by Jenny Hale
“I’ll take you,” she said, swinging her handbag into the top basket of the cart, her cell phone and lipstick flying out of it and hitting the floor. She bent down to retrieve the fallen items and dumped them on top of her handbag along with the shopping list. “Could you stay with the cart for a second, please?” she asked Nick. “The bathrooms are over there.”
“Certainly.” Nick walked around to the front of the cart and stood. Abbey ran off with Max, weaving through the crowd.
It took ages just to get to the bathrooms. When they did, Max shut himself in a stall and it was taking him forever.
She took a minute to look at herself in the mirror, and she played with her hair a little under the harsh fluorescent lights to try to keep the frizz from showing too much. Leaning forward, she had a good look at her face. With her fingers, she wiped a little runaway mascara from below her eyes. She turned away from her image just as Max opened the door.
“Done!” he said, and he came out. She helped him wash his hands.
When she and Max came back, Nick was standing at the cart, a smile playing at his lips. Abbey gave him a suspicious look and waited for an explanation.
“I got almost everything that was on your list,” he said, still smiling. Why was he looking at her that way? He held up her phone. “Your friend, Adrienne, says you can bring a date tomorrow.” He turned it around so she could see the messages that had floated onto her screen. To her horror, there were a few more that she couldn’t read because he was holding the phone too far away. She swiped at it, and he playfully held it out of reach—only briefly though, and then he held it out to her.
When she read the messages on her screen, embarrassment hit her face like a bolt of lightning. She read them one after another:
Don’t forget you can bring a date tomorrow.
Bring the hottie millionaire! I dare you!
I’ll bet you wouldn’t ask him anyway.
“So,” he said, still smiling playfully at her. “Who’s the ‘hottie millionaire’ you’re hanging out with?”
He was baiting her, and he knew it. He knew that there weren’t any other millionaires in her circles. She stood mute for a moment, already thinking of ways to torture Adrienne when she saw her tomorrow. He leaned in for an answer and she focused on his gorgeous eyes.
“You know,” she said. “Just someone I met at the… furniture store…”
“Mmm,” he said, nodding.
“Millionaires have to shop at furniture stores too, you know,” she teased, her heart pounding a hundred miles an hour at the sight of the affection on his face.
“Not the ones I know. We hire beautiful ladies to do it for us. What kind of millionaire is this?”
She tried to hold in her laugh but it came out anyway. “Clearly a hot one,” she said through her giggles. “…according to my friend, Adrienne.”
“How would she know unless you told her?”
“I can’t help it if I find millionaires who shop at furniture stores attractive.”
“Then I’d better find one quickly,” he said, looking around. “What do I still need? A new desk…?”
She laughed again.
“So, are you going to take him to the party?”
“He wouldn’t want to go,” she said.
“Says who?”
“Me. I know him too well,” she said, trying not to give away her growing fondness for him. “He will probably be working. I wouldn’t want to distract him,” she said with a sly smile. “Now do we have everything we need?” She didn’t want to admit to him that, even if he agreed to go with her, Adrienne had only been kidding, and if she actually showed up with Nick, her friend would probably die of nerves trying to entertain him. But the way he was looking at her was making her think that he wanted to go with her. Max was waving his hand under the lights of the vegetable shelves, trying to turn the little misting sprinklers on. “I think they’re on a timer,” Abbey told him, trying to divert Nick’s attention.
“Are you worried I won’t enjoy myself?”
She thought about what it might be like to be with a bunch of very rich people, eating food she didn’t recognize, talking about things she’d never experienced in her life, and then imagined it the other way around.
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
“Why?”
“I’m afraid you won’t have anything in common with them.” She began pushing the cart toward the bread aisle to get the few remaining items that weren’t on her list. Max jumped on the back of the cart, taking a ride.
“You and I don’t have a whole lot in common—apart from the fact that we both play piano, mind you—and I enjoy being with you.” She remembered the day that she’d played “Chopsticks.” It seemed like ages ago.
He’d been kidding just now, but one fact hung in the air between them. He’d admitted to enjoying being with her. He must. Why else would he be hanging out at the grocery store with her and her son? She reached the shelf with the dried stuffing and grabbed a bag. Didn’t he realize what he was doing? He’d said he didn’t want to get her hopes up but he was.
He’d flat told her that he didn’t want the kind of future she wanted and she wasn’t in any position to play games. He had to be careful about the relationships he was building because, if he didn’t want a family, eventually, he’d let them down.
“I’m not trying to persuade you,” he said. “I’m not going to invite myself. I’d never put you in that position. I’m only kidding with you.”
She smiled.
She still hadn’t given him an answer when they’d checked out, and it was clear that Nick knew there was a reason. She was falling for him, and it scared her to death. He pushed the cart full of bags while Abbey grabbed Max’s hand. The ice had gotten really bad since the sun had gone down, the air so frigid that it made her skin hurt. She picked up the pace to get Max back into the heat of the car.
The car ride was quiet, Max clearly getting tired. Abbey had a lot on her mind. She had a millionaire in her old, dirty car, and he was coming to her apartment. He hadn’t followed her in his car. How was he planning to get home? Would someone come and get him? He surely wouldn’t plan on staying. She didn’t have a guest room…
It took Abbey a minute to register what she was seeing once they pulled up at her apartment and parked. Nick had gotten out of the car and was standing outside, a ton of grocery bags in each hand. Max was standing beside her, looking up at the building with her. Before she could say anything, her neighbor, an elderly woman named Ms. Johnson, came out with a small suitcase.
“There’s no power,” Ms. Johnson said. “It went out a while ago—the ice got to the power lines—and it’s freezing inside with no heat. With the big storm coming, I wonder how long it will take them to fix it. The newsman said it could be up to a week.” She shook her head. “I’m going to my daughter’s house for the time being.”
Abbey was unsure of what to do next. She had all the food for Adrienne’s party that would have to be refrigerated, and now, her refrigerator wasn’t working; she had electric heat in the apartment, so that meant no heat; it was dark outside—no lights. She wondered if her mom had enough room in her fridge for all the food. She and Max could sleep in her old bedroom.
She turned to Nick who was typing like crazy on his phone. “Richard will be here in less than five minutes,” he said, still looking at his phone. “He’s in the area running errands anyway. Tonight’s his late work night.” Nick read what looked like an incoming message and then typed again. Finally, he looked up. “We can put all of this in my refrigerators at home. You and Max are welcome to stay at my house if you’d like until the power comes back on. You might as well pack a large suitcase for the both of you and we can move Caroline tomorrow. There’s a large flashlight in the trunk of my car. We can use it to pack you up once Richard gets here.”
A shiny black Lincoln town car pulled up, and Abbey spotted Richard in the driver’s seat. He must have been closer than he thought. M
s. Johnson, who had been opening the door to her own car, stood gawking at the Lincoln, not bothering to realize that she’d stopped still, her mouth slightly open, her eyes roaming the gleaming surface of it. Abbey looked back at Nick. She thought about all those bedrooms, the fresh, clean linens, the space. At her mom’s, they’d be tight. She probably didn’t have room in her small refrigerator for all of the things that Abbey had bought. Staying at Nick’s would be easier.
“Can we stay at Nick’s, Mama? Please?” Max asked, his eyes pleading.
Abbey looked up at Nick. He had curiosity on his face again. “I suppose so,” she said.
Richard put the window down as Nick approached the car. “Would you wait here a few minutes please, Richard? I’m going to go inside with Abbey and help her pack. Keep the car running,” he said as he popped the trunk and grabbed the flashlight. He put the groceries in the trunk. “The food back here will go in one of the refrigerators in the kitchen when we get home. And have a few of the guys get coolers out of storage and pack up Abbey’s refrigerator and freezer in her apartment for her. I’ll have her leave you a key.”
I can’t believe this is happening, Abbey said to herself while they climbed the stairs. What in the world would she and Max do all night in that huge house with barely enough time to think through her packing? Would Nick feel like he had to entertain them? Would she feel guilty pulling him away from his work again? She felt uneasy at the thought as she fumbled to unlock her door in the dark.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time they’d packed, arrived at Nick’s house, gotten in and settled, and she’d given Richard her key to the apartment, it was after eight o’clock, and Max was really tired. She’d tucked him in to bed upstairs in the bedroom that she’d decorated with the framed picture, and met Nick back downstairs.
“Is he asleep already?” Nick asked.
“Yes. He must have been exhausted.”
They stood together in the open entryway, the silence of the night surrounding them. The staff had all gone home, and there was no one else there.
“You were quiet tonight. Would you like to tell me what’s been bothering you?” he asked.
“Let’s go into the ballroom and sit,” she said. She started toward the ballroom and he followed.
He sat down beside her and turned toward her, concern on his face.
“You’ve been spending time with both of us—me and Max, and I really like having you around.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“You’re going to Daddy Day for Max,” she said. “It just makes me worry. He likes you.”
“It worries you when I reach out?” he said.
Abbey sighed, wondering if she was making too big of a deal out of things. “None of this is your fault. It’s my problem. I’m just protective of Max.”
He looked at her for a long while and she waited with anticipation for what he had to say. “What are you afraid of?”
Her nervous energy was getting the better of her. She didn’t want to say it. She got up and walked over to the piano and tapped a few keys. He followed and sat down beside her. She looked up at the mistletoe above them but his eyes were on the keys and he hadn’t noticed. Her fears were mounting and she didn’t want to say what she was going to have to tell him.
“I’m afraid he’ll fall head over heels for you, and he’ll have to experience what it’s like to not receive that affection in return.” She was speaking about Max, but thinking, too, about herself. “I feel like things are moving quickly. He’s just asked you to do something very personal—his Daddy Day at school—and you’ve accepted. I don’t want to take things this far without any promise that they’ll continue.”
Nick’s face dropped in contemplation, and he put his hands on her arms, rubbing back and forth to try to soothe her. “I’m sorry,” he said in a quiet whisper. “I was just excited. You forget that for a while now I’ve been by myself too. I’m not used to having to think of others before I make decisions. I just said yes because he asked me and I didn’t mind going. But he’s your son. I should’ve put him off until I spoke with you. I promise to do that next time.”
“Thank you,” she said, relieved and interested at the same time. Next time?
“Can I get you anything? A glass of wine?”
“That sounds nice.” She took in a deep breath to settle herself. “And I still have to make the casserole and pinwheels for Adrienne’s party.”
“I’ll help. Let me show you where the ingredients are.”
He led her down the hallway to the kitchen, which she’d seen but not spent much time in. She entered the room and was floored by the number of cabinets that ran along two of the walls. There were so many that they almost looked like walls of paneling. Nick opened one that stretched nearly to the ceiling, and to her surprise, hidden behind the cabinetry was a refrigerator.
“Your cold items are in here,” he said, shutting the cabinet. There were so many that she hoped she could remember which one it was. He opened another cabinet. “Your other things are here.” He closed the door. “Let me get you that glass of wine.”
She tried to see if she could find any trace of obligation in his face but all she could see was kindness. “Thank you,” she said.
“Is red okay?”
“Yes.” She watched him retrieve a bottle from the wine cooler and uncork it. He pulled two glasses down from the cabinet, filled them over halfway full, and handed one to her.
“So,” he said before taking a quick sip of his and setting it down on the gigantic marble countertop. “What are we making tonight?”
“Sausage casserole and pinwheels,” she said smiling.
“I’ve never had either.”
“And you’d like to help me cook?” She had no idea if he was just being polite, what plans he had for the night, or if he had work to do, but since he was standing in the kitchen with her, drinking a glass of wine, she figured it was probably okay.
“Definitely.” He took another drink of wine and then unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves. He rolled them up just under his elbows and turned on the water at the sink. It was more than a sink. It was a huge basin made of some sort of ceramic or porcelain—she wasn’t sure. It was bright and shiny, the faucet a gleaming silver. She set down her wine and joined him.
“You know, this room could do with some decorating too,” she said, looking around as she washed her hands. “Maybe put some fresh flowers here on this ledge. Hang some greenery along that doorway for Christmas…”
“It’s fine,” he said with a smile.
Toweling off her hands, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out the vegetables. “I’ll need a knife and a cutting board,” she said. “You might actually do something other than work if you had your home the way you like it.” She grinned at him to let him know that while she was serious, her comment was lighthearted. “If there was no work at all, what would you do? Read? Watch sports? What?”
As Nick retrieved her supplies, she rinsed the onion under the water and shook it off.
“I’d probably…” He fell silent.
She waited, hoping he’d come up with something. “You don’t know?”
“It isn’t a reality. I’ll always have work, so it doesn’t matter.”
“We’re going to need to dice this onion.” She chopped the ends off and set them aside. Then, she began to cut large rounds of onion, her knife rocking back and forth over the rounds to dice them up. Her eyes were stinging, starting to tear up, and her nose was getting sniffly. “Sorry. I get like this when I have to chop them.”
Nick handed her a tissue from a silver container. She wiped her eyes.
“Let me give you a break,” he said, walking around the counter and standing beside her. “What’s next?” He handed her wine to her.
“We need to brown the sausage,” she said. “And we haven’t finished discussing what you would do if you weren’t working.” Being with him like this felt natural for her.
; “I’d… play piano, I suppose. I haven’t thought about playing piano in a long time. Not until you came.” He got out a stainless steel skillet and a spatula. “These okay?” He was smiling, his expression and her exhaustion making the wine go to her head faster than it should.
“Perfect.”
He put the skillet on one of the eight burners he had on his stove—the giant trapezoid-shaped hood on top of it was probably the size of her car. She retrieved the sausage and handed it to him. With a sizzle, it began to cook in the pan the minute he put it in.
“The house is coming along nicely,” he said, stirring the meat in the pan. The spicy smell of it saturated the air around them. Watching him cook, she’d never know that he had people who prepared meals for him. He looked like he’d handled a pan and spatula before. “What’s left on your decorating list?” He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and turned to face her.
“Well, I have painters for one of the bedrooms coming tomorrow. I have to finish the exterior. I’m planning to put some white lights outside. There’s the informal living room, and then the bathrooms and hallways. I also have to make sure the bar in the ballroom gets finished and is all set up for your party… You know how to cook,” she pointed out.
“Yes.” He looked at her, perplexed.
“I didn’t know you could, since you have someone cook all your meals.”
“Oh. That’s just because I’m busy. I don’t have time to cook.”
“But you are now.”
“Like I said. You distract me.” He grinned at her.
“Well, maybe that’s because talking to me and cooking are more fun than working. Maybe I don’t distract you, I just shift your focus.”
“The work won’t get done by itself,” he pointed out.
“But it also doesn’t need to be done right now, does it? It’s late.”
The ground sausage behind Nick popped and he turned around, picking up the spatula and stirring it. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his face, but she wanted to see it. He stirred in silence until, finally, he set the heat to low and put down the spatula. Then, he turned around, his face serious but gentle.
