Wednesday morning, Molly woke up puking.
After Nate had changed her bed and cleaned her up, he sat beside her, smoothing her hair back from her damp forehead.
“Are you going to take me to Mommy’s?” she asked in a small voice. “Or can I stay with Anna?”
“Do you want to go to your mom’s?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Then I’m staying home with you, unless Josh is still sick and Anna has already called in to let the school know she won’t be coming. Okay?”
“Really?” She searched his eyes. “You will?”
“I will.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “Daddy, I need—”
He barely got the bowl in front of her in time.
She was feeling mostly better by Friday morning, but Nate decided to let her stay home another day. He’d given up on his week, so when Anna appeared to announce that Jenna was sick now, he said, “If she’s okay with me as caretaker, why don’t you go to work?”
“You mean it?” Her obvious disbelief annoyed him. Did she still buy the crap Sonja had sold her about his unreliability?
“Of course I mean it.”
Nate suggested Jenna recuperate on the sofa in the living room. Molly mostly played by herself since Jenna either slept or was feverish and sick to her stomach.
He grilled hamburgers that evening and let Anna make a side dish. Watching Anna’s gentleness with her daughter and her patience with Molly and Josh, Nate wondered if he’d ever get her alone again.
And, yeah, he was being an idiot. The bug ran its course within forty-eight hours. They were almost done with it—unless he or Anna got sick next.
When Sonja called that evening after Molly’s bedtime, he told her about the virus.
“Well, thank goodness for Anna.”
Ignoring the edge in her voice, he said, “I’m the one who stayed home the last three days.”
“Why didn’t you ever do that when we were married?”
Ashamed and yet defensive, he said, “I might have if you’d had a job, too.”
After a brief silence, she suggested she pick Molly up after school Friday for their next weekend. “No reason for her to have to ride the bus.”
“Make it here,” he said without apology. “It would be a hassle for her to take her stuff to school with her.”
“She still has clothes here at home. She doesn’t need to bring anything.”
Was this an attempt to dodge seeing either him or Anna? Was that a little bit of a slur? Or was he hearing it because he wanted to?
Disturbed, he wondered if he was hoping she’d fail.
Once she’d reluctantly bowed to his insistence, he checked on Molly, who was sound asleep, and then made his way downstairs and back up again to the apartment. He rapped lightly on the door.
When Anna opened it, he asked, “Both asleep?”
“Temporarily.” She stepped into his arms. “Molly okay?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“Yeah.” He nuzzled her temple. “It’s Sonja that’s worrying me.”
Once again, she propped open the door, but they went only partway down the staircase since she needed to listen for Jenna. Nate sat on the step below her and circled her waist with one arm.
He confided his worst fear. “I’m afraid Sonja may be drinking again. Molly came home really withdrawn last Sunday.” Even his unworthy thoughts poured out, and they talked softly.
“I’ll make sure I get close enough to her to smell her breath and see whether her eyes are bloodshot before I let her take Molly on Friday,” Anna promised.
“No. I should be here, not put you in the position of having to make that call.” He frowned. “Sonja’s been a bitch lately, but she’s not really like that. Christmas day, I saw the woman I remember.”
“The withdrawal has to be awful.”
Boozing hadn’t done wonders for her personality, either, but he left that unsaid. Instead, he and Anna cuddled in peaceful silence. He was the one to stir. “I’d better let you go.”
“It’s been a fun week, hasn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” He bent his head for what he intended as a gentle kiss. But the lips that met his were slightly parted, and he couldn’t resist the temptation. Within seconds, the kiss deepened. Groaning, he cupped her breast in his palm and felt her fingers clench on the back of his neck.
“Mom, Jenna is—”
The voice coming from the head of the stairs didn’t penetrate Nate’s consciousness fast enough.
“Mom?”
Nate turned his head to see the shock on Josh’s face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JUST BEFORE ANNA leaped to her feet, Nate murmured, “I’ll talk to him with you.”
She shook her head quickly, able to tell he wasn’t happy to be excluded, but he conceded without a fight.
Anna still hadn’t decided what to say when she joined Josh on the sofa in the apartment fifteen minutes later. She’d had to clean up Jenna, give her some liquid fever reducer and sooth her to sleep while he waited. While she was doing all that, what would Nate have said to Josh? Thank goodness she hadn’t given him the chance.
Pain crawled up her neck and wrapped her head. She prayed it wasn’t the first indication that she was getting sick, too.
Josh sat with his arms crossed tightly and his expression accusing. “You were kissing Nate!”
She discarded lying—he was just holding me to be nice—and admitted, “I was.”
“Why?”
Somewhere, she found a laugh. “Nate’s a really handsome man, you know.” His appalled look made her amusement real. “We’ve spent a lot of time together this year. You know that. I suppose...we’re exploring the possibility of becoming a real family.”
“You mean, getting married?”
Anna nodded. “Neither of us has said the word married yet, but...yes. I do like him, and I think he likes me.”
Like? She loved him. Why not be honest, if only with herself?
“But...what about Dad?”
Yes, what about him? For a moment, she let herself see again how much Josh looked like his father. Then she tried to explain.
“You know it’s been almost a year since he died. That’s the traditional period of mourning.” Of course, she had to explain what she meant by that. “I loved your dad.” With reservations. “But he’s gone, and... Nate’s a pretty amazing guy, you know.” She couldn’t explain how lonely and angry and frightened she’d been in the months after Kyle’s death. Brutal honesty wouldn’t be good for any of them. She’d made that decision within days of his death. Let Josh, especially, remember the loving father Kyle had been. Chances were, Jenna would be left with no more than fleeting memories of him.
When Josh stayed silent, Anna said, “It upset you to see me with Nate.”
“It’s just—” He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Unexpected.”
He shrugged, but after a minute said, “If you married him, we wouldn’t have to move, would we? I could stay with my friends, and my team. And...I’d still have someplace to drive my boat.”
Anna’s smile was probably a little twisted, since taking out the remote-controlled speedboat was an activity he only did with Nate. “I hope that isn’t your biggest consideration.”
“And the Xbox would be kind of mine, too, wouldn’t it?” He was brightening by the moment.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, go to bed. Except...” Anna made sure he was looking at her. “I’m asking you not to tell Jenna about seeing us kissing, or what we’ve talked about. Molly, either,” she added hastily. “I may decide this isn’t the right thing for us, so don’t count on it, okay?”
“But why—”
“There’s a lot to figure out, and you’re still a kid. Just...trust me, okay?�
��
He threw himself at her and hugged her fiercely, before letting her go just as suddenly and rushing to the bedroom.
Alone, Anna sat still, closing her eyes. That had gone as well as it could have. Now if only her confused emotions would straighten themselves out—and the headache would recede.
* * *
IT FRUSTRATED NATE beyond belief to have to leave for work Saturday morning without having a chance to talk to Anna, but he felt compelled to make up for some of the time he’d stayed home this week. When he called up the stairs, “I’ve got to go,” Josh, rather than his mother, opened the door.
“Mom says okay, and can Molly come up here.”
“Does she want me to carry Jenna downstairs, instead?”
A murmured consultation, after which Josh reappeared. “No, she says she can do it.”
He gritted his teeth at the message—your help not needed—and retreated. Molly trotted upstairs cheerfully to join them, and Nate left.
Josh hadn’t looked resentful this morning. Did that mean anything?
Nate snorted as he backed out of the garage. What, was he in sixth or seventh grade, trying to read her feelings for him by another person’s tone of voice?
Jenna wasn’t bouncing back as fast as the other two, Nate discovered after getting home. The minute he appeared, Anna carried her upstairs to her own bed, accepting his offer to cook dinner. Josh took Anna a plate with a hamburger and the scalloped potatoes Nate had made from a box, returning with her thanks.
He finally went up to check on Jenna. Anna looked startled to see him, but did say Jenna was awake.
She lay listlessly against her pillow, her cheeks still flushed and the bowl against her side.
“Hey.” He sat next to her. “You don’t look so good, kiddo.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t feel good. I don’t like being sick!”
“It stinks,” he agreed, squeezing her feet beneath the blanket. “But I’ll bet that by morning you’re feeling better.”
She sniffed. “That’s what Mommy said.”
“Mommies know what they’re talking about.”
She suddenly pushed up from the pillow. “I need to pook!”
He’d had plenty of practice at whisking the bowl in place. Anna came rushing in but saw that the worst was over. The poor kid’s stomach had to be empty. Dry heaves weren’t very satisfying.
“Okay, honey,” he said, setting the bowl to the side. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Anna stayed with her daughter, robbing him of even a brief conversation. Nate had an unsettling thought: was she, like Sonja, in avoidance mode?
What he couldn’t figure out was why. They were good together. Not good, great. He liked her kids, had even come to feel...proprietary toward them. In turn, Anna treated Molly as if she were her own. He’d encouraged Anna to work, understanding her need to become solid enough financially that she could never again be left on such shaky ground.
He had to wonder if she had any idea how wealthy he was. Or maybe she did, and their lopsided financial status bothered her?
Crap. The two of them had shared so much, he’d deceived himself that he knew her as he never had Sonja or even most of his friends. This new uncertainty ate at his belief. What they hadn’t talked about were the issues that would impact them as a couple. Deliberate on her part? Or was he the one who’d been reluctant to go there? Maybe Sonja was right, and he was lousy at relationships.
Nate realized how much he hated knowing he couldn’t make Anna marry him. Hell, she wasn’t even giving him a chance to persuade her. Control had always been an issue for him, as he knew it was for his brother and his father. The insight told him why Dad had refused to take the antidepressant. He’d be ceding control to a chemical.
Nate grunted. Maybe he should call his mother and ask for advice. She’d managed to live with his father all these years. To all appearances, they were even happy.
He’d be happy, if he had a ring on Anna’s finger and knew she’d committed to him. He could trust that commitment. Then a new worry hit. Did she not trust his ability to commit? He was divorced, after all. Did this circle back to her husband’s death? Nate not keeping a promise, with the consequences that followed like dominoes toppling?
Shit. He rubbed his chest, hoping this was heartburn.
* * *
THE KIDS SEEMED to conspire to help Anna avoid a serious talk with Nate, which kept him at a simmer.
Jenna still felt so-so Sunday and Monday, making meals hurried and demanding all of Anna’s time.
The school held a patriotic assembly Tuesday evening. All the classes, kindergarten through second grade, did plays or speeches. Of course they all attended, Nate, Anna and Jenna sitting on folding chairs near the front.
He was studying the program when Anna leaned over Jenna to murmur, “Count your blessings that they divided the assembly.”
Divided? Ah—this one included only kindergarten through second-graders. Apparently, the upper grades were to be—he flipped the program over—tomorrow night. He had a suspicion both events would be interminable, anyway.
“Could be worse,” he murmured back. “What if your school was doing the same thing?”
With a glance down at Jenna, she said, “It could be fun.”
Maybe, if the past week hadn’t been so stressful.
Molly and Josh both had small speaking parts in their class’s play. She was noticeably nervous but didn’t forget her five-word line, reason to celebrate. As with the turkey at the Thanksgiving assembly, Josh said his with aplomb—and was still alive at the end.
Wednesday, Josh’s spring soccer team held a pizza and awards event at a Domino’s. Josh was invited even though he hadn’t played in a game, and begged to attend.
Nate took the opportunity to have dinner with one of his most reliable angel investors and his wife, who’d invited him several times in the past couple weeks. Anna didn’t seem to mind taking Molly along with her children to Domino’s, which, she reported when their paths crossed that evening, was lucky, because Josh spent most of the evening with his friends, ignoring the two girls and his mother.
He grinned. “Gee, sorry I missed that one.” Except he was sorry—even in the midst of a loud pizza parlor, he would have liked to be with her and the kids.
Nate realized the next day that he’d forgotten to ask about that evening’s plans. She’d have let him know if he had to fend for himself, he decided. But he couldn’t ask her to marry him while they were sipping coffee after dinner, anyway, with the kids a room away. He needed to ask her out, just the two of them, which meant getting a babysitter. Unfortunately, he hadn’t a clue where to find one, since he’d had no need since the divorce and he felt sure the sixteen-year-old neighbor girl he and Sonja had used then had a part-time job for a lot more money, if she worked at all now that she was on the brink of graduating from high school.
Brooding wasn’t the most productive use of his time, so he gathered what he needed to attend a presentation being made by a woman who thought she could hit it big with a personal shopping service. John was handling this one, but had asked for his input.
Nate’s phone buzzed before he could leave the office. Unfamiliar number, and he almost let it go, but decided he had time for a quick conversation.
“Mr. Kendrick? I’m Officer Madison Whitburn with the Seattle Police Department. Ms. Sonja Kendrick was just involved in a vehicle accident, and your name is listed as her contact.”
He sank back into his desk chair. “She’s my ex-wife. Is she badly injured?”
“It’s...difficult to say. She’s bleeding from a gash on her head, but evaluating her further is made difficult because she appears inebriated and, er, belligerent. I’m calling against her wishes, but we felt we needed to notify family members.”
“Is she being transported to the ho
spital?”
“Yes.” She explained that they were doing a Breathalyzer test now and told him where she’d be taken.
“Was the accident her fault?” He didn’t even know why he bothered asking.
“There’s always an investigation.” The officer hesitated. “Between you and me, I don’t think there’s any doubt.”
He called John’s PA to let her know he wouldn’t be at the presentation after all. Then he glanced at the time and realized Anna would still be at work, and shut down his laptop and stowed it in the case.
His life had turned into a freaking soap opera.
* * *
NATE CALLED AT almost five o’clock to tell her about the accident and that he was still at the hospital.
“If you need to go ahead and feed the kids, that’s fine. I can heat something up later.”
Anna glanced toward the family room, where Molly was playing with Jenna and Josh. She dreaded telling her the latest installment in her mother’s problems. No—that was for Nate to do.
“Is Sonja all right?”
“It appears so. She’s sloshed enough to be feeling no pain. I suspect she’ll be spending the night in jail. Do they still have drunk tanks? She punched a police officer at the scene and assaulted the other driver, who has some nasty scratches on her face.”
Anna winced. Sonja had long, wicked fingernails.
“I called her attorney, but that’s all I’m prepared to do for her.” He sounded grim. “Now that I’ve seen her, I’m only waiting until he arrives. Then I’ll head home.”
“I take it she’s not promising to go back into treatment.”
“You take it right.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Poor Molly.”
He made a sound in his throat. “I guess this confirms my suspicions.”
“Yes. Except...Sonja’s never done anything quite like this before, has she?”
“Not as far as I know. She’s falling apart.” He said even more grimly, “My fault.”
“You know that’s not true. Molly had to be your first priority.”
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