I pull off the bottom of my cupcake and shove it in my mouth, staring at the woman. “He hit me with his truck.” Was that fate?
“From what I hear, Huxley almost hit Winnie with his truck. And look at them.”
“Don’t give the men any more ideas. Next thing you know they’ll be knocking women over with vehicles all over Pelican Bay,” Katy says, rearranging a few trays of cookies and bagels in the top row of the rack.
“Fate is fate.”
“Not when it’s vehicular manslaughter,” Katy says, wiping her eyes.
Anessa shakes her head. “Katy, how can you be such a romantic and such a cynic?
“It’s easy. First, I remember what I want my life to be and then I realize what life is actually like,” Katy replies.
The two women go back to squabbling back and forth over whether Katy needs a man in her life and I study my cupcake, hoping Nate’s cameras can’t see into my brain to figure out what I’m thinking. It would be so easy to let him take care of things, and I’ve had a few moments where that was my entire plan, but letting go is a lot harder than people realize. Being the damsel in distress looks better on paper than in real life.
I just came out of a relationship where I trusted the man with everything and he left me for another woman, literally out in the cold. There’s no way I can allow that to happen again for me or Emma’s sake. I’d love to believe Nate is the one for me, but I’m not sure if I’ve gotten better at reading people. I certainly haven’t done such a good job in the past.
But I want to be because a lot of what Anessa says rings true. I’ve fallen for Nate hard. Like way hard. He could bethe oneI see myself spending the rest of my life waking up next to every single morning. I promised the next time I dated someone I would take it slowly, but everything with him happened so fast. Nate is everything I dreamed about having in a man when I was married, and I want to stick him into our family like superglue and make sure he can never get away.
After a quick carswitch at the Pelican Bay Security office where I managed to swap cars with Nate before he saw me, I picked up Emma at daycare. Wanting to get us home for the night so I could continue on with my pity-fest. Emma’s car seat buckle is difficult, and today is no different as I work to jab the metal into the bottom connector. The five-point harness might be safer for children, but does a number on parents’ nerves.
“We’re going home to get some dinner,” I say to Emma, trying to maintain an upbeat personality. I faked it for the last few hours, sitting at the bakery and listening to the general chatter of bakery customers. The time to go came upon me quickly. I needed to leave, pick up Emma, and come home to face the fact that tomorrow I didn’t have a job to go to anymore.
And Emma doesn’t have a daycare provider. They weren’t too happy when I explained I needed a few more weeks of time off until I found a new job. There are four more days left on our contact and then I’m sure when I find a new job, I’ll need to locate a new daycare center too.
The drive home is congested — at least what we consider congested in this area — and takes longer than I’d like. This end of Pelican Bay has seen growth in the last ten years and the streets weren’t planned out to handle so much traffic. It makes even the few cars I’m sharing the road with feel like an all-out traffic jam.
Nate parked in a spot close to my building’s entrance and I park beside him. Even though he already knows I lost my job, dread still fills me. Now I have to see him in person, and he’ll want me to explain why I’m such a screw-up in person. I’ve never felt like such a loser. Why would someone as good as Nate stay with me? I’m a single mom who can’t even hold down a job.
The apartment smells like an Italian grandmother stopped by and opened a restaurant. Emma wiggles to get out of my hands and I set her down, watching her trollop away in search of toys.
“You’re cooking dinner?” I ask Nate, when he steps out of the kitchen holding a wooden spoon with red sauce dripping from the end.
He smiles, and his eyes travel me up and down. It wasn’t that he was checking out my outfit, but since he knows the drama I’ve had this morning, I’m more concerned he’s checking to make sure I have all my body parts. “I making my famous spaghetti. Extra cheese.”
He knows I love cheese. “Why?”
I don’t know why I ask because there’s a million reasons he can do something nice like this. He’s a good guy. He’s cooked meals for me before and I’ve never questioned those motives. But tonight is off. This is a pity meal and I don’t want Nate’s pity.
I don’t want anyone’s pity ever again.
“Because I’m taking care of you, Josie,” he says like the answer is obvious.
In the kitchen he stands by the stove, stirring a pot of red bubbling sauce.
“You don’t get it, Nate. I don’t need a man to take care of us. Everything was fine before you hit me.”
Let’s not forget I wouldn’t have needed the time off work if he had paid attention in the parking lot that day rather than staring at me. It’s his fault any of us are in this mess.
“Josie, I thought we were past this?”
I huff. He’s right, I thought we were too, but it’s been hiding in my subconscious, and today we’re going to fight about it. It had to happen sooner or later.
“Why are you being this way?” he asks, giving his attention back to the pot on the stove.
Isn’t it obvious? “We didn’t need your help before and I don’t need it now. I don’t get how you cooking dinner is going to solve my problems.”
Nate turns to me with an incredulous expression written on his face. “Who said spaghetti dinner had to solve all your problems? I just thought I’d feed you.”
