Page 79 of Backslide
She can feel it like a fact.
And in that moment, Nellie knows, she is done withallof this. Has already mentally moved on to the next thing. Ready for her new life to start, now.
Will she be able to move forward here with Noah? To find that new life in New York? Will he even want her to?
“I’ll Be Missing You” plays on the stereo like a sick joke.
And, as she watches her boyfriend, she wonders if they are both already gone.
17NOAHTODAY
Dinner is a subdued event, mostly because the crew is already halfway to hungover.
Anticipating the group’s exhaustion after a long day of wine tasting, Cara has arranged tonight’s festivities at the farm-to-table restaurant on property. Everything has been sourced within mere miles. There are gem lettuces, squash blossoms, red wine reductions, and slices of steak so tender they melt on the tongue.
Nell huddles at one end of the long wooden table with Sabrina and Rita, who both look a bit worse for the wear. At least Sab seems to have returned to her usual warm self instead of ignoring me. She waved when she walked in and now she keeps sneaking peeks at me and winking.
Maybe she’s still drunk.
Nell, looking relaxed in an oversized jean jacket and another floral dress, is avoiding me altogether.
Eye contact. Physical contact. Contact sports.
You name it. She’s avoiding it.
Despite all her thoughtful planning, Cara herself didn’t even make it to dinner, apparently having majorly overdone it on the winery tour. I can only imagine how much so if she’s skipping her own event. Ben is tight-lipped about her state, but it is clearly no bueno.
She has tomorrow to recuperate and then it’s un-wedding day.
So, mostly I get to hang out with Ben, which is actually what the doctor ordered for me. It’s the most chill. We ate some pretty outstanding radishes with butter and sea salt and braised short ribs as he ribsmeabout working for the Dodgers (he’s a diehard Yankees fan). He asks me how I can show my face as a New Yorker, but then—as always—has a million questions about the players I’ve met and worked with.
As the others start to disappear back to their rooms, Nell included, giving us more cover, I ask Ben how things are at home.
“Good!” he says. But then he frowns. “Okay.”
Ben is always the most positive, so I take his frown seriously. “What’s up?”
He runs a hand through his hair and rests his forehead in one palm. I realize he looks pretty stressed out.
“I’m really tired,” he says.
“I’m sure.”
“No, butreallytired.”
He and Cara have two kids under five, so I guess that’s to be expected. But he looks beat, even for that.
“Don’t get me wrong, the kids are great—except when they’re not. But it’s a lot. And lately…”
He hesitates, so that I start to imagine he’s going to confess something truly bad. Lately he’s been thinking he can’t take it anymore? Lately he’s been thinking about other women? Lately he’s joined a pickleball league?
None of that would be in character, but I am loyal to my best friend for life. We are ride or die. So, whatever it is, I’m here for it.
“Lately, what? You can say it.”
He sighs, tracing the grooves in the table with his finger. “I feel like an asshole saying this out loud. It feels so disloyal.”
“Okay… no judgment. Promise.”
