Forty-two
It was their last full day. Wes woke early to the sound of Erma purring by his ear. Nadine was on her side with her arm tucked under her head. Wes laid a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose, the only part peeking out from the hair tumbling over her face, before slowly extricating himself to not disturb the woman or the cat. Or the other cat that he’d missed lying by his feet. And the one sleeping in the middle of the floor. Sidonie-Gabrielle, as always, was gone on her mysterious adventures.
He washed up, then made coffee and took it out to the garden to watch the sun rise. Last night had been quiet, as he and Nadine took advantage of their last hours in the house to go over all their clues and the manuscript, hoping to see something they missed or make a connection that eluded them that would force Daniel to accept the story’s potential. Not for the first time and he was sure not for the last, Nadine had blown him away with her sheer determination. It had been well after midnight by the time he’d dragged her away from the library table, bleary-eyed and trembling with fatigue and frustration. She’d tossed and turned for an hour in bed before curling up against him and letting him soothe her to sleep.
Wes propped his feet up on the chair and let the sun warm his face. It was going to be another scorcher, but the morning had that slight crispness that hit at the end of August, a reminder that fall was closing in. Would Nadine like to check out the leaves with him on the weekends? Go buy butter tarts at farmers markets and, more important, agree that the ones with nuts were inferior to the plain ones? Then winter would come. They could watch movies under a blanket. Go skating at city hall. All the seasons that he could spend with her lay as stopovers on their road together.
His mother would be furious. The thought came almost clinically and without the tension he usually felt. She never liked the women Wes dated, and he’d learned it made more sense to simply not tell her. He’d have to discuss this with Nadine and see how she wanted to handle it. Later though. It would be easier when he moved, which he promised himself he would as soon as he found another job. He let himself drift off into a fantasy of having his own place. It would look a lot like Amy’s, clean and uncluttered. Maybe he’d get a cat, since his mother refused to have one in the house, and he was used to having them around. He heard a muffled meow. Erma’s tiny face appeared, and he felt his heart seize when she put a black paw against the glass. Poor kitties. They’d lost Dot, and soon they’d lose their home. Brent would treat them well though.
He’d better.
Erma disappeared, and Nadine came out yawning, her hair a wavy mess and her pajamas, the only pants she ever wore, slipping down to leave a small band of skin around her hips. She shaded her eyes against the new sun. “What are you doing out here?”
“Do you want to meet my mother?” he asked.
She didn’t seem to consider this a non sequitur. “If you want, but I’d really like to meet Amy first.”
“We can do that.” Amy was going to love Nadine.
“Is that what you’re doing? Planning dinner dates?”
He pulled her down so she was sitting in his lap with her legs over the arm of the chair. “Thinking about the fall. Do you want to go to a pumpkin patch and take photos in matching cable-knit sweaters?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Is this a test?”
“Not at all.”
“Sure, if we can get hot cider after. I don’t have a cable-knit sweater though.”
“You can wear one of mine.” He liked the thought of her in his clothes and how they’d smell like her smoky rose perfume when she gave them back.
She laid her head on his chest, her fingers resting lightly on his collarbone as he stroked the soft wavy cloud of her hair. Nadine’s hair was usually more contained, in buns or ponytails or ruthlessly straightened. He was lucky to be the man she chose to let her guard down with.
“You said you were thinking,” she said. “Anything in particular?”
“Not really.” He reconsidered and decided to say it out loud. “I want to move out of my mother’s house.”
“I can see why. Are you nervous about what she’ll do?”
“Yeah.”
Nadine reached for his hand. “You’re going to be around when she truly needs you, but you don’t need to be at her beck and call.”
“It’s hard.” There were layers weighing down the two words.
“Amy did it. You can too.”
“Maybe.” Easier said than done. “I’ll think about it. When is Brent coming?”
“Eleven,” she said.
He ran a finger down her arm. “We have enough time to get some breakfast and do a tidy of the house.”
“Or hear me out,” she said. “We don’t do those things and go back to bed.”
Wes liked a neat house, but sometimes a man had to make sacrifices.He rose to his feet, managing not to drop Nadine as she squealed and swung her arms around his neck. “We can clean later,” he agreed.
***
