21. Nelly

Chapter 21

Nelly

“ N elly, listen to me. That’s fucking insane.”

“I know,” I sighed, shrugging off the blanket I’d brought with me outside. At ten in the evening, with Matty safe and sound asleep upstairs and no chance of Sebastian being back for another few hours, I’d figured it was safe enough to hang out on the back porch while I spoke to Rosie. If he’d felt comfortable leaving him alone in the house for an hour when he came to the guesthouse last week, then Matty was fine for twenty minutes while I spoke to anyone who wasn’t myself about the situation.

And Rosie was the only real option.

“I just don’t know what to do now,” I added.

“I… don’t know what you should do either,” she said, a hint of chuckle lilting her words. “I’ve never had an employee tell me that they’re involved with a client.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re involved .”

“No, of course not, you’re just, I don’t know, sleeping with him.” Her delivery dripped with sarcasm as she typed something, the clack of her nails against the keyboard giving it away. “Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to romantically involve yourself with the man you’re working for, Nelly?”

“In my defense, I kind of, uh, got involved with him before I was working for him,” I said, chewing on the end of my thumbnail as I stared at the hot tub on the other end of the patio table. It was so, so tempting.

“You what ?”

I wonder how you turn the jets on in that thing. “You remember that guy I met the night we went to Smokey’s and I found out about the Morris thing?”

Rosie went quiet on the other end of the line before an exasperating groan filled my right ear. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“For fucks sake, Nell?—”

“If it helps,” I interjected, leaning back in my seat and glancing over my shoulder to make sure there weren’t any little eyes or ears eavesdropping, “I didn’t know it was him until I showed up at the rink for the first meet. And the money was too good to walk away at that point.”

She groaned again, her frustration clear as she typed something else, but the sound of angry clicking over and over told me she was either backspacing or stabbing a single key in irritation. “You should have just told me then.”

“So you could give the gig to someone else? You know I needed the money,” I sighed. “And this is honestly the best situation I could have asked for, if we don’t include Sebastian.”

“Your current gig would not exist without him, so we can’t just pretend he isn’t a part of the situation here,” she snapped. I could hear her breathe in, counted in my head as she held it— one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five— and then came the exhale, heavy and long and exhausted. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just frustrated that you didn’t tell me, at least as a friend.”

I picked at a ball of lint on my bike shorts, trying to dislodge it absentmindedly. “Would it make you feel better to know that everything’s fucked now?”

“Well, what does that mean?”

I pulled my knees up to my chest, throwing the blanket I’d abandoned on the back of the chair over my legs instead. It was muggy tonight, and the last bit of spring was leaving, which would mean there wouldn’t be much of a respite from the heat and the humidity when the sun went down from here on out, but for tonight, at least, the blanket would be a comfort thing instead of unneeded warmth.

“Nelly.”

“He was horrible to me the other night after their home game,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since.”

She grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, for fucks sake .

“We spoke last night, briefly. Agreed to try to be civil toward each other for Matty’s sake. I just… I don’t know, Rosie. I don’t know if I can do it after that,” I swallowed. “The things he said, the way he spoke down to me — it just felt like I was right back in it with Morris. He asked me if I was insane, and all I’ve heard is Morris saying that exact same thing on a fucking loop in my head.”

“Jesus,” she cursed. “Did he apologize, at least?”

“He tried to when he got home that night. I didn’t want to hear it.”

She clicked her tongue a few times, her squeaking chair filtering down the phone line. “Right. Okay. So, what does this mean, then? Are you going to stop sleeping with him and just watch his kid? Can you even do that? ”

I sunk further into the plush outdoor chair. I wished I could hide from the world, from this conversation, from Matty, from Sebastian when he eventually came home tonight after his flight from Calgary. I didn’t want to have to answer that, because I didn’t know the answer.

I wanted to say yes, that I would do exactly that and just go back to being only his nanny and draw a hard line in the metaphorical sand. I wanted to say yes, I was capable of that. But every time I tried to summon the word to take shape in my mouth, it unraveled, and I was left with nothing but a sinking, worrying feeling that I’d let myself dip my toes too deep.

I’d done it again. Fuck, I’d done it again — I’d let myself base at least some of my self-worth on someone that didn’t deserve it, let myself fall a little, let myself seek comfort and guidance from someone I absolutely shouldn’t have touched. And as my mind strayed further, toward Matty and the drawing on the fridge, my chest burned at the idea of having to break his little heart and leave both of them behind.

“You can’t, can you?”

“I don’t fucking know, Rosie,” I said. “I don’t. I’ve crossed too many wires with this.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Well, if you want your boss' advice, I’d suggest keeping as much distance as you can from Sebastian and cutting the involvement off before it blows up, both for yourself and for my stellar ratings. I’ll keep an eye out for any other full-time gigs that come through, just in case you need out. Maybe a lesbian couple, so you can keep it in your pants.”

I needed a fucking pillow to scream into. I knew she was offering the right thing, but I hated it all the same. “ Okay,” I croaked. “And what if I want advice from my friend?”

She went silent for a moment, her quiet breathing the only thing on the line. I was half convinced she’d hung up by the time she spoke, and was a second away from pulling the phone from my ear. “I think you need to look after yourself. Whatever that entails.”

————

Cold.

I was so, so cold — why was it so cold?

Someone, somewhere distant, or maybe it was just quiet, spoke nonsense about the perfect net for the perfect catch on the perfect boat, but it was muffled and confusing, and I couldn’t quite make out why . Reds and blues were all I could see, little flashes of them invading my vision, and my body … it shook. Gentle, but relentlessly, I shook, my fingers and toes ice cold.

The throw pillow beneath my head was soft as could be, but it didn’t offer me any signs of warmth, even as I tried to turn my head into it.

But then the shaking ceased. All around, heat enveloped me, soft and luxurious and warm . Something far warmer pressed against my cheek, just barely, cupping the skin and brushing back strands of hair.

The nonsensical, faraway chatter ceased at the same moment the lights stopped invading the backs of my eyelids, and all at once, it was dark, calm, warm, and familiar.

So familiar.

I’m sorry.