It turned out that Oliver had been telling the truth about Noah’s passing. I’d hoped that he’d made that up as well, even though his original plan had been simply to get pictures while taking me to the hospital to see Noah’s body. It’d seemed too cold even for Oliver that he’d exploit his cousin’s death that way, but he had. I’d never been hated with that level of intensity before.
With Oliver gone, Russ took over arranging Noah’s funeral, and he and I split the cost. Mark had invited me to attend the funeral with him and Elise—Meagan and Grant were working, since Cavanaugh’s was the only funeral home in town—but I’d thought I should go with the Sugarwood employees. Many of them had known Noah for years, and it felt like I should show solidarity with the ones who hadn’t quit us during the trials Oliver created.
Mark and Elise came and stood with our Sugarwood group at the graveside after the service, and Mark took my hand, a public declaration of our new status. I prayed it wouldn’t be the last.
With all that’d happened in the past couple of days, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mark alone about the text Oliver sent, the one that told him I was cheating on him.
The way he stayed by my side suggested he hadn’t believed it, but that might simply be because Elise had told him it was a lie rather than because he’d never believed it. I’d experienced more than once that one of Mark’s flaws was jealousy, and there was a difference between I never believed it and I believed it until someone told me I shouldn’t. To me, that was an essential distinction.
As everyone left the graveside and headed for their cars, I held Mark back. “We need to talk.”
Mark’s hold on my hand loosened almost imperceptibly, but I felt it all the way down to my core. “I don’t like the sound of that. Do I need to be worried?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
I’d had too many people in my life that I couldn’t trust, starting with my dad. I knew I could trust Mark—he’d earned it multiple times over—but I also needed him to trust me. Because if he didn’t, it said something about the type of person he thought I was. I didn’t want him looking at me the way I now looked at my dad.
If he did, it doomed us. If this relationship was going anywhere, he had to be the person in my life who believed the best of me rather than the worst.
Mark dropped my hand completely. “Maybe we should go somewhere else for this conversation.”
He mimed to Elise that he was riding with me. We rode in silence, and as we passed through the center of town, I considered driving in circles and apologizing to him and pretending like it didn’t matter. I hadn’t thought to ask him where we should take the conversation, so I drove us to my house. If this went badly, at least I wouldn’t have to drive myself home while crying.
The dogs mobbed us as soon as I let them out of their crates, but they quickly settled in on their doggie beds with their toys.
I motioned Mark to the couch and kept enough distance between us that our legs didn’t touch. Past experience had taught me that I didn’t think clearly when Mark touched me. I wanted a clear head.
My throat refused to swallow. It felt like I’d tried to eat a pillow whole. “Did you…” My voice hadn’t shaken this hard since the last time I tried to speak in front of a jury. “Did you believe the text message that said I was cheating on you?”
The statue-like rigidity in Mark’s body relaxed, and he brushed the hair back from my face with the fingers half hidden in the splint for his broken wrist. “That’s what you wanted to talk about? I thought you were going to break up with me.”
For a second, I forgot what I’d been saying. I’d been in a place before, with Peter, where I let my physical reactions overwhelm my common sense and instincts. I couldn’t start another relationship that way. I turned my face away from his touch. “This matters. Elise believed it.”
She’d apologized again when we were at the hospital, but it’d still left a sting in my soul. And left me wondering what would have happened to me if she’d written me off and had gone back to tell Mark what she’d seen rather than tagging along to try to get photographic evidence.
“Nikki,” Mark’s voice was soft, “I know you better than that now. The only reason I believed the rumors about you and Erik was because some of the situations we were in made it seem like you were with him. I never once thought you were involved with Noah or Dave or anyone else.” He turned my face back toward him. “I know you better than that.”
He gave me that dimpled smile that turned my brain to mush. His gaze dropped to my lips. “But there’s still a lot more I’d like to know.”
The doorbell rang, and we both jumped.
Mark slumped back against the couch cushions. “It’s like we’re in a sitcom or something.”
The bell rang again, and I hopped up. The jitters running through my body now had nothing to do with fear. The quicker I could deal with whoever was at the door, the better.
I peeked through the peephole. Stacey Rathmell stood on my front steps, one hand twisted in the other.
Part of me wanted to leave her on my steps and go back to the safety of Mark’s arms. I was tired of people attacking me, verbally or otherwise.
But that would be the coward’s way out.
I opened the door, and Stacey dropped her hands to her sides, stiff like maple trunks.
“I owe you an apology,” she said before I could even ask what she was doing here. “I was upset over Noah and my dad, and you didn’t deserve it.”
One of the things I’d read in Uncle Stan’s Bible was that I should forgive people because I’d been forgiven. I didn’t want to. When the house was quiet and I was alone, I could still hear her words in my ears, and I had a hard enough time liking myself without anyone else laying indictments at my feet.
I sucked in a deep breath and glanced back over my shoulder at Mark on the couch. He’d turned in the direction of the door, there if I needed him, and the expression on his face was one that said he believed I’d forgive her. It spoke volumes about the kind of person he thought I was. It almost seemed silly that I’d questioned it.
If I didn’t forgive her, I’d be one step closer to becoming the person she’d accused me of being and one step farther away from the person Mark saw when he looked at me.
“I forgive you.” Somehow saying the words made me feel them a little more. “You were in one of the worst possible positions I could imagine.”
She nodded once, sharply. “Thanks.”
She walked down the steps. I had the door half closed when she turned around and came back.
The end of her ponytail lay over her shoulder, and she fiddled with the tips of her hair, making her look a lot younger than eighteen.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted. “It’s Noah’s and I want to keep it. My parents want me to give the baby up for adoption, but I want it. I can handle this.”
I held on tight to the doorknob and ordered my mouth not to droop open. I didn’t know whether to congratulate her on the new life or console her for how she was going to have to bring it into the world. And a little voice in the back of my head whispered that there was an ask coming.
Stacey huffed in air like she’d forgotten to breathe. “Noah’s house is empty now, and you’ll want a new mechanic-handyman. I don’t know a lot about the stuff you need fixed around here, but I know a lot about cars and I’m a quick learner. I could learn to work the store or the pancake house, too, if you wanted. I’d earn my spot.”
I held up my hand to try to slow down the tide of words, but she didn’t seem to even see it.
“I don’t want to work around the fumes in my dad’s shop while I’m pregnant, but I’m going to need a job if I want to keep my baby.”
The flow of words stopped abruptly, and she stood there looking much too young to be a soon-to-be single mom on her own. To her credit, she didn’t try to guilt me into giving her the job by reminding me that Noah had died protecting me. That show of grace and maturity convinced me that taking her on was the right decision.
Russ was probably going to be cheesed that I’d hired a replacement for Noah without consulting him, but he’d have done the same thing if Stacey asked him. “Will you need help moving your stuff in?”
The way her face lit up burned away any lingering anger or unforgiveness I had toward her. It must have taken a lot for her to humble herself by asking for help from me, who she’d verbally lambasted less than a week ago.
She shook her head, sending her long ponytail swishing. “My dad agreed to help me move, even though this isn’t the choice he would have made. My parents love me, and I know they’ll love my baby once it’s here.”
I’d no doubt she was right. Now that I knew she was pregnant, Tony’s desire to “make peace” with Noah made more sense. A baby changed everything.
I told Stacey to wait a minute, and I went around behind the door to where Noah’s set of keys hung on my key rack. I brought them back and handed them to her. “You can move in as soon as you’re ready, and you can start tomorrow if you want.”
She dipped her head. “I really appreciate it.”
When I closed the door and turned around, Mark stood at the kitchen counter with a plastic container in his hand. He plopped both of our cell phones into it and stuffed it in the fridge.
I stopped on the far side of the kitchen island. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, he came around the island, wrapped his uninjured arm around my waist, and kissed me—slow and warm, and better than any of my daydreams.
He finally let me go and grinned down at me. “The phones might have rung. I wasn’t taking any more chances.”