“Fuck.” I rest my head in my hands. “Jade kissed me outside of the store, but I pushed her away. I told Jade that I was dating Nadine, and she got weird.”
“You two are dating? Not just boning? Nadine made it sound like you two just hooked up a few times.” Andy’s eyes widen so much that they look like they’re going to pop out of his head. “What the fuck? Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?”
“Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything?” I snap, almost shouting. “So Nadine’s sick as hell, pregnant with my kid, and thinks I cheated on her? Why didn’t she just talk to me?”
I’m so overwhelmed that I don’t know which way to think.
I’m mad because she didn’t just talk to me like we’ve been trying to do since we became whatever we are. Or were.
I’m terrified because I’m going to be a father, and I have no idea if she’ll take me back. If I’m going to be a father, I want to be involved. It’s not ideal timing, but I can’t change that fact.
I’m fucking worried because I haven’t been there to help her through all of this. She must be scared shitless.
But she’s been through a lot, and Jade kissing me definitely didn’t look good, even it wasn’t my fault. She trusted me, even though it’s a big step for her, and she thinks I threw that trust in the garbage.
Just like I did five years ago. Just like Grant did to her before me. The realization settles into my stomach so much I think I might be sick, too. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her. But it seems like I can’t even do anything right without hurting the people I care about.
“I need to talk to her,” I say, pulling out my phone. “Right now.”
“Wait, wait,” Andy says, grabbing my wrist. “Let me talk to her first. She hates your guts right now, even though she still has some sort of feelings for you. I can hardly get her to calm down anymore. She’s fucking insane with hormones.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache come on.
“Please. Go talk to her as soon as you can. Tell her…” I almost tell him to tell her I love her, but I don’t want the first time she hears that I do to be through Andy. “Tell her I’m sorry and that all of this is just a misunderstanding.”
Andy nods, finally returning to his usual, calm state. He’s still a little somber, though.
“I’ll tell her, but I can’t force her to talk to you.” He shrugs. “But you can talk to me. When did all this shit start? You guys hate each other.”
I sigh. “It’s a long story with details I don’t think I can ever share with you.”
That alone has him pulling a face. “Jesus. I wish I hadn’t even asked that question.”
“Not my fault,” I shrug, draining my beer and refilling it.
“Shit, this is wild.” Andy shakes his head. “I can’t believe any of this is happening.”
“Trust me, neither can I.” I laugh, but in a semi-insane way because I can’t believe things have gone from great to terrible to what the fuck in less than a week.
We spend the rest of our drinks, shaking our heads at each other. He gives me some updates on Nadine, though he mostly tells me that she’s puking, cranky, and exhausted. I want to see her right now, but I know that regaining her trust, even though this is a misunderstanding and an issue of bad communication, will be hard. And honestly, trusting her to talk to me is going to be an uphill battle for me too. I love her, but I can’t live a life with someone who hides from me.
We take time to sober up with some dinner and go our separate ways. He promises to talk to her tonight or first thing tomorrow if she’s asleep when he gets home and will text me to let me know how it goes.
I head home and take Mabel for a long walk. I try to keep my mind off of everything by watching a shitty action movie, but I can’t stop my brain. I knock back some sleeping pills and pass out with Mabel curled up next to me.
When I wake up, it’s to my fire alarm screeching and Mabel jumping on me. My eyes fly open despite my groggy state and immediately start to burn from the smoke coursing into my bedroom through a crack in the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Nadine
Mom really has a sixth sense for when I’m miserable. I’ve been staying with Andy for the past two days and have hardly seen her at the bakery, but she takes one fast look at me and immediately knows something’s up behind my practiced smile. With Andy’s surprisingly comforting help, I’ve been eating more and resting. I come to work, and I’m almost myself. But still, Mom took one look at me and just knew something was up.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. My mom takes my suffering on as her own. It’s a gift when I need a shoulder to cry on, but god, I wish she could have just stayed away from me until the wedding.
“Let’s get dinner, Deenie,” Mom says. It’s not a question — it’s an order. And in the rare times when Mom is bossy, I have to follow her. “The others can cover you for closing.”
I glance at the others working on this shift. They shrug.
“Um, okay,” I nod, hanging up my apron and washing my hands.
“How about Italian?” she asks on the walk to her car.
“Sure,” I reply since I feel like I can’t say no. I hope I can handle all the smells in there.
Our drive over isn’t unusual. Mom chooses a station that both of us can tolerate, and we listen in companionable silence. I’m gripping my knees, trying to keep my hands from shaking. I haven’t been in such close quarters with Mom in a while. I feel like screaming out all of my secrets.
When we arrive at the restaurant, Gino’s, we settle in a booth in the back corner.
“Your hair looks great, Mom,” I say since I feel like I need to say something. “And your skin.”
“Thank you!” She beams. She’s gotten her teeth whitened too, for sure. “That spa that my friend recommended is great. Do you still want a facial and massage next week? God, I can’t believe the wedding is next week.”
Mom keeps smiling so widely and warmly that I do too. But the smile drops from my face when I realize that I don’t think I can get a regular massage because of the baby.
“I don’t know about the massage,” I say slowly. Is this it? Am I about to tell her?
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” I chicken out, realizing I sound lame. “I don’t want a stranger to touch me all over.”
“Massages are great, honey. They’re relaxing.” She picks up the wine menu. “And so is wine. Want some?”
“No.” I feel tension in my shoulders, starting to build. What is Mom going to ask me next? Whether I want sushi or something else pregnant women can’t have?
She gives me a look and shrugs.
“You’re tense, honey,” she finally says. “And you’ve been acting weird lately.”
“Have I been?” I ask, trying to laugh. Mom doesn’t laugh with me.
“Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” Mom pleads with me.
“Everything’s fine, really.” I keep a straight face as a waiter passes by with a plate of food that smells nauseating.
Mom’s eyes narrow as she looks at me, hard, then at the waiter who passed by, then at my boobs for some reason.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Nadine, but you really are acting strangely, and it seems like you’re pregnant.”
“What the hell, Mom!” I say way too loudly. “How…”
“I’ve been there, and you usually complain about your period to me. You haven’t in a while, even though you seem to be PMS-ing at first glance. You look a little puffy — again, doesn’t mean that you aren’t beautiful — and you aren’t drinking. Margie told me you’ve thrown up at the bakery. Your bra isn’t fitting. You’re cranky, too.”
“I’m not cranky,” I mumble, sliding down in the booth.
“And don’t pretend I didn’t hear you throwing up in the morning.” Mom’s face turns concerned. “Deenie, why didn’t you tell me?”
I sniff and take a slow, shaky breath. “I didn’t
want to distract you and ruin the wedding.”
Mom tears up immediately and takes my hand. “Sweetheart. You shouldn’t have worried about that. This is big, and you shouldn’t go at it alone. Most of the details of the wedding are settled now, besides the actual day. I got that day-of coordinator, and she’s really helped me de-stress. I’m here.”
“You aren’t upset?” I start crying.
“I’m only upset that you let yourself suffer this long.” She hops up and slides onto my side of the booth, which is thankfully facing away from the rest of the restaurant.
I cry into her t-shirt as quietly as I can, mostly in relief. She’s reacting so much more calmly than I thought she would. I pull myself together in a few moments, enough to speak.
“How did the father react?” she asks, smoothing a hand over my hair.
“He doesn’t know,” I whisper.
“Who is he? Have you been dating online?” she asks, rubbing my back rhythmically.
I’m so glad that the restaurant isn’t busy because we probably look weird, and I probably look ridiculous. Just because she’s not freaking out about me being knocked up doesn’t mean that she won’t freak out at this.
I take a deep breath. Here we go.
“Um, it’s Noah,” I say slowly, avoiding her gaze. I feel her tense a little.
“That’s a bit of a shock,” she finally says after too long of a pause.
“I really liked him, Mom,” I finally collapse into tears, hiccupping and crying again when I think about him.
I told Andy that Noah’s the father last night after he annoyed it out of me, and I’ve never seen him more pissed off in my life. It felt good for Andy to be on my side. When we were kids, we usually weren’t. But I got so scared that he would go try to do something stupid like fight Noah that I told him to calm down. I think he has. He texts me when he’s on the way home, but tonight he told me he’s getting a drink after work. He must be calm if he’s not rushing home to give me awkward advice.
“What happened?” Now she’s in panic mode.
“Maybe we should go,” I say, feeling a crying jag coming on.
Mom throws down a bunch of cash for the bread we nibbled on and ushers me out of the restaurant. We sit in her car, and I finally break down, telling her absolutely everything from my very first night with Noah all those years ago to seeing him with the woman that Andy says is his fuck buddy outside of the grocery store two days ago. I’m mortified that I’m being so open, especially about my sex life, but I need to let it out.
By the time I’m done, Mom looks like she’s going to kill someone. Someone meaning Noah. But she also has the same confused look in her eyes that Krissy did when I told her about the night Noah took my virginity. A look that says, ‘Him? Really? Doesn’t sound like the guy I know.’
“I’m calling him—” Mom starts.
“Don’t!” I snatch her phone. “Let me handle it, okay?”
She takes her phone back and puts it in her cup holder.
“Fine. But don’t suffer in silence, baby.” She kisses my forehead. “You need to tell him. Soon. He deserves to know.”
The thought makes my stomach flip. I don’t want to tell him. He’s already de-facto dumped me in his heart by cheating, but I don’t want to get the same speech when I tell him about this baby.
But I have to. I’ve run away from him too much. If he’s going to be shitty and not respect me or whatever we had, so be it. I have a great family and a great friend — and hopefully more soon. If I’ve made it through one cheating asshole, I can make it through another.
“Come on, let’s go home. I’ll make you the soup that I made myself when I was pregnant with you. It’s easy to digest.”
I sit back in my seat and fall asleep out of pure fatigue as she drives us home. I text Andy and tell him I’m with Mom, and she makes us the soup. She’s right — it’s easy to digest, and I feel full and content for the first time in ages. We curl up on the couch together with warm milk and watch trashy reality TV. I pass out yet again but wake up when my phone rings loudly.
Mom wakes up too. It’s past midnight, so who’s calling? The call goes to voicemail before I can answer it, but by then, Mom’s phone is ringing.
“It’s Joseph…” She frowns at the screen and answers. “Hi, honey. What’s wrong?”
Mom’s face goes from confusion to worry in an instant.
“Which hospital? Memorial? Okay, we’ll be there soon.” She hangs up and looks at me. “Noah’s house is on fire, and he’s in the hospital.”
God, could life stop jerking me around? I’m getting whiplash. We leap into action, throwing on bras and acceptable outside clothes and driving to the hospital. My thoughts on him have gone from, ‘I hate him’ to ‘I love him and don’t want to lose him without him knowing about this baby’ in an instant, then back again.
When we arrive at the hospital, Joseph is waiting for us in the waiting room. He hugs and kisses Mom, then gives me a hug. I feel his body shaking with worry.
“He’s stable, and so is Mabel. He had his window open, so the smoke inhalation damage wasn’t bad, but he’s got some burns on his legs and one of his arms,” Joseph explains. His eyes are bloodshot and tired looking. “He’s drifting in and out of sleep.”
Mom and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Do they know how long it’ll take for him to recover?” Mom asks.
“He should be released in a few days. The man’s a firefighter, and the time he ends up in the hospital during a fire is when he isn’t even on duty.” Joseph shakes his head, then turns to me. “In the times he’s been awake, he’s asked for you, Nadine.”
Mom and I exchange glances. What is that supposed to mean?
“Do you want to go see him?” Joseph asks.
“Sure,” I say, looking at Mom. She shakes her head a little.
“I’ll go in later. We shouldn’t overwhelm him,” she says, a heavy suggestion in her voice.
I give her a raised eyebrow. Of course, I can’t drop the news that I know he cheated on me and that I’m pregnant while he’s recovering from his freaking house burning down. What insane bad luck for both of us.
But what does she want me to do? I don’t know what to say to him that isn’t loaded with drama.
“Just be with him,” Mom whispers, nodding toward the desk where a nurse can lead me to him.
I go before I can stop myself. The nurse takes me into the room, which smells like bleach, and pulls back the curtain. My heart leaps into my throat right away, and I can’t stop myself from rushing up to him.
He’s asleep, with oxygen tubes up his nose. His legs are exposed, and covered in bandages, and so is one arm. I can tell that he’s hurting, even though there’s an IV of what’s probably pain medication in his arm. Seeing him so broken breaks me and almost — almost — makes me forget everything that’s happened between us. I take his uninjured hand and squeeze it gently.
“Nadine?” Noah rasps, his eyes opening a little. “You came.”
“Shh. Just rest.” I give his hand another squeeze. It’s nice to hear his voice, even though it sounds like he’s just smoked fifty cigarettes all at once.
“No, no… we need to talk,” he says, opening his eyes fully. “The baby. I know.”
I blink in shock and let go of his hand. He gropes the sheets, trying to grab it back. The only person who could have told him is Andy. Freaking Andy. I knew he would snitch, deep down. Maybe Noah yanked it out of him.
“Why did you run from me, Nadine?” he asks. He sounds a little loopy, but his eyes are clear enough for me to trust what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought that’s what we’re about.”
“We were about.” I step back from the bed.
“Look at my phone. Go find the text thread from Jade.” He closes his eyes and swallows. “Andy told me you saw that too, and it’s not what you think.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Please,” he says, his eyes pl
eading. He holds up his thumb, and I reluctantly put his phone under it to unlock it.
I go to his texts — yep, the top one is from Andy, and the next one down is from Joseph — and scroll down. There’s one from the woman he kissed, Jade. I open the thread and read.
“Read back a bunch. I broke it off with her before we even slept together at the cabin, Nadine. I told her I was with you, and she kissed me. My hands were full, and I couldn’t stop the kiss in time.” He coughs so hard that I scramble for a cup of water.
I look back, and sure enough, the evidence is all there.
I hope she fucking makes you happy. You never deserved me. Don’t come crawling back when your new girlfriend can’t even measure up
Noah’s response: It’s over, Jade. It’s been over for a long time. Please leave me alone.
Oh my god. The last one she sent is the middle finger emoji, followed by ‘fuck you’ in case the emoji didn’t say enough.
I find water and a straw and hold it up to his mouth. He sucks it down greedily and puts his head back down, closing his eyes.
“So you didn’t cheat on me,” I whisper. I’m embarrassed as hell.
God, why did I have to overreact like that? Trust. Trust is everything that he rammed down my throat. Trust is communicating and giving the benefit of the doubt. In a hormonally fueled, past-driven panic, I threw all of that in the garbage.
“No. I would never cheat on you because I’m in love with you.” He opens his eyes again. They’re bloodshot, but the warmth and honesty are shining through. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me, Nadine.”
“I know. I know.” I start crying, like the idiot I am. Am I crying because he said he loves me? “I said I trusted you, but then I didn’t act like it. I’m sorry, Noah.”
“Come here,” he says, coughing for another second. “Sit.”
One Night Flame Page 27
