“What’s honor?”
“My mommy bakes cookies and reads to us every night,” Charlotte added. “Even if she’s busy.”
Shannon tried to wrap her mind around the subtext. She had no way of knowing how the divorce had played out at home. Given how cautious Adam was with his kids, she wondered if they’d ever seen him with another woman. So even though no one had said anything about her and Adam dating, she might still be a potential threat.
She kept her smile easy and her expression friendly.
“She sounds great. You’re lucky to have such a caring mom. Nicole is like that, too. Moms are the best.”
Charlotte studied her for a second, then seemed to relax. Adam watched his daughter, but under the table Shannon felt his knee bump into hers. He kept it there for a second before moving it away.
She told herself not to read too much into the gesture or the conversation. One friendly disarmament did not a relationship make. But maybe a little smugness was allowed.
Seven
Tuesday evening Nicole told herself not to panic as she pulled into the garage. The fact that Eric’s car wasn’t there didn’t mean he’d forgotten Tyler. If that had happened, she would have gotten a phone call from the day care. They wouldn’t close and simply leave her son there alone.
Maybe they’d gone to the store. Or Eric had thought this was a late night for her and had taken their son out to dinner. Although these days he didn’t seem interested in anything but surfing and his screenplay. While she couldn’t imagine him taking Tyler out, that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Because the alternative…
She grabbed her bag and raced into the house.
“Tyler? Tyler!”
“Mommy.”
Her little boy came running to greet her. She dropped her bag and fell to her knees, her arms open wide. He thundered into her. She held him so tight, she was afraid he couldn’t breathe, but for that second, she simply couldn’t let go.
“Hey, you,” she said as she relaxed her grip and smiled at him. “How are you?”
“Good. I like Ce.”
“See what?”
Tyler giggled. “That’s funny.”
“He means Cecilia. The name seemed to be causing him trouble so I told him he could call me Ce.”
Nicole looked at the petite, curly-headed teenager standing in her kitchen. While she looked harmless enough, Nicole had never seen her before.
She resisted the urge to lunge for a knife from the block, then stood and carefully positioned Tyler behind her. “Hi. Who are you?”
Cecilia pointed to the refrigerator. “Eric left a note. He knows my brother. They’re in a screenwriting class together. From what I heard, the two of them got invited to some lecture by some screenwriter guy. My brother asked if I could emergency babysit. He promised Tyler, my man here, would be in bed by eight, and I could study as much as I wanted. So here I am.”
Nicole scanned the note. It said basically the same thing and was in Eric’s writing. Which should have relieved her, but didn’t.
She forced a smile for the teen. “Thanks, Cecelia. I really appreciate you helping out like this. How much do I owe you?”
“I haven’t been here very long.” Cecelia waved her hand. “You know what? This one’s on me. I’ll leave you my number. If you want to do this again, I’ll text you some references.”
Because Nicole probably hadn’t done a very good job of concealing her horror on finding someone she didn’t know with her son.
She waited while the teen collected her belongings. There really was a chemistry textbook and a notebook, along with an iPad and headphones. She and Tyler walked “Ce” to the door.
“I had fun,” Tyler told her.
“Me, too,” Cecelia said.
Nicole fished a twenty out of her jeans pocket. “Thanks so much for helping us out.”
“You bet.” She stared at the money, then shrugged. “I won’t say no. I have expenses.”
Nicole grinned. “I’m sure you do.”
She waited until Cecelia got into her battered Corolla before closing the door.
“That was fun,” she lied. “Did you get dinner?”
“Daddy and me went to McDonald’s. I had a burger and fries.”
“The dinner of champions,” she murmured, making a mental note to make the fruit and veggie smoothie he liked for breakfast in the morning. She wasn’t sure if that was going to be before or after she killed her husband, though. She would have to play the timing by ear.
In the hour before Tyler’s bedtime, she vacuumed, then they played the tickle game. She also got through the first load of laundry. After reading him not one, not two, but six different Brad the Dragon books, she was able to attack the kitchen. She scrubbed the stove and sink until they gleamed, sorted through the crap mail that always collected on the island and wiped down the table.
Next she used her bubbling anger to fuel cleaning both bathrooms, including taking a stiff brush to the tiles in the shower in the three-quarter bath. By the time she heard the garage door open, it was nearly midnight. The house smelled of lemon and verbena. The laundry was done and put away and she was more than ready for a fight.
She positioned herself in the center of the sofa, which would force Eric to the lower, less comfortable club chairs, and waited.
He walked in, humming under his breath. When he saw her, he jumped in an almost comical exaggeration. She might have laughed if he’d tripped and hit his head, but no such luck.
“Nicole, jeez, you startled me. I didn’t think you’d still be up. It’s after midnight. Don’t you have an early morning?”
“No, that was today. I was home by six thirty.”
“Oh, I guess I got the days mixed up. Why are you still up?”
For a second she only looked at him. Looked at the man she’d married and had a child with. Eighteen months ago, she would have said she knew everything about him. That he was a nice guy. Friendly, funny, smart, dependable. She would have said he was a good father and provider. She would have said they were a team.
Their marriage hadn’t been perfect. Sure, there were times when they looked at each other as if there was nothing left to talk about, but so what? Every marriage had its issues.
She would have said no matter what, Eric would be there for her, just like she would be there for him. But she never, ever would have guessed or believed he was capable of quitting his job to write some goddamn screenplay and then leave their child with a stranger!
“I met Cecelia.”
She’d expected a little panic, or maybe some shame. Instead, he grinned. “I know, isn’t she great? I took her information so we can use her again. Tyler really seemed to like her.”
“You left him with someone I don’t know,” she said between gritted teeth. “You left him with someone you don’t know.”
“It’s not like that. She’s Ben’s little sister. I’ve known Ben for over a year. He’s a good guy. The family is cool.”
“I don’t care about the family. I care about my child and the fact that you didn’t call me or text me. I came home to find your car gone and Tyler being looked after by someone I don’t know from a rock. What the hell is wrong with you?”
He dropped his backpack onto the chair and narrowed his gaze. “Nothing. I had a chance to attend a lecture at the Writers Guild. A private lecture. Do you know how rare that kind of invitation is? Do you know who I got to meet? You were working. I would have ca
lled, but you get pissed when I interrupt one of your classes.”
“Then text me. Do something.”
“I left a note,” he yelled, his brown eyes bright with anger. “I left a fucking note. What do you want from me?”
“I want you to think about someone other than yourself. I want you to do something around here other than eat food and sleep and work on your screenplay.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, here we go.” He folded his arms across his chest, then used his right hand to motion her forward. “Come on. Let’s hear it. You’ve got a whole list of things you want to complain about. Let’s get to it.”
His complete dismissal of her before she’d said anything made her want to throw something. Or him.
She stood and glared at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that? You can pretend this is me being me, but you’re wrong. Completely wrong. You’re rarely here anymore. We don’t ever see each other. You make promises you don’t keep—like helping around the house or buying groceries. You do nothing to keep this household going. I work, I bring in all the money and I have to do almost everything around here.”
She sucked in a breath. “Sometimes you won’t even help with Tyler. He’s your son, Eric. Your child. Why won’t you be there for him?”
Eric stared at her for a long time. She watched anxiously, hoping for something that wasn’t anger. His jaw twitched, his mouth twisted. Remorse? Could she possibly have gotten through to him?
“This is all your fault,” he said quietly.
She blinked. “What?”
“You did this. You made this happen.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?”
He waved his hand at the room. “All of this. If you’re unhappy, then you only have yourself to blame. I took it, Nicole. For as long as I could. What about me? What about what I want? But none of that matters to you. You don’t care that I was unhappy with my life. You don’t care that I wanted more than what we had.”
She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d sprouted a second head and started breathing fire.
“Are you drunk?”
“No. I’m completely sober and I know exactly what I’m saying.” He took a step toward her. “Before you and I met, I’d been saving every penny I had so that I could quit my job and write a screenplay. It was something I’d always wanted to do.”
“What? That’s not true. You talked about it maybe twice the whole time we were dating. You never said anything more until the day you quit your job.”
“That’s because I knew you’d mock me. I knew you wouldn’t be supportive. Or believe in me.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. What was she supposed to say to that? Realistically, the odds of him actually selling a screenplay were tiny. But if she pointed that out, she fell into the unsupportive camp. Because Eric had a dream and nothing else mattered.
“I’m sorry you think that,” she said instead. “Eric, I want you to be happy, but I also need you to be a part of our marriage. Our family. I feel like we’re living separate lives.”
“I have to do what I’m doing,” he told her stubbornly. “This my time. My dream. You lost yours. You couldn’t make it, but at least you had the chance to try. It’s like you don’t want me to have my shot. Because what if I’m talented? You’d hate that.”
It took her a second to figure out what he was talking about. “My dancing? I let that go years ago.”
“Because you had to. I don’t. And you resent that.”
“My God, do you really think that about me?” Pain sliced through her. Could it be that they’d never really known each other at all?
“You’ve never once asked to read my screenplay.”
“No,” she said firmly. “That is not true. I’ve asked and asked. You keep saying it’s not ready. You won’t let me read it until it’s perfect. We just had that conversation a couple of weeks ago.”
He shifted and looked away. “All right. I guess that’s true.”
“You know it is. Just like you know you never really told me how much you wanted to write until the day you quit. You didn’t ask, you didn’t negotiate. You just did it.”
“I knew you’d say no.”
“Neither of us know what I would have said. What happened to negotiating? To writing on the weekends.”
“I wanted to just go for it.”
“And damn the rest of us? Where does that leave us?”
“Nowhere.” He spoke flatly, as if he didn’t care what he was saying.
She didn’t know what to say or do. They had the same argument about him quitting at least once a month and here they were again. Back where they’d started.
“You might be nowhere,” she said with a sigh, “but I’ve got a thousand places to be and a to-do list that goes on for miles.”
She was about to say that she wanted them to work as a team, to be in a marriage again, when he turned suddenly and stalked out.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” he said, before he stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.
Nicole sank back on the sofa and covered her face with her hands. She waited for the tears, but there weren’t any. Just a knot the size of Ecuador and the heaviness that came with a strong sense of foreboding.
* * *
Pam lay on the padded mat and waited for her insides to stop quivering.
“I think that was a personal best,” she gasped, barely able to raise her head to stare at Nicole.
“I second that,” Shannon called from two mats away. “I’d raise my arm in solidarity, but I don’t think I can.”
The two other women in the class simply groaned.
“Too much?” Nicole asked anxiously. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Pam heard something in her voice and forced herself to sit up. Her stomach muscles screamed in protest. Pam knew that they wouldn’t be all that was screaming come morning. She wondered if she could get in for a massage.
“What?” she asked when she was upright.
Nicole gave her a slightly off-center smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Uh-huh. A likely story. The truth was she probably didn’t want to mention it in front of her other clients.
Pam shifted to her knees, braced herself and stood. Her thigh muscles actually trembled. For a second she wasn’t sure she could stay standing.
“Lulu,” she called.
Her little dog got up from the blanket and obediently trotted over.
Pam pointed to Nicole. “Go say hi.” She looked at her friend. “Pick her up, please, and hold her.”
Nicole did as she requested. Lulu cuddled close, then reached up and licked the bottom of her chin.
Pam started for the water dispenser. Nicole trailed after her.
“Why am I holding Lulu?”
“So you’ll feel better. You obviously need a hug. Until the other clients leave, it’s the best I can offer.”
Nicole’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. Can you stay a few minutes? I would like to talk.”
“No problem.”
Pam got a glass of water and sipped it slowly. She was gratified to see the other clients walked just as gingerly. One of them pressed an arm into her stomach, as if trying to support the muscles.
Shannon walked over. “That was a killer workout.”
Pam eyed her. “Uh-huh. You obviously don’t care. How’s the new boyfriend?”
“Adam? He’s great.” Sh
e ducked her head. “He sent me flowers. Because of how things went this past weekend. With his kids.”
Pam nodded. On Monday Shannon had told her all about the random meeting on the pier. She’d practically glowed as she talked. Which was nice. Shannon didn’t tend to glow that much when she talked about her various boyfriends.
She was nearly forty and still single, Pam thought. A concept that was so foreign to her. No husband, no kids. She did what she wanted, went where she wanted, answered to no one.
Pam supposed a case could be made for how appealing that was, just not to her. She liked knowing John was coming home every evening. She liked her kids. While she complained from time to time and whined more than was probably funny, the truth was, she liked her life. Even the impending doom that was being a grandmother came with a really cool perk. Namely a baby.
“Did I tell you I know him?” she asked.
“Adam? He’s worked with John, right?”
“Yes. They’re building that hotel. It’s going to be beautiful when it’s done, but getting there is a mess. Anyway, we know Adam and his brothers and sisters, along with his parents. They’re great people. Very friendly.”
Pam nearly pointed out that Adam’s parents were much older than her and John, but figured there was no point. Her demons wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.
“I’m glad about the flowers,” she added. “He’s a good guy.”
“I’m getting that.” Shannon glanced at the clock. “I need to get back to work.” She turned to Nicole. “You made me sweat today. You know how I feel about that!”
Nicole faked a smile back.
By the time Shannon collected her things and left, the other clients were gone, too. Nicole sank down on one of the mats, forcing Pam to do the same. She tried not to wince as she wondered how on earth she was going to get up again.
Lulu immediately crossed from Nicole to Pam and climbed onto her lap.
“Tell me,” Pam said gently.
Nicole nodded, then started to cry. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook with her sobs.
The Girls of Mischief Bay Page 10