Page 16

K ENDALL

It’s been two days since Nash’s apology and explanation, and I still haven’t decided what to do next. I’m not ghosting him since it’s not like we used to talk every day anyway. I haven’t changed my routine or gone out of my way to ignore him, or to see him either.

His parents picked up Paisley yesterday, and part of me wonders if he’ll come by some day this week. It’s unlikely, knowing his schedule, but a girl can dream.

Well, not dream. It’s not like I’m pining away to see him again.

Liar.

“Grammy!” Paisley drops her purple marker on the table and runs into her grandmother’s arms.

“Hi, angel,” Beth says as she kisses the top of Paisley’s head.

“Where’s Grandpa?”

“He’s out shopping for dinner. I heard somebody requested tacos tonight.”

“Is he getting the crunchy shells?”

“Is there any other kind? Go pick up and say goodbye to your friends and teacher.” When Paisley rushes off, Beth comes over to me and holds out a small gift bag. “This is from Nash.”

I curl my bottom lip into my mouth and stare at the bag. “Oh.” I feel my face flushing with embarrassment. If she knows what happened between us, I’ll die of embarrassment.

“He said it’s a thank you gift for watching Paisley. I told him he’s a little late on sending a thank you, but he insisted I deliver it today.”

“Oh,” I say in relief, accepting the bag. “Thank you.”

Even though I’m dying to see what’s inside, I wait until all the children have been picked up before sitting at my desk and pulling out the tissue paper.

Reaching inside the bag, I pull out a wooden box with a wide gold ribbon around it and a wax seal. I recognize the fancy script from Le Kendricks, the most decadent and expensive chocolate shop in the city.

Before breaking the wax, I can already smell the rich chocolate. The shop is known for its white chocolate shaped mice and dark chocolate penguin shapes. They’re adorable, but that’s not what’s in this box.

Carefully packed in small compartments are little chocolate footballs. Unable to resist, I take a small bite of one and moan as the richest peanut butter and creamy chocolate melt in my mouth.

I didn’t think there was any better candy than the holiday shaped Reese's peanut butter cups, but Nash just proved me wrong. I finish one football and have no desire to control myself, immediately picking up another. Before I devour the entire box, I close the lid and put it back in the bag.

I’m not going to say the way to my heart is through chocolate and peanut butter, but it’s a sure-fire way to get to my vagina.

Sending Nash a thank you message too soon will make him think I’m easily bought, so I pack up my things and decide to text him later tonight.

IT’S NOT UNTIL MY LUNCH break the following day that I realize I never thanked Nash for the chocolates.

Is it proper to thank someone for an apology gift?

I’m not up on etiquette. Last night got away from me after bringing my sister to her physical therapy appointment, followed by cooking dinner together and playing a card game that she insisted Mom and I play with her.

She was especially agitated and we weren’t sure why, so the last thing on my mind were chocolates and Nash. I didn’t even get to think about him as I went to sleep because Dani insisted on sleeping with me. When she has her bad days, I can’t deny her.

Sharon comes into the staff room during my lunch break carrying a gorgeous vase of white flowers and elegant greenery.

Barry lets out a whistle. “You and Dave renewing your vows, Sharon? You look like you’re holding a bridal bouquet.”

“They’re not for me.” She walks over to me and sets the heavy vase on the table in front of my lunch box. “They’re for Kendall.”

My turkey and cheese sandwich gets lodged in my throat as my eyes grow wide in astonishment.

“Who are they from? Is your ex trying to get back with you?” Abby, one of the fourth-grade teachers, asks.

The staff knew I was in a relationship with Jason, but none of them ever met him. And when I learned the truth and dumped his ass, I was beyond devastated and completely mortified. I never told anyone why we broke up, they just saw the aftermath.

I never socialize much with my colleagues anyway, but I became more reserved. It’s best to keep professional and personal life separate, especially in a private school setting like Revere.

“Or are you dating someone new?” Abby comes over and smells them. “These are totally new love kind of flowers. They even smell like you.”

“They do?”

I’ve been wearing gardenia perfume ever since Jason and I broke up. He used to comment on how much he loved my scent, and wanting to burn every memory, every part of my life with him, I dumped my old lotions and perfumes and went to Target to find something new.

I found a matching lotion and spray that was a little pricier than my go-to scent, but it was worth having a fresh start. And I loved the smell. I had no idea what flower it was and didn’t care. It was fresh and clean. A little fruity even, but not like a fruit salad.

I lean in and breathe in the gorgeous bouquet. It does smell like me.

“Oh, those are gardenias. Quite expensive since they’re not in season right now,” Sharon says.

“Open the card.” Abby nudges me with her elbow.

There’s no doubt who they’re from, but I’m not about to let my colleagues know I’m hot for the father of one of my students.

Not that it breaks any rules, but I’d never hear the end of it.

They already know I attend almost every home Revolutions game in wicked good seats, courtesy of my best friend who’s married to one of the star players.

There’s a lot of Monday morning chatter after every game. They used to hound me for details about Walker and his teammates, but when they realized I wasn’t about to give them any dirt, they stopped pestering me.

“I’m dying, Kendall. Open it.” She takes the card out of the bouquet and shoves it in my face.

“Easy, Abby.” I take the card from her and shove it in my skirt pocket. “Whoever it’s from, they’re just a friend. I’m not dating anyone.”

“I predict that’s about to change. If you don’t want him, send him my way.”

I roll my eyes. “The sender could be an oaf. Or a criminal. Or a narcissist.”

“Please. An oaf wouldn’t have the brain cells to put together a cluster like this.” She touches the top of one of the white roses.

“I’m sure the sender didn’t put this together either. This is the work of a professional florist. It’s pretty easy to click a button on the computer and order anything these days.”

The card is burning a hole in my pocket and I’d give anything for Abby to leave me alone so I can read Nash’s message.

“Well, he’s not a criminal either. These flowers had to cost a fortune. A criminal wouldn’t want to waste money on flowers this exquisite.”

“Your rationale makes no sense.”

Ignoring me, she continues as she fingers one of the green, waxy leaves. “And a narcissist would send these to himself. My request still stands. If you don’t want Mr. Moneybags with a romantic heart, give him my number.”

I finish the last bite of my sandwich and stuff my empty containers in my lunch box. Brushing off the crumbs from the table to my palm, I scoot my chair back and stand.

“The kids will be back from recess soon.” I brush off the crumbs in the nearby trash and scoop up my flowers and my lunchbox. “Have a great rest of your day.”

“You’re killing us, Kendall,” Abby calls to my retreating back.

Hell, these flowers weigh a ton. I make it back to my classroom and find a safe place for the monstrosity where my students won’t knock it over, then slip the card from my pocket. The message is handwritten in what I believe to be Nash’s script.

These flowers reminded me of you. I hope you’re having a wonderful day.

Nash

Simple, sweet, short, and to the point, but my heart didn’t get the memo. It beats erratically in my chest.

On Friday, I receive a fruit bouquet—heavy on the strawberries—with a similar note.

More reminders. Have a wonderful weekend.

It takes me a moment to figure out his coded message, then heat fills my face. I drank a strawberry daiquiri that Riley ordered for me before Nash kissed me.

I’m too flustered to respond, which is unlike me—thanks for the advice, Rowan—and don’t send a thank you text.

I haven’t thanked him for any of the gifts.

My weekend is busy with errands for Mom and my sister, and on Sunday, Rowan picks me up for the Revs game.

Riley’s hitching a ride with Jackson and Taylor and we meet her at the friends and family gate an hour before the game starts.

Riley likes to watch Walker warm up, and it’s not painful for the rest of us watching fifty plus guys in tight pants get limber. She runs down as close as she can get to the field and Walker spots her instantly, hustling over to the stands and leaping up to give her a kiss.

There are hundreds of other fans as eager as we are to stare at all the beautiful bodies, and a collective aww fills the stands nearby.

“Get a room, you two,” I yell. “Seriously, you just saw each other two hours ago.”

Rowan covers my mouth with her palm. “You two are an inspiration to romantics. Keep at it, Walker!”

I pretend to be focused on my friend and her handsome husband, but I sneak a peek to the right and find Nash glaring at me.

It’s probably because I haven’t called to thank him for the gifts he’s been spoiling me with.

But they’re apology gifts. He’s buying my forgiveness. I don’t have to say anything to him.

After Friday’s fruit bouquet, I reached out to Rowan and asked for her opinion.

She said it would be nice to at least acknowledge receipt of his gifts, but I’ve been chickening out.

To be fair, I spent most of Saturday at the walk-in clinic because my sister wasn’t feeling well.

She’s unable to communicate effectively what’s wrong, so it managed to take up most of my day.

All we got out of her was that her head hurt and she was tired and wanted to go home. When she’s sick, it’s hard for her to function, and she reverts back to her toddler ways. There was lots of crying, lots of comforting, and she didn’t want me out of her sight.

I planned on skipping tonight’s game, especially since it’s a late game and won’t be over until elevenish, and it’ll be closer to midnight before I get home.

With an early morning meeting—my favorite way to start the work week.

..not—I told Rowan I may leave before the fourth quarter starts.

Since her shift starts at nine, she’s on board with bailing early.

I bring my water bottle to my lips and peer over it in Nash’s direction. He’s still staring my way, and from the looks of it, he’s not happy.

Good. I’ve been less than happy dealing with my yo-yoing feelings toward him. And by feelings, I mean pure, unadulterated lust. Nothing more. I don’t know Nash well enough to feel anything beyond carnal lust.

Just because he’s an amazing father and his daughter lights up like a freaking Christmas tree when she sees him, and maybe he gives the best ass-kissing gifts. And who cares that he’s close with his parents and would rather stay in and have family time than go out and party? I still don't know him.

What music he listens to or the kind of movies he watches. What his favorite food is or if he has any allergies. I know nothing of importance.

When the game finally starts, Nash doesn’t ever look up here again. Walker gives Riley a wave at halftime when he jogs off the field, but Nash doesn’t even bother turning our way. Not that I mind the view.

I’ve mentioned his fabulous ass, right?

When we’re up by two touchdowns and there’s ten minutes left in the game, Rowan and I peace out.

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Rowan asks once she pulls out of the lot.

“What?”

“Nash Humphries is what.”

“I didn’t even talk to him.”

“Exactly.”

“What, am I supposed to call out his name like a star-crossed lover? Bend myself over the railing and beg him to come fuck me from behind?”

Oh. Wow. Now I can’t get that image out of my head. Not that I want him to bang me in front of thousands of people. But bending me over and railing me from behind? Um. Yeah.

“He stared at you. No.” She shakes her head. “He glared at you for a solid five minutes before the game, and then never looked your way again.”

So she noticed that too. Great. Maybe the cameraman put that up on the jumbotron with the caption, Bitchy slut pisses off sexy defensive end by blowing him off after he sends her daily thoughtful gifts.

“Let me guess.” Rowan sighs. “You still haven’t thanked him or acknowledged the gifts.”

“It’s getting embarrassing. I’m the talk of every staff member during lunch break. They’re speculating that I have a secret lover. On Friday, Abby joked that he must be married, which is why I’m being so close-mouthed about his identity.”

“I’m sorry, Ken.” She reaches over and squeezes my arm.

I don’t need to explain why the comment bothers me. She and Riley are the only ones who know about Jason. Not even my mom or sister know the real reason why we broke up. They weren’t close with him anyway. Even after dating him for two years, he’d only met them a handful of times.

“Are you going to talk to him? Nash?”

She doesn’t need to clarify, but I appreciate it anyway. “I should.”

“You said you thought his apology and his gifts were genuine.”

“Yeah. They are.”

Rowan chuckles. “You sound upset about it.”

“Fool me once. Shame on you. Fool me twice...”

“You’re not a fool, Ken. You never were and you never will be. Don’t let someone else’s lies and mistakes make you think any differently about yourself. You’re the strongest human I’m honored to know and love. Unfortunately, there are shitty people in the world, but you’re not one of them.”

“I don’t think Nash is either,” I say quietly.

“Why do you sound disappointed about that?”

“Because he’s relationship material, and I’m not ready for that right now.”

“From the sound of it, neither is he.”

“He’s not going to sleep around.” I bite my lower lip as an idea springs to mind.

“Uh oh. Even in the dark car, I can sense your overactive brain smoking. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rowan turns onto my street.

“I have a plan.” It could blow up in my face or it could be the best idea I’ve ever come up with. If I can pull it off, it’ll be a win-win for both of us.

“Do I want to know?”

“Not yet. If it pans out, I’ll fill you in.” I hop out of her car as soon as she stops in my driveway. “Love you, Row. Drive safely. Text me when you get home.”

“Love you too. No wild and crazy ideas that are going to backfire and get you hurt, okay?”

“Sure thing.” I blow her a kiss and jog up the steps to my mom’s house with a smile on my face.

Oh, if he says yes, I’ll be winning big time.

Like, big fucking time.