Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses(65)
“Have you eaten at all today?” She searched his desk for empty plates or some indication that he’d been out of that chair. There was nothing.
Nick shook his head, grabbed his calculator, and typed in a few numbers, his attention on his work as if she weren’t there. He inhaled, his eyes moving from the calculator screen to the spreadsheet, back and forth. “I’ve had some bad news about one of my investments, and I really need to be left alone with it. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be rude, but this requires all my concentration at the moment.”
She leaned down into his line of sight.
He looked at her.
“You need to eat something.”
“I have to finish this or I’ll lose my train of thought. This is more important than eating. I’m about to lose a sale, and if I don’t get it…” He shook his head. “There are millions riding on it.”
“You’re tired. Some good food might help clear your head, and you can look at it with fresh eyes.”
“I like being with you and Max—but I have to work.”
The doorknob clicked.
“Hi, Nick!” Max was standing in the doorway. He waved and then looked at his mother, his face oblivious to what had just transpired before he’d opened the door. “Mama, I’m hungry. And bored.”
“Oh!” she said, wondering where Richard had been, but then realizing that it wasn’t his job to watch Max. “Well, I was just going to cook Nick some dinner. He needs to eat, even if it’s at his desk,” she said as she looked over at him. She could tell he’d heard her, but he didn’t look up. “Want to help me?”
“Okay.” Max walked over to Nick and put his face right between Nick and his papers. “Are you going to eat with us, Nick? Please?”
Nick looked up at Abbey and then at Max, his face tired but kind. “I have a little more work to do, but I promise I’ll eat with you,” he said.
“Yay!” Max said, jumping up and down, his little fists in the air. “You’re gonna love my mama’s cooking. She makes great food!”
“And I still owe you a dinner from our bet,” she said with a smile.
Nick smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Then, as they left, he looked back down at the papers on his desk.
* * *
It had taken Abbey fifteen minutes to locate all the ingredients she’d need in that big kitchen. Nick had everything she’d ever want to create a meal, and she’d settled on homemade macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, corn on the cob, and the sausage casserole she had because of Adrienne’s party. Max had helped Abbey choose what to prepare, and he’d also helped her cook. She took the dishes through the swinging double doors and into the dining room where Max was already waiting. He’d asked Abbey to sit at the end, an empty chair between them, “for Nick,” he’d said.
“When’s he coming?” Max asked.
“I texted him that dinner was ready about five minutes ago. Let’s give him a few more minutes,” she said, hoping the food wouldn’t get cold.
Max nodded, looking around at the dining room. “Nick’s house is fancy,” he said.
She smiled at him and nodded. “It is fancy.”
“I wonder why he likes things so fancy.”
“Probably because he grew up that way and he’s used to it.”
“The table’s a really long way from the kitchen,” he noted.
“Yes.”
“If I had this house, I’d just put a table in the kitchen.”
Abbey smiled again. “That’s because that’s what you’re used to. But when you’re a man, you certainly can if you want to. When you grow up, are you going to have a house this big?”
Max pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe something middle sized.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
They sat, talking—just the two of them like they were used to doing—for quite a while, and eventually, Abbey dished up a plate for Max. The food was only lukewarm at this point, and she figured he’d better eat at least. She could always warm hers and Nick’s up later. Max looked disappointed, his eyes fluttering over to the empty chair every so often. He’d been so excited to tell Nick that he’d helped to choose what was for dinner.
“Nick’s food is going to be cold,” Max said. “He promised he’d eat with us.”
Max had never experienced anyone who didn’t keep a promise. Nick’s absence—whether intentional or not—was upsetting her. This wasn’t just about letting her down; it was about letting Max down as well. And while dinner had been her idea, he’d agreed to it. He should’ve kept his word.