by Devney Perry
A whole weekend of Nick.
“Oh for the love . . .” I muttered before banging my forehead against the steering wheel.
“Ms. Austin!”
“Fuck,” Nick muttered.
My eyes scanned the room, looking for the child who had just called my name. In the middle of the restaurant, Rowen Cleary was wildly waving.
“Hi, Rowen.” I waved back, overjoyed that I could use her as an excuse to get some space from Nick.
We were on date number two at the Prescott Café. Nick had been waiting for me outside the café when I’d arrived, and as soon as I had been near enough, he’d bent to kiss my cheek. I was sure the left side of my face was still bright red because my skin was on fire.
When I reached the Clearys’ table, Jess stood to greet me and shake Nick’s hand while I gave Rowen a hug.
“Hi, Gigi,” I said.
“Emmeline! Great to see you! Sorry I can’t get up.” She frowned, rubbing her stomach. “Jess has to practically lift me out of chairs these days. We couldn’t even sit at our regular booth over there by the window because I don’t fit.”
“Well, you look radiant. Pregnancy absolutely agrees with you.” Her skin was glowing and her hair was thick and shiny.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“When are you due?”
“December tenth.” She giggled as my eyes widened.
She looked like her due date was yesterday but she still had over a month to go. That baby was going to be a giant.
“Mommy, can Ms. Austin and Nick sit with us?” Rowen asked.
“Great idea, sweetie!” Gigi said. “We just got here and haven’t ordered yet. Please eat with us. It will make me feel like less of a behemoth if you take up some of the extra space at this big table.”
I felt Nick at my back. “Thanks, Gigi, but we can—”
“We’d love to!” I interrupted his protest. I took the end seat so Nick couldn’t sit at my side and touch me again like he had at the theater.
I got settled and quickly scanned the restaurant. The café had an old-fashioned diner feel. Blue vinyl booths ran along the edges of the room. A long counter with matching stools lined the back and behind it was an open view of the kitchen and cooks.
“How’s teaching going?” Gigi asked. “Is my baby girl behaving herself?”
“She’s perfect,” I said.
Rowen’s face split into a beaming smile.
I started to review the menu but looked up when Nick asked, “No pictures tonight? You don’t want to recreate the Prescott Café in downtown New York?”
“Funny,” I deadpanned. “And no. The Black Bull is just what I’m looking for.”
“The Black Bull?” Jess asked.
“Emmy is going to create a Montana steakhouse in Manhattan,” Nick said.
I stared at three skeptical faces. “I have a restaurant space in Manhattan that I turn over every year,” I explained. “We redesign and redecorate the space while my chef creates a brand-new menu. All of the proceeds go to charity and I thought a Montana-themed steakhouse would go over well. Last year, we did an old-fashioned Italian bistro and gave away three point four million dollars.”
I had always chosen authentic and classic restaurant themes. Most restaurateurs would choose something trendy, like molecular gastronomy or ramen burgers or a poke bar, but comfort foods have always appealed to me more. Large portions of simple, delicious food. Given the huge response we had gotten over the years, I knew I wasn’t alone in my desire for something unassuming.
“That’s impressive,” Gigi said while Jess and Nick looked at me in surprise.
“Thanks. This will be the seventh year my team has made the flip.”
“Which charities do you donate to?” Jess asked.
“I alternate every year but I always pick one whose main beneficiaries are children.”
“Why kids?” Gigi asked.
“My grandparents were devoted to the children of New York City and spent a lot of time volunteering at inner-city organizations. I used to go with them and found a passion for it.”
Those had been some of my best experiences growing up. I had adored my grandparents, and that time spent with them had been precious. They’d given me a different perspective on life and I tried to honor their memory with the restaurant and continuing their work.
“That’s remarkable, Emmeline,” Gigi said.
“For sure,” Jess added.
“Thank you.” I ducked my head to hide my blushing cheeks.
The restaurant had taken a lot of time and energy to get going, but each year, it became more and more successful. Outside of getting my teaching degree, it was my proudest accomplishment. I was glad to know that kids were getting hot meals and warm clothing all because I was able to convince the snobby socialites of New York that an unpretentious meal was worth four hundred dollars a plate.
“You didn’t tell me any of this the other night,” Nick said.
“You didn’t ask.”
We stared at each other for a moment until our waitress arrived and our table conversation split. While Nick and Jess were visiting, Gigi leaned toward me. “So, uh, you and Nick are what exactly?”
“Old acquaintances,” I said at the same time Nick said, “Married”.
I guess he wasn’t as deep into his conversation with Jess as I’d thought.
“Right.” Gigi grinned.
“It’s complicated,” I said as Nick nodded in agreement.
“Why’d you move to Prescott? Not for this asshole, I hope,” Jess teased.
“Uh, no.” I shook my head. Not wanting to delve into the drama that was my marriage, I told them how I’d come to find Prescott. “I graduated from NYU last spring and started looking for kindergarten teacher positions around the country. It’s actually silly how I landed in Prescott. I chose the mascot I liked best.”
“Seriously?” Gigi giggled.
“Yes, and let me tell you, there were some interesting choices. Snapping Turtles. Sugarbeeters. Blue Ponies. I wanted something other than Lions, Tigers or Bears so when I saw that Prescott had the Mustangs, I liked it and . . . here I am.” I laughed.
Jess and Gigi both laughed with me, but Nick scowled.
“What?” I asked.
“You said you were at Yale,” he said.
“I was. Nine years ago. I haven’t been in school this whole time.” I rolled my eyes. “After I worked for a few years, things changed. I went back to school at NYU to become a teacher.”
An awkward silence fell over the table.
“Sounds like you two have some catching up to do,” Gigi said, finally clearing the air.
“It’s complicated,” I repeated.
Conversation lightened as Rowen took over, telling us stories and asking questions. By the end of the meal, all of the awkwardness from earlier had vanished and we all cheerfully exited the café.
I was glad things hadn’t been uncomfortable with the Clearys. I hadn’t seen them since I had so rudely bolted from their Halloween party and was relieved they were reserving judgment.
After bidding farewell to Jess, Gigi and Rowen, I stood on the sidewalk, waiting as Nick said his good-byes. There was no escaping a discussion with Nick about date three, so I stayed put rather than disappearing to my car.
With one last wave to my student, I turned to Nick.
“Tomorrow night, I’m coming to your house. No more distractions or public places, Emmy.”
I didn’t argue about the date’s location because he was right. Plus, a private setting would give us time to talk.
“Emmeline,” I corrected. “Are there any toppings you don’t like on pizza? I’ll pick one up for us.”
“Mushrooms. Everything else is fine,” he said.
“See you tomorrow.” I nodded and walked away.
Two dates down. Three to go.
“Shit!” I yelled as I flew forward.
Since the day I’d moved in, I had been tripping on a small wri
nkle in the living room’s tan wool carpet.
Normally, I’d land on my hands and knees. But tonight, I was hauled backward by a strong arm banded around my waist.
“Gotcha,” Nick said into my hair.
Squirming to get loose, I stepped out of his space.
“The evil living room carpet fairies have been tripping me in that spot for months,” I blurted, trying to shake off how good it had felt to be pressed up against his hard chest. “I usually come in through the kitchen and avoid this area altogether.”
“Want me to see if I can stretch the carpet? Get that ripple out?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay. I just need to remember it’s there. I might replace it all with hardwoods anyway.” I took another step away. “We still have about fifteen minutes until the pizza is ready. Shall we continue the tour?”
My modern, yet rustic house was nestled into the forest at the base of the mountains. Other than a small lawn out front, the whole place was surrounded by large evergreens.
There were three levels in the house. The two upper floors sat on top of the garage and wine cellar. Outside, a set of wide stone stairs curved its way from the driveway to my front door.
“Big place,” Nick muttered as we moved further into the living room.
“It’s more space than I need but I love all of the windows and balconies.”
I had pictured myself living in a quaint Montana cabin; unfortunately, none had been on the market. So I’d settled for this place, knowing I’d be surrounded by trees instead of high-rises.
The living room was made mostly of floor-to-ceiling windows except for a wall with a huge stone fireplace. I stayed inside while Nick inspected the deck that ran the entire length of the room.
I skipped the upstairs tour so I could avoid showing Nick my bedroom. The idea of him standing by my bed was unsettling and far too intimate.
“Would you like a beer?” I asked as we entered the kitchen.
“Sure. This is quite a kitchen,” Nick said.
I went to the fridge and got myself a glass of chardonnay and him a Coors Light. “You are not wrong.”
The kitchen spanned almost the entire back length of the house, running behind the dining room and joining with the living room. Rich brown alder cabinets lined the walls. The Sub-Zero refrigerator was almost five feet wide, the gas range had seven burners, and there were two sets of stacked convection ovens. In the center was an enormous butcher-block island.
Most nights, I ate at one of four stools bordering the rectangular island. It felt too lonely to sit at my eight-seat dining room table.
“Do you like to cook?” Nick asked.
“I don’t have a lot of experience. When I was growing up, my family had a chef so I never learned. Logan and I ate out for most meals.” I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched at the mention of Logan’s name. “I’ve been trying to teach myself since moving here but it’s hit or miss.”
“Bet you’re going stir crazy up here in the mountains all by yourself.”
“A little. I miss being around adults, but I don’t miss all of the forced smiles and small talk. That scene was always my father’s. After I quit working for him, I would have stopped going to those types of events completely if it weren’t for Logan’s responsibilities.”
“What are those?” he asked.
“Logan oversees his family’s foundation. The Kendricks give huge sums to charities every year, and either Logan or the foundation’s CEO tries to personally attend the larger events.”
“Hmm.” He took a long pull from his beer.
This was miserably uncomfortable. I had decided earlier that I would take any opportunity to mention Logan tonight. Nick needed the reminder that I had a boyfriend, and if I were being honest with myself, so did I. But now that the room was filled with tension, I was rethinking my plan.
We both stood at the island in silence until the timer on the oven dinged. We ate quietly opposite one another. Nick was deep in thought and I focused on my food.
“Is that the life you want, Emmy? Chefs. Charity dinners. Money,” he asked when we’d finished our meal.
“Emmeline. And that’s the life I know. Not necessarily the one I want.”
“Okay,” he sighed.
Had I just given him permission to help me find the life I wanted?
Shit.
“Sorry. I didn’t think of picking up anything for dessert,” I said, clearing our plates.
Without answering, Nick walked into the pantry and took inventory. He emerged with his arms loaded full of supplies.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he set down sugar, chocolate chips, Rice Krispies and some other ingredients.
“Teaching you how to make one of my favorites,” he said.
“Which is?” I asked.
“Scotcheroos. They’re like Rice Krispie treats on steroids.”
For the next twenty minutes, Nick hovered by my side as he gave me step-by-step instructions on how to make a sugar and peanut butter mixture for the rice cereal that we topped with melted chocolate and butterscotch chips. It was only by chance that I had the necessary ingredients. I had gone crazy at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago then failed spectacularly at making myself cookies.
When the bars were cooling in the fridge, we sat in the living room and visited about nothing serious. I was too tired for a conversation about the past. It could wait until date four or date five.
“What do you do?” I asked, sipping my wine.
“I’m the chief at the fire department.”
“Does Prescott have a large station?” I asked, ignoring the rush of excitement I got from learning that Nick was a firefighter.
“No. I’m the only full-time paid employee. The rest of my crew are all volunteers. There’s not enough fire activity here to have a big staff. Mostly, I make sure the volunteers are up on training in case we do get a call. In the summer, we help the Forest Service with the smaller forest fires that burn too close to town.”
“Do you like it? Your job?”
“Yeah. I like the variety and I’ve got a great volunteer crew.”
“That’s good.”
“Glad you got to be a teacher like you always wanted.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
My phone rang, interrupting our conversation. Logan. I’d tried all week to get ahold of him and tell him about Nick, but every time we had connected, he had been rushing off somewhere. Of course he’d pick this moment to call me back.
“Sorry. I need to take this.” Putting the phone to my ear, I made my way out of the living room when I tripped again on that menacing wrinkle. “Shit! Damn you, evil fairies!”
“Emmeline?” Logan asked.
“Hi, I’m here. Sorry. I just tripped.”
“Do you have people over?” he asked, Nick’s laughter echoing in the background.
“Oh, uh, that’s just the TV,” I lied. “What are you doing?”
“Just pulling up to the Waldorf. I’m meeting my parents for dinner.”
“Oh.” That meant that in less than two minutes, he was going to hang up on me. Again, he was too busy for us to have a conversation.
“I really need to talk to you. Can you please call me tomorrow?” I asked.
“I’ll try. But I’m planning on brunch with Tom so we can catch up on the case. And then I’m going into the office.”
“Fine. But if you don’t call me tomorrow, I’m going around you and talking to your assistant so she can block off time on your calendar.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you want,” he said. He was distracted and this phone call wasn’t a priority.
“Good night, Logan,” I said and didn’t wait for his reply.
Our relationship was deteriorating. Or maybe I was now realizing that it already had. We weren’t a priority in each other’s lives, not like we used to be. And, aside from moving home, I didn’t have a clue what to do about it. The thought of losing him was depressing but living in the city w
asn’t an option.
Chocolate. And more wine. That’s what I needed. I walked into the kitchen and found Nick cutting the scotcheroos.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Great!” I lied. He didn’t buy it and strode right into my space, placing his hands on the sides of my face.
“No lies, Emmy.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. The second his lips connected with my skin, all the muscles in my body tensed.
That touch was painfully familiar. I remembered every one of Nick’s caresses and kisses from Las Vegas. Back then they had meant the world to me, but now they hurt my heart.
No matter how much I hated it, I was still drawn to him. Our connection was magnetic. The stronger I pushed it away, the harder it pulled back. We needed more distance if I was going to come out of these five dates in one piece.
“Please. Don’t do that,” I begged.
His forehead rested against mine for a brief moment before the heat from his body was gone and my face was freed from his grasp. Taking a large scotcheroo from the pan, he said, “See you tomorrow.”
I stood on the porch and watched the taillights of his massive red truck disappear into the trees.
Another date done and I was still without answers. It had been a mistake not to press and wait for tomorrow, because tonight I’d felt a shift.
Maybe I didn’t want an explanation. Whatever Nick had to tell me might make me hate him all over again.
And deep down, I dreaded that thought.
“Three dates down. What does he have planned for the next?” Steffie asked.
“I’m not sure. He just said, ‘See you tomorrow,’ before he left.”
“You can make it. Stick it out through these last two dates. When you know more, you can start making decisions.”
I’d called Steffie for advice not long after Nick had left. Other than Nick and myself, Steffie was the only person that knew every sordid detail about Las Vegas. I had been so broken that she’d had to practically carry me through the airport the morning he’d left.
“You’re right. I can endure two more evenings with Nick.” I can endure. I had been enduring for a long time.
