Someone spoke in the background again, presumably Eric.
“I would love to do something this weekend. I still haven’t repaid you for cooking for me. I’m not much of a chef, but if I cheat, get takeaway, and assemble it on a plate, does it still count?”
I smiled. “I would love for you to assemble dinner for me.”
“Excellent.” I could hear the smile in his voice, almost like my smile.
Nick’s voice became muffled, as if his hand was covering his phone, but their conversation was too low to make out words. Then the voices got a bit louder. “…then just tell me who it is?”
Then Nick’s muffled voice. “No one. It’s no one, okay!”
No one.
A horn reminded me to pay attention to the road. I changed lanes and indicated to turn into my street. As I parked, I realized Nick was still talking to me, but I hadn’t heard anything over the buzzing in my ears.
“…but which would you prefer?” There was no background noise now on his end. He had asked me a question, but I had no idea what.
No one. It’s no one.
“Umm, I don’t mind. Either… I mean…” I took a deep breath. “Sorry, I have no idea what you were just saying.”
“Oh, I was walking outside. Maybe the receptions not so good. I’m not sure how much you missed.”
I wanted to brush it off and just ask him to repeat the question. I knew I was overreacting. Instead I whispered, “Everything after you said I was no one.”
I heard his sharp intake of breath, and I closed my eyes, laying my head back on the headrest.
Then nothing.
I shouldn’t have said it. I should have let it go.
“Baby,” he breathed. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I felt like an idiot for making it sound like a big deal. For sounding needy. I hated sounding needy. And I wasn’t usually a drama queen. So why did my mind freak out whenever I was around him?
“It’s fine. Don’t worry. What was the question you were asking me? I didn’t catch it.” I tried to make my voice stronger, more upbeat.
“Please don’t do that.” His voice was still soft but firm. “Don’t say it fine when it’s not. I didn’t mean you were no one. Please believe me.”
I swallowed.
“Baby?”
I took a breath. “I believe you.” And I did. I knew I wasn’t no one to him.
“I’m sorry if it sounded like I was dismissing you. I wasn’t. Eric has been nagging me for a few weeks about why I was smiling. Apparently, I don’t do it often. He broke up with his girlfriend this morning, so I didn’t think it was the right moment to be gloating about how amazing my boyfriend is. I wanted to shut him up so I could talk to you. I’m so sorry, Ky. I really am. I hate I made you feel that way.”
I felt myself smiling, truly smiling. I was still sitting in my car, just grinning down at my lap.
“Ky? Baby?”
Through my smile, I managed to say, “Boyfriend?”
“Well, yes. I mean, I thought that’s what you are. I know I overreacted to that word before, but I realised how much it fits and it felt good to think of you as that. Perhaps I jumped the gun. Should I have asked you first?”
“No! Yes. I mean no. Jesus. No, you didn’t need to ask me before calling me that. It was just the first time I had heard you use the word, and it felt kinda nice.”
“I wish you were here. I miss you.”
“Mmm. I wish I was there too.”
“I know we’re having dinner on Saturday.” The anxiety left his tone. “But could I see you on Friday? I have a few things on in the morning with some new contractors, but I should be able to wrap it all up at a reasonable hour.”
“And what were you thinking of for Friday?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not sure.” He paused, thinking.
I laughed a little. “I honestly don’t care what we do. I only asked because I was trying to prolong the conversation. I love your voice. And that accent. It just… I just…” I sighed
He chuckled. “Baby, I don’t have an accent. You, on the other hand, sound so bloody sexy it should be illegal. I could sit and listen to you for hours.”
“I really should go. I have been sitting here for a little while, and it probably looks like I’m casing the place. Call me tomorrow when you’re free. Okay?”
“Okay,” Nick agreed. “Baby?”
I had never been huge on pet names or endearments. But God, when said in that voice...
“Yeah?”
“I am truly sorry.” I could hear the regret in his voice. And perhaps worry.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m really fine. Really. I was being an idiot, but even with that, I believe you didn’t mean it. It’s forgotten.”
“Okay.” He didn’t sound so sure.
“I mean it. Now you need to hang up because otherwise I am going to sit here listening to your voice, and at some point, my neighbours really will call the police. If for no other reason than I have been sitting alone in my car for the past fifteen minutes smiling at my lap.”
That earned me a genuine laugh, and we said good night.
Chapter Ten
We spent the next week texting and talking but unable to find time to get together. After Nick had to pick up some extra meetings, our plans fell through the following weekend, and things had gotten hectic for me at work. I re-interviewed Aimee and Bailey’s uncle Jeff. And as much as it pained me to the centre of my soul to say it, I agreed with Grayson. There was a “vibe,” for want of a better term. Not exactly court-admissible evidence, but I knew we had something. I wasn’t sure if he had hurt the kids or knew more about their disappearance than he was letting on, but I felt uncomfortable in his presence.
Every night without fail, Nick and I either texted or called to say goodnight. He was sweet and funny, and I was, well, me, so an idiot. Not that this should have come as news, but even when he was sweetly texting to ask how I was feeling, knowing I had been at work since three o’clock that morning or checking if I had eaten something and was looking after myself, I still managed to make a fool of myself.
I decided to call just to hear his voice before I went to sleep, but it went straight through to message bank after only ringing once, even though we had been texting all of three minutes ago. I called again. Same result. Then my phone beeped with a text saying he couldn’t talk. For all of two seconds, I wondered where he could be on a Wednesday night at eleven PM. Where had he always been on a Wednesday night? The Subway Station. And because my brain worked at a slightly slower cadence than my texting fingers, I asked him.
It’s Wednesday. Are you at Subway? Is that why you can’t talk?
No response.
Hello?
No response.
Fine. Goodnight.
After taking my frustration out on my pillow, which wouldn’t stay in the exact shape I wanted, I stared at the ceiling. Eventually, my fatigue-soaked brain caught up. I reached for my phone again and stared at it for a moment before sending another text.
Sorry. Ignore me, I’m tired. It’s none of my business where you are. Just tired. Not that makes it okay to be a dick. Sorry. Text me when you can.