried as I was.
She peeked at the bathroom door, waiting for it to open.
I knew it wouldn’t. I grabbed one of the towels on my dresser and headed to the dryer downstairs, tossing it in to warm for a couple of seconds.
“Meow?” Rat pressed her fluffy cheek to my neck.
“Mama’s disappointed. You need to give her time.”
“Meow?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, feeling so lost. “I just don’t know.”
Even if Tallulah didn’t care about the contest, to have all of that work tossed out the window, to have it mean nothing, made my heart ache for her. I returned to my bedroom and carefully pushed open the bathroom door, ready to slide the hot towel on the counter.
The steam was so thick from the shower, it was hard to breathe. I couldn’t see her through the thin shower curtain, which was odd. I paused, listening to the running water.
My stomach dropped and clenched altogether. The sounds of soft crying were muffled, and now that I could hear it, it was all I could process. The breath escaped me. I slipped off Rat, nudging her back in the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
My movements were automatic. I unbuttoned my jeans, kicking them off. I wasn’t thinking. Only doing. With a tug, I pulled back the shower curtain.
Tallulah was naked, sitting in the tub, her arms around her knees. Her dark hair was plastered down her back, mascara smeared. Eyes bloodshot. Tears streaming down her face.
She jerked up, caught, and seemed at a loss for words.
It hurt just looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I—I’m so sorry—”
I slid into the spot behind her, climbing into the tub. I was way too big for this, the tub was too small, this couldn’t possibly work. I didn’t care. I lifted her, naked, wet, slick to the touch, and pulled her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her.
She hiccupped with the tears. “You—you have your shirt on—”
“I’m so sorry, Tallulah,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Tallulah burst into tears, sobbing against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. I squeezed her tighter, like I could hold her together.
“I spent so many hours on it,” she cried.
“I know, I’m so sorry—”
“How could Andrew do this? Tomasini is—”
“He’s a fucking dick,” I finished for her.
“He’s a fucking dick,” she blubbered.
We sat in the shower for so long, the hot water eased from warm to cold, giving us both goosebumps. I didn’t rush her. I let her cry as long as she needed.
Eventually the crying tapered off to sniffling and Tallulah gingerly pushed up from the cold porcelain. We were slow. We’d been sitting way too long, there were pins and needles in my knees. I ignored the pain, reaching for the towel off the counter.
Gently, I dried her off. Tallulah gazed up at me with the most heartbreaking dark eyes I’d ever seen.
“Come here, sweetheart,” I whispered, bringing her out of the bathroom.
I peeled off my wet clothes and found her favorite sweatshirt of mine in the top drawer.
That plus basketball shorts were the most comfortable outfit I could put together for her.
I shrugged on my own pajama pants, still trying to figure out what to say.
“Someone stole my paper.” She sniffled. “It’s not even that big of a contest. I don’t understand—why would someone steal it? Why would they be so cruel?”
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly, leading her to bed. “I’m sorry.”
In bed, I slid my hand under her side, pulling her on top of me. She buried her face in the crook of my neck, arms immediately around my neck.
Rat was frantic when she saw the tears. She sounded like a classic car’s engine, jumping on my chest to purr incessantly against Tallulah’s face, rubbing her head against Tallulah’s hair.
Rat snuggled in and the three of us were quiet, only the sounds of us breathing interrupting the silence.
“Nick?” Tallulah whispered, her voice raw from crying.
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to do it.”
“Do what?”
“I’m going to win that fucking profile contest.” Her voice hardened, steel replacing the tears. “Fuck. Them.”