“You might want to unplug that thing first.”
Oliver went to snap out a reply, but then his eyes followed the cord from the back of the juicer to where it was still plugged into the outlet. He scowled at Nick as he yanked the cord out. “We had rules,” he said. “Rules that were there to protect us both.”
“And I didn’t break any of them!”
Wrong move. Arguing technicalities would never help Nick’s case, but Oliver was willing to play along, just to see how far Nick would dig himself in. “All right. I specified if you started seeing anyone new that you had to let me know. I guess technically your wife isn’t new—”
“Ex-wife.”
“You two were awfully cozy for ex-anythings.”
“It’s not—”
“You lied to me!”
“Will you please let me talk?” Nick’s dark eyes flashed.
Oliver let his knife clatter to the counter. This was a bad idea, but the irrational part of him, the one that had wanted to believe Cooper too, led him to the living room again. He folded one leg underneath him as he sat on the sofa, forcing a casual facade. “So talk.”
Nick followed him, still hunched into himself like he wanted to appear nonthreatening. If only that were the problem. “Anya is my ex-wife. We have been divorced for almost eight years. We have a son, Hayden, who you met. He’s fifteen.”
“I knew who he was as soon as I saw you two together. He looks exactly like you.”
Nick smiled, but then it disappeared just as quickly, and he continued. “I told you Anya and I got married young.”
Oliver did recall that, yes. “College sweethearts?”
“And high school. She was my best friend. My dad died when I was sixteen, and she helped me get through it. I never wanted to be with anyone but her.”
Oliver reached his arms over his head to stretch. “This is all very sweet and completely supports your happy family routine at the market, so if there is a point you’re trying to make, I suggest you get to it.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “You said no personal stuff. But I saw your face this morning. This isn’t casual for you, and it isn’t for me either. I don’t know if it ever was.”
Oliver fought to hang onto his anger at Nick’s admission while a tiny bubble of hope struggled to come to the surface. He couldn’t allow himself the space to consider Nick might be feeling even half of what Oliver had. Anger was easier. “But you—”
Nick cut him off. “You’re going to walk away from me, and we agreed that you can do that, but do it for the right reasons, not because you don’t understand what you saw.”
Nick was playing with the hem of his jacket, big fingers moving along the stitching back and forth. Nothing about his posture or his gaze spoke of dishonesty.
Oliver sighed and motioned for him to continue.
“We were kids when we got married, and we were still kids when Hayden was born. I was the man, the husband. My job was to provide, or that’s what I thought. But it’s never that easy. It felt like I was never enough. I didn’t earn enough money. I wasn’t there when Anya needed help with the baby. I couldn’t give her the life we’d planned in college. I didn’t know what to do, so I got angry and blamed everyone but myself. The fire chief, for not giving me enough shifts. My dad, for not living long enough to tell me what to do. Eventually, I started blaming Anya for not being happy with what I could offer her. It was her fault we never had enough money. Her fault we lived in a shitty house in the oldest part of town. Then, one weekend, she said she was going to visit her sister with Hayden, and they didn’t come back.”
“She took your son away?” Oliver had never thought seriously about having kids. He and Cooper had always been too dedicated to their careers. But the idea of Nick’s wife taking his son away in the blink of a weekend was unsettling.
“She gave me lots of chances to work it out. She didn’t even leave town, just rented an apartment near the salon. I’d stop by when I could, but I worked a lot of night shifts, and...That was an excuse, to hide how much I’d failed them. I told her she’d known what she’d signed up for when she married a firefighter, because it was easier than admitting I’d fucked up. She said she wanted Hayden to have his father in his life, but . . .” He shifted uncomfortably. “I was angry at her for a long time. So I made excuses not to see them. And by the time I finally got over myself and tried to make it better, it was almost like I wasn’t his dad anymore. Just some uncle he had to see on holidays and in the summer. Like he was marking time until he could go back to her.”
Oliver’s mouth went dry as he listened. Nick was so subdued, and his sincerity so plain. His words weren’t about pity or covering his ass. Oliver’s own insecurities had led him to believe Nick would break his heart—and maybe Anya’s too—but the truth wasn’t nearly that simple.
“Come here.” Oliver motioned to Nick, who hesitated for a second before sitting on the couch, as far from Oliver as he could. Oliver went to move toward him, but Nick tensed, so Oliver sat back again.
“There’s more.” Nick stared down at his hands.
“What happened?”
“A couple years ago, Hayden started getting in trouble at school. Real trouble. He was talking back to his teachers, skipping classes. Anya started calling me. She was worried. He’d always been a boy, doing stupid boy stuff, but it was getting serious. It went from detentions to suspensions. He missed an assembly, and they found him in the parking lot getting stoned with some of his friends. He got arrested for stupid things like stealingPlayboysat a gas station, although he was never charged. Anya said I needed to be more involved, that he needed a role model.”
“And you stepped in?”
