Page 63 of Denial
We lapse into a silence for the first time since she brought my daughter home.
“I should probably get going. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to crash.”
“I could pull out the futon in my office,” I joke.
She freezes upright, halfway to her feet.
“That sounded more chivalrous in my head. I just mean if you ever feel too tired to drive home, I have plenty of room for you to crash.”
“Good thing we live close enough. I’ll be home in bed before you get the room turned over.”
I scrub the heat from the back of my neck at the thought of her in bed. “You’re probably right.”
Looping two fingers through the straps of her shoes, she carries them barefoot to the back door. I follow.
“Oh, by the way, I owe you for the salon. You can take it out of my check.”
I lean a shoulder against the doorframe to the kitchen. “It’s my treat.”
“That’s way too much,” she protests.
“You just gave my daughter one of the best nights of her life. It was worth every penny.”
“In that case, I hope you don’t mind having me around. She had so much fun she’s already invited me to the county fair.”
I didn’t realize hiring a nanny meant I’d have even less time alone with my daughter.
“She did, did she?”
“I told her it was up to you, but if you don’t want to break her heart, I think I’m stuck tagging along.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. There’s nothing else to say when we both know she’s right. Oddly, I’m looking forward to it. She makes my daughter happy. If Nellie’s happy, then so am I.
“See you Monday, Sutton.”
“Get home safe, Alice.”
The shock of me using her name registers on her face for only a moment before she turns and slips out the door.
I close down the house, locking doors and turning off lights on my way down to my bedroom, where I go to sleep with the taste of her name still on my tongue.
16
Alice
A light breezeblows through the open window above the kitchen sink. Summer is right around the corner, bringing with it the smell of fresh spring flowers in bloom. A nearby neighbor cuts their grass, and Merit barks excitedly in the backyard at a squirrel teasing her from a tall branch.
The orange sun hangs low, though it still won’t set for a few hours. I decided to try my hand at this grill-top thing for dinner. It can’t be that hard. I’ve watched enough videos to get the gist, and with Nellie as my sous chef, I’m confident I can’t fuck it up too bad.
“What first?” she asks, twirling around the tie of her pink apron like it’s a lasso. The cute accessory features a bowl of fruit in the center, and a pink fringe decorates the hem.
“I think we put the vegetables over here.” I tap the left side of the griddle with the spatula.
Nellie carefully flips over the heavy silver bowl filled with an assortment of broccoli, onions, peas, carrots, and red peppers.
“Good. Over here, we add the chicken. I’ll do that. It’s raw, and I don’t want you to get sick.” I toss the diced chicken with oil and seasonings, moving it around to give it room to cook.
Nellie wrinkles her button nose. “Looks slimy.”
