Page 37 of Right Next Door (Stone Family #3)

Nicole

C lara and Marianne reappear from where they’d been hiding away in the back, apparently tidying up. As if they don’t have their own business to run.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, motioning around the newly cleaned storage room. “And you didn’t have to stay so long. I’m sure you have things to do.”

“Yes, like make sure you’re okay,” Clara says at the same time her wife produces her cell phone.

“I’m texting you the name of my attorney friend who specializes in business contracts, and if you need the name of a divorce lawyer, Taryn has a good one.”

I rub my clammy palms down the sides of my skirt, thinking of Ian’s sister and how she’s been put through the wringer with her ex-husband over the custody of her kids, but she seems really happy now with Dante.

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll reach out.”

Marianne slides her phone back into her pocket. “What else can we do?”

“Nothing. Really. You’ve helped me so much already by being here.”

She slips her arms around me for a hug, and Clara follows so they’ve got me in the middle. And that’s how it stays for the rest of the day. My friends and community showing up for me, over and over.

After Clara and Marianne leave, I take a deep breath and turn the sign on the door to Open . While it would be easier to close up shop, crawl into bed, and hide under the covers, I can’t afford to lose business. Not when my future hangs in the balance. I need every customer I can get.

It starts off as a slow trickle, but it seems word—Clara—has spread fast about what happened.

Everyone from Aster Street and the downtown area stops by, offering words of encouragement and support.

Eloise is one of the first to arrive, bearing a box of cinnamon buns and other baked goods. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up.”

Then it’s the Kanekos, who own the sushi restaurant, and their daughter Mio, Ned from the record store, Pat and Helen from the pet store, Lori from the secondhand shop, and the Palacios from the high-end furniture store with the gorgeous armchair I’ve been drooling over for a year but never bought because Bryce thought it was dumb to buy such an expensive piece of furniture.

“You’re never home to sit in it,” he’d said, but I’d come home just to curl up with a book and read in it now.

It’ll be my first purchase post-divorce, I decide.

Andi strolls in with Logan and Grace in the afternoon. The kids look around while she approaches me at the counter. “I heard about what happened earlier, and while I’ve never met your husband, I know you, and I know you’re a good person. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

She’s about a decade younger than me but has probably seen and done more in her life than I ever have, since she was born in Texas, lived in California, and now resides here. She’s also sweet as her homemade tea and cooler than I could ever hope to be.

With her hand pressed to her chest, she leans in close. “I might not be an official member of the Stone family yet, but I think I can speak for the entire family when I say, we’re behind you one hundred percent.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“And for what it’s worth, I know how it feels to be put into the middle of an embarrassing situation.

You don’t need me to tell you this because you’re a smart woman, but in case you need the reminder…

How everything went down has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the ego of a fragile man. ”

Isn’t that how it always goes? From the downfall of societies to violence against women, it’s always because of the fragility of men.

“I actually did need to hear that.”

She nods and offers me a squeeze that belies her short stature. She has more strength than anyone might assume, and I am grateful for her friendship. For everyone’s.

About an hour before close, Dante Moretti arrives with a few boxes and a tool kit.

“I come bearing the tidings of Taryn for your husband to quote, contract gangrene of the dick, end quote—” he grins widely, obviously proud of his girlfriend “—and a new security system.” He sets down the boxes, explaining, “Ian has tasked me with setting it all up for you, so don’t mind me. I’m following the big guy’s orders.”

Yes, Ian might have done what I asked and left me alone to sort myself out, but he has once again proved that he is never far away from me, physically or emotionally. I am always on his mind.

Like he is always on mine.

Especially as I close up the store and find a text from him.

Ian

Dante should have explained how the security system works, and I want you to use it. Text me a picture or video of you using it to lock up.

So I do, earning a Good girl in return, but once I take a seat in my car, I realize that I don’t want to go home, to the house I shared with Bryce, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.

If I asked Ian, he wouldn’t hesitate, but I’m not sure that’s a great idea either.

Not when my argument with Bryce is so fresh, the sting of humiliation still trailing after me.

Ever since college, I’ve been so worried about becoming that girl again, only to have made the conscious decision to put myself into a situation that made me that girl .

I can’t say I regret being with Ian, but the pain of having an old scar ripped open is still too new to be able to pretend like it’s not.

I can’t go on with my life with him until I am sure I won’t crumble under the weight of my fear of disappointing everyone.

I’ve spent my life trying to please others, and that necessity to feel worthy doesn’t suddenly up and disappear.

I know I’ll continue to second-guess myself about all of my choices if I don’t take a step back.

I have to get out of the eye of the storm for a bit.

Which is exactly what I tell Aunt Sue when I call her, more tears falling as I rehash everything that transpired within the last twenty-four hours. She listens patiently as I pour out my feelings, and when I finally run out of steam, she softly asks, “Are you regretting your decision?”

There is no question. “I know divorcing him is the right thing for me to do. I just need time to figure everything out. What I’m going to do about money and the loan and?—”

“Why don’t you take a few days off and come stay with me?”

“What?”

“You said it yourself—you need some time, so take it here. Stay with me for a few days, and we’ll work it all out, the attorneys, the money, the loan stuff. And maybe you can see some whales too. If anything, that’s worth it.”

I stare at the back door of Chapter and Verse, wondering if it’s possible. If I could take a vacation. I mean… I am my own boss. I wouldn’t have to shut down completely, only change the hours and make sure my staff could cover it. I?—

“I practically hear you overthinking it. Come on, hon. You know you need to. It’s take a break now or have a breakdown later.”

Well.

When she puts it like that…

“Okay. I’ll come.”

“Good. Now go pack your bags and tell that handsome bear of a man you’ll see him in a few days.”

I hang up and head back into the store to make some calls and send some emails, setting myself up to take a few days off before texting Ian that I need to talk to him. We meet outside by my car, his hair tied back, his glasses on.

“Are you in the middle of an appointment?” I ask, knowing his work habits, and he nods. “Then what are you doing out here?”

“You said you needed to talk.”

I shoot my arm out. “Not while you’re in the middle of something.”

He waves me off. “It’s a big piece. We both needed a break anyway.”

“Ian.”

“Nicole.”

“I could’ve waited.”

“And so can Batman.” At my quirked brow, he shrugs. “I’m tattooing Batman on this guy’s arm. The Robert Pattinson version. I personally would’ve gone with Michael Keaton to get the traditional yellow symbol, but…”

When I laugh, he grabs hold of my shoulders and hauls me to him. “I love that sound. I was worried I wouldn’t hear it again with so much crying.”

“I know. I think I’m dehydrated.”

“You need to drink water.”

“I will.”

He kisses my forehead, cheek, then mouth. “We’ll have to go back to basics. Daily proof you’re drinking and eating.”

I wrap my hands around his wrists, his big hands bracketing my face, and lean into his palms. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Can you take care of Mr. Darcy for a while?”

“Sure, but why?”

“I’m going to visit Aunt Sue.”

He doesn’t answer right away, merely tenses his fingers, lengthening them a bit more, the tips extending under my hair to my scalp. “Okay. I’ll bring Mr. Darcy next door to my place for a few days. Hold him hostage. Make sure you’ll come back to get him.”

I turn, smiling into one of his palms, kissing it. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a few days.”

He bends, lips brushing against mine. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

We don’t say anything more. At least, not with words.

I speak with my tongue sliding along his, fingers curling into his shirt, my heart beating wildly against my rib cage, an echo of his, banging so hard, I can feel it against my chest when I stand on my toes, aligning my body with his, trying to get as close as possible.

I’m so grateful for you.

I love you.

I want to be in your life forever.

Tattoo your name on my heart.

Carve my blessings in stone.