“No one’s ever asked me what I want.”
“And knowing you for as long as I can remember, I’m guessing you’ve never stood still long enough to ask yourself what you want, either. Figure it out, Nelie, and go for it.” Miller stood and held out his hand. Nelie let him pull her up. “In the meantime, let’s get you an appointment with Croix to keep the IRS off your back and Rica so you can start some financial planning.” Nelie forced a smile. She didn’t want more people to know. Nelie didn’t want a scandal.
Don’t be dramatic, she reminded herself. It wouldn’t be ascandal, but people would gossip about it. Behind their backs. She’d hate being the talk of the town or to be pitied as the victim. Usually, the gossip in Haven was harmless, but she knew there were a few bitter people who’d love to twist the facts and embellish the story. Nelie didn’t want that for Mrs. Hart, Gus or Suzanne. The best way to avoid any ugliness was to keep the secret a secret. From everyone.
Chapter 19
ChetstoodinsidetheGalley’s kitchen, watching her, and the noise and chaos surrounding him fell away. Her tongue peeked out at the corner of her mouth as one hand turned the cake turntable and the other worked its magic with the frosting bag. She’d pulled her blond hair back in its perpetual ponytail, but a few strands had escaped, framing her face.
Her fingers were bandage-free, and he wondered if the knife injury had left a scar. If whatever they were going through would leave a scar. Could he kiss either injury and make it all better? Make them better.
Was he a fool to be here? To do this? Probably, but he’d promised himself to respect the truth in a relationship, not what he wanted to believe or hope.
Nelie hadn’t gone to the spelling bee, as she’d promised, and she’d canceled her vacation. She’d returned about half of his calls and texts, and they hadn’t had a moment alone in weeks. She was avoiding him, and after what he’d seen last night, he knew why. His heart argued he was wrong.
She stepped away from the cake and stood, stretching her neck from side to side, surveying her work. Chet crossed the kitchen, saying, “It’s good to see you smile. I’d forgotten what it looked like.” She didn’t deny it.
“Who wouldn’t smile at such a pretty cake?” She slowly spun it, ignoring his verbal jab. “Am I missing anything?” She looked up at him with her big blue eyes, like his opinion mattered to her, and he cleared his throat.
“Maybe the happy birthday message on top?”
“Not needed. This is for the brunch after Owen’s christening.”
“Happy christening?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Eric tried that, and Andi gave it a hard pass. She just wants something elegant and tasty.”
“Then you succeeded. Too bad he’s too little to enjoy it.” He wondered which flavors she’d packed into the layer cake.
“Let me get this into the box and into the fridge and then I’m all yours,” she said.Are you?He stepped back to let her finish. Nelie winced when she picked up the full box and Chet took it from her, telling her to open the refrigerator door. She didn’t fight him. She pointed to the space on the shelf, rubbing her lower back with the other. When he was done, she hugged him, surprising him and knocking him from his mission.
He pulled her closer. She smelled like sugar, lemons, and the ever-present, underlying smell of French fries. Chet leaned his head against hers and rubbed his hand up and down her back with the heavy pressure that made her purr like a cat, but she hissed when he hit her lower back. “Sorry, my back is tender, but it’s getting better.”
She laced her fingers through his. “Got time for a cup of coffee?” she asked, pulling him behind her and heading toward the door to her apartment. He followed. Her hand felt perfect in his. Nelie seemed back to her old self. He’d be a fool to throw it all away, unless she already had.Damn, no matter how she was acting today, he had to call her out on what he’d seen. He owed it to him and the girls. She had to be all in. He wouldn’t settle for scraps again.
Chet paced as the gleaming espresso machine ground the beans. It was new, with lots of features, including an attached milk frother. And expensive as hell. Nelie reached for the mugs, his eyes riveted to the hug of her jeans, but he tore them away. There were papers scattered on the kitchen table. Chet saw some spreadsheets, a prospectus, and what might have been Hart Hotels’ annual report. “What’s all this?”
Nelie brushed him aside. “Just some financial stuff Croix wanted me to look at,” she said, turning the papers over and shoving them to the end of the table. “Do you want coffee here or in the living room?”
“Here’s good,” he said, sitting on the far side of the table. He needed the distance to get through this. “Did you hear they found a donor for Nate? One of Emily’s cousins from Madison.”
She handed him his mug. “Fitchburg, actually, and it sounds like the donation was successful and he’s improving.”
“You know more than I do,” Chet grumbled. He didn’t enjoy getting scooped. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Nelie shrugged.She didn’t trust me. Chet felt as if she’d slapped him. “Nelie, what’s happened to them is heartbreaking, but it isn’t news. I wouldn’t put their personal story in the paper unless they asked me to. To help find donors, you know that, right?”
“I didn’t think you’d care about knowing,” she said, not answering his question.
“Why wouldn’t I care about my friends?”
She blew out a breath. “Sorry. You’re right. I keep forgetting that Jackson buried the hatchet. And, I’ve been under the weather. There’s just been a lot going on.”And none of it makes sense.
“Not only has he buried it, but he’s invited me to next month’s poker game.” Nelie’s eyebrow raised, further irritating him. Jackson had the same facial quirk, and Chet always wanted to wipe it off his face. It was cute on Nelie, but not today.
“From what I’ve heard, it’s more trash talking than playing, and if the guys let London play, you won’t win anything.” Nelie chuckled, but it sounded forced, and her eyes were flat as she stared out the window behind him. He reached for her hand, stroking the back of it, and she gave him a sad smile. Now that they were alone in her apartment, she’d lost her sunny bravado.
“Are you planning to tell me what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff.”