Page 42 of The Tomorrows After You
“Can you believe her?” Katie scowled at one of the women to her right. “I get it, you worked in media, whatever.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I mean, it’s kind of nice tohavethe additional help…”a younger womanoffered.
“Are you taking her side?” Katie accused.
“Aren’t we all working on the same side?” the gentleman asked.
As Katie began to protest, Nicolette swept back in. “You aresucha doll, thank you. I will send you the pitch story by tomorrow morning at the latest!”
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her and it was hard for me to hide my smile when she sat down, ignoring everyone’s stares. She took a long sip of beer, letting it land back on the bar.
“We’ll be in the Sunday edition of the Huntington Herald. I need some high-quality photos from last year, please.”
One of the guys high-fived her.“How the heck did you get that done so fast?”
Nicoletteshrugged.“One of my old co-workers from my internshipisthe associate news director for AB Media, which owns all the newspapers in the tri-state area.”
The pleased smiles were hard to ignore and even though I had no right to be, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t proud of her.
As the eveningworeon, a strange sense of homesettledin. I neverhadthe chance to feel like an adult, to drink, legally, with friends, and feel somewhat of agrown-up.I’dspentmy twenty-first birthday in prison. And by now, all my high school and college buddieshadmovedon. Married. Kids. Something I was unlikely to ever have. A pangresonatedin my gut when Ithoughtof all the lifeI’dmissedout on.
I had never welcomed boring conversation more than when Nicolette and I played a little game of tag with our eyes, stealing glances at one another but unwilling to get caught staring.
There was an unease to the comfort I was settling into and I wondered how much of that wasmegetting back to my life and how much of it was Nicolette, making mewantto get back to my life.
As Iwatchedher, casually listening to her committee members, Istudiedthe way the dips and curves of her neckarchedwhen shethrewher head back. Golden strands of hairdancedover her shoulders and the urge to pull out that ponytail and weave my fingers through itgrippedme.
Shut that down. You’re her landlord and she’s leaving.
It felt wholly unfair. I spent ten years sitting still while life went on without me. The idea of watching Nicolette walk away from Godot, probably forever, felt like I was getting cheated. I wanted to be near her and it felt refreshing to admit that to myself.
Her back leaned against the bar when I sidled up next to her. Her elbows rested on the oak surface behind her. Leaning over the bar, I let my shoulder brush against her arm. Small goosebumps appeared on her forearm.
“Seems like youfounda nice little niche here.”Inoddedto the rest of the committee members.
Nicolettegaveme a sarcastic glare.“It’s amazing what people don’t know they don’t know.”
“Still,” I gazed up at her through a few strands of hair that fell in front of my face. “It’s generous you’re doing it. I can’t imagine you’re getting much out of the Field Days committee for your big drug story.” She stiffened slightly, gazing down into her near-empty beer bottle.
Unspoken wordshungon her lips like icicles. Her jawmovedup and down. Her lower lipwasstill damp from her last sip and Iresistedthe urge to swipe it with my thumb. Sherotatedtoward me and her eyesliftedto mine.
“You’re going to have to pick up a copy of the Huntington Herald at the grocery store, though,” I said, trying to ease thesimmering tension that had thickened. She quirked an eyebrow up. “They had some of the worst, most aggressive reporters.” I shook my head at the memory of the gossip columnists camped on my lawn. “I forbid the mailman from leaving any of their rags in our mailbox.” I offered a chuckle but Nicolette’s face paled slightly before twisting her lips into a forced grin.
I chastised myself, hoping I hadn’t offended her. “I didn’t mean—”
“Hey, did you eat?” she interrupted me.
Ishookmy head.“Grab a pizza on the way home?”
Shesmiled, the tension from moments agomeltedoff entirely.“If we hustle, we can catch the repeat ofJeopardy!and see howaggravatedBrennan gets when he can’t answer the pop culture references.”
I couldn’t help but warm with the familiarity in her voice. As Imadea quick round of goodbyes, I could tell Katiewantedto talk more. But I didn’t give her the opportunity.
Thehushedwhispers and wide eyes thatfollowedNicolette and I leavingtogether didn’t go unnoticed. It would cause the rumor mill to startswirling. Wespilledout into the cool, late spring nighttime. Ipulledthe passenger door open before sheclimbedinto the seat.
What would people say? What would they think?
As shepulledthe seatbelt across her body, almost in slow motion, no part of me could muster the concern to care.
