Page 6 of Nutcracker with Benefits
“It’s not—”
“Look at you, you fancy billionaire.” Clara interrupts my protests. “If only they could see you now with your drunk granny pajamas.”
“I’m not a billionaire,” I say firmly.
“Fine. An almost-billionaire. Ooooo.”
I roll my eyes. My cheeks are burning.
Clara keeps reading. She must be almost to the end by now, and my heart rate picks up, wondering what she’ll think when she reads the last few lines.
I watch her read, her brow growing more furrowed. She darts a glance up at me, frowning.
Our gazes hold for a moment, and then Clara flashes me a smile—is it wistful? Hopeful? I can’t tell.
She snaps the magazine closed. “Okay, should we get lunch ready?”
Disappointment sinks into my stomach, but what did I expect? We’re surrounded by her family, and it’s Christmas. Of course, she doesn’t want to talk about the implications.
“That sounds great,” Whitney says. “Fritz, you have the kids?”
“Yup,” he says, barely looking up from playing with Ricky.
Whitney gazes adoringly at her husband and climbs to her feet. Uncle D and Craig rise, too. Craig tugs Uncle D’s arm and whispers something to him before heading away from the kitchen, out towards the balcony. Uncle D follows Clara and Whitney, and I planned to join them, but…
Craig stands outside, a slump to his shoulders. He should be in the kitchen with us, with his family, but instead, he’s out there alone?
Something’s not right. Is Craig upset about me and Clara?
I consider asking Uncle D, but instead, I tell myself to grow a pair and ask Craig myself. While I’m not as close to Craig as I am to Uncle D, I trust that if he doesn’t want to talk to me, he’ll tell me.
Craig glances back when I open the door. He’s got a loose cardigan on, not much to protect against the cold, so I can’t imagine he’ll be out here for long.
“Hey,” he says.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my pajama bottoms, glad I have my thick socks on.
“Are you okay?”
He shakes his head slightly. “I guess this thing with you and Clara has messed with my head.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep it simple when it’s anything but.
Craig eyes me. “That thing you said in the article. You were talking about Clara, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Craig frowns. “When I read the article, I just assumed that it was PR drivel. But with context now…”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I don’t say anything.
“It’s—” he starts and shakes his head as if to clear it, beginning again. “I always thought—hoped, maybe—that someday Clara would see the wonderful man you are and something would happen between you. Nash, you have to know that Rolf and I deeply respect you and love you. I thought you might give Clara another reason to stay longer, visit more. I’m very proud of her and of the business she’s built on her own, but I miss her so goddamn much sometimes.” He runs a hand through his hair and stares out toward the skyline.
“With or without me, no matter where Clara is, she loves you so much,” I tell him.
Craig gives me a tremulous smile. “I love her so much, too.” His gaze lands on something behind me, inside his home; I can picture the idyllic family scene, full of warmth and laughter, Fritz playing with the kids, and on the other side of the penthouse, Whitney, Clara, and Uncle D working in harmony in the kitchen.
“You know,” I say, “you’ve done a very good job of not meddling. Couldn’t you have helped me out a little? Not too much meddling, just the right amount?”
