Untimely You (6 page)

“Yeah, just fucking stressing already.”

He chuckles. “I’d stress too. Neesy is a mess. You’ll probably come home to a burned down house with her and Chrissy sitting in the front yard.”

I cringe in horror. “Really, Eric? I’m already about to drop everything and run my ass back home. I don’t need you adding fuel to my flame of insecurities.”

He slaps a file on my desk. “You know I’m fucking with you, man. Neesy is quite competent. She may be a little eccentric, but she’s not stupid. This is a much more suitable job for her than answering phones.”

Sighing in relief, I nod. “She started in like every-fucking-body else.”

“Understandable.”

I clench my fists, angry at myself for losing control earlier. “I put my hands on her.”

His cheerful demeanor grows stormy and he glares at me. “What the fuck man? You hit her?”

I lift both palms to him in a defensive move. “No! Shit, no! I grabbed her by the throat.” My mind flashes to the way her lips parted in surprise, her minty breath intoxicating me with every nervous gasp of air she took.

“Did you hurt her?” His voice has softened.

“No, but I was so fucking pissed. If Chrissy heard…she’d be heartbroken, Eric.”

He regards me with a sad frown. “Is she okay?”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to recall the way her pulse felt under my thumb—so active and alive. “Yeah, she’s fine.”

“You know, Adrian,” he says in a cautious way, “you have to cut her a little slack. You and I, by default of being your best friend, have dealt with Chrissy’s condition for over a decade. Neesy’s only just learning about her. I think if you give her time, she’ll do great. I don’t see her being anything but perfect for the job. We both saw the way she read the book to that kid. And you never notice the shit I do, but I’ve seen the way she gives up her cupcake at an office birthday if there aren’t enough to go around. I’ve seen her rush to open doors for clients leaving the building. I’ve seen the way she loads the dishes in the break room into the dishwasher each night and readies the coffee area for the next day. She’s kindhearted, man. Exactly what you were looking for.”

I remember watching my employee as she flitted into the restaurant behind Paul. The way she laughed at his jokes and inhaled her fajitas as if they might disappear right from her plate. How each time she was seemingly embarrassed, she’d tuck a hair behind her ear. Then, the kid started going nuts nearby. Neesy didn’t hesitate or frown or fucking complain. Without hesitation, she dug into her purse, retrieved a book, and plopped down at their table like she was a long-lost family member. She began reading in a soft, calm tone that drew the child from his upset state and made him focus on her. Hell, it worked for me too. I’d been enamored with her ability to bring joy and life to a stressful and depressing situation. It was at that moment that I knew I needed her for my Chrissy. I’ve tried a shit ton of gimmicks and new ideas to try and bring my wife back. Only recently have I simply just wanted her to be happy. And as much as she loved devouring her sappy novels, I thought it would be a gift to have such a lively woman who cared about reading just as much as she did read to her.

“I guess you’re right. But if I go home and she’s in the yard with my wife, there’ll be hell to pay.” I’m trying to sound gruff but the image of a laughing Neesy in the yard while braiding flowers into Chrissy’s hair or some shit has my lips quirking up into a smile.

Eric laughs. “See, man? Neesy’s perfect.”

Again, an uneasy feeling fists my gut into a knot of stress.

“How is she?” I attempt to keep the anxiety out of my voice but I’m afraid that she’ll see through my nonchalant tone and laugh at me.

“I don’t think she’s a fan of the bible. And to be honest, I keep dozing off too. If you’d mentioned what I was doing here, I could have brought some novels from my stash.”

I groan and flip through the file on my desk. “Maybe Damien has something in his room. There’s not much in my office. I know Chrissy has a box of books but they’re…” In the guest room I use as a shrine to her. “Packed away. Has the new nurse shown up yet?”

She doesn’t answer me and all I hear is rustling. Then she grunts. And finally a crash.

“What the fuck is going on, Neesy?”

“Shit, that hurt,” she pouts into the phone. My heart quickens and I force myself to calm down.

“What happened?”

“I fell out of the attic.”

I pull my phone away from my head and shake my head in disbelief, attempting to suck in calming breaths before I speak to her. “What were you doing in the attic?”

“I’m okay, thanks for asking,” she says in a wry tone. “I was looking for books, silly.”

“There’s nothing in the attic.”

“How was I supposed to know? I asked Yvette, and she said there had to be some up there. And oh my God, have you tried her BLT sandwiches? To. Die. For.” She moans into the phone to emphasize her point.

I roll my eyes. “Stay out of the attic, Crazy.”

“I’m not crazy.”

Laughing, I swivel in my chair and glance out the window. Today’s an unusually warm late fall day. A type of day where Chrissy would have loved to take a stroll around the neighborhood with Damien. “You’re certifiable. I’m wondering what possessed me to hire you.”

Because you drip with life.

Your smiles are infectious.

The zany personality is endearing.

“I guess you’re crazy too. A couple of wacko jackos,” she says, breathing heavily into the phone.

“What are you doing now?”

“I scooted Damien’s desk chair into his closet and am grabbing this box marked ‘old books’ from the top she—”

A crashing sound startles me and I jolt upright.

“Shit! I’m okay!” Her singsong voice doesn’t hide her discomfort.

“Jesus, Neesy. You’re like a goddamned tornado. All I wanted was for you to read to my wife, not destroy my fucking house.”

“You’re grumpy, you know that?”

Yes, I fucking know that.

“Just go read her the damn bible and I’ll bring some shit on the way home. Don’t leave her room and stay away from breakables,” I order.

She chuckles and the throaty, almost deep sound sends a current of pleasure into my ear and through my body. For a brief moment, I can almost close my eyes and pretend I’m chatting with Chrissy over nothing.

“I’m craving pizza.”

I smile into the phone. “You’re always craving pizza.”

She giggles, the sound is a shower of life to my ever growing heart. “That’s because I’m pregnant with your son. I blame the kid.”

“Yo, Hocksted. Order up!” Chip hollers from the kitchen.

“Shit, babe. I have to get back to work. I’ll see you in a few hours after my shift. We’ll study together and then we can make out on the couch.”

Images of my new wife sprawled out on the couch with her swollen belly between us only serves to harden my dick. Working two jobs and going to college full time fucking sucks. It leaves no time to see her, and it makes me crazy.

“Making out on the couch after studying got us into this mess in the first place,” she teases, her breathy voice warming me through the phone.

“I’d hardly call you looking hot as shit with your pregnant belly a mess.”

“Hocksted! Order up, man!”

I groan. “Babe, I gotta go. Tell Dame I love him. I’ll see you soon, Mama Bear.”

We hang up and I saunter over to the window. He pushes a pizza box to me.

“Large pepperoni with extra olives. And extra, extra, extra olives on half,” he says with an amused laugh. “Things are kind of slow tonight. If you want to bail after you deliver that one, that’s cool. I can always have Bailey run out any orders.”

I take the box and chuckle. Chrissy and her damn pregnant olive obsession. I swear she spends every extra dime I make from this job on pizza just so she can see me. The job is becoming pointless.

“Thanks, man. See you tomorrow.”

As I bound out of the restaurant, I can’t help but grin. Looks like Daddy Bear’ll be making out with Mama Bear tonight after all.

The memory, though sweet, leaves a sour taste of unfairness in my mouth. God, I miss those days.

“Bye, Crazy,” I tell Neesy.

“Don’t work too hard, Wacko.”

She hangs up and I thread my fingers behind my head, leaning back in my chair. Have I totally lost my fucking mind in hiring this woman?

The verdict’s still out on that one.

I
spent the first part of the morning staring at her. Her skin isn’t pink but is instead almost grey. She doesn’t move at all. Even when I talk to her, try to scare her, or tell hilarious jokes. When Yvette, the housekeeper and cook came in to say hello to her, I practically pounced on the woman, just so I’d have someone who would talk back to me. Eventually, she had to get back to work and left me alone again with Chrissy.

“Damien has a lot of good children’s books up in his closet,” I tell her and sneak a peek at her to see if she flinches at the mention of her son. “The Boxcar Children are the best. He almost has an entire set of those.”

I set to reading the books and am soon immersed in the world meant for children. After I read her three in a row, I stand to stretch. Yvette had made me a fabulous lunch and that was the highlight of my day. However, other than that, this job has to be the most boring on the planet. I glance around the room and don’t discover any cameras. Would he even notice if I just took a nap?

Guilt rushes through my veins and I sigh. He’d have an aneurysm if he found out. Lucky for him, I wouldn’t do that. Adrian’s paying me a lot to entertain his wife and that’s exactly what I’ll do.

Wife.

Heat creeps up my neck and I shake my head. I feel like such a damn fool for thinking he’d brought me here to be his secret sex slave. Of course a man like Adrian Hocksted wouldn’t be interested in a woman like me. He’s so refined—so crisp and flawless. I’m so…weird. I mean, who else shows up to a man’s house looking like a hooker and secretly hoping he’s going to fuck her senseless while chained to a bed with her panties gagging her mouth? This gal, I suppose.

“You’re lucky,” I tell Chrissy. “Adrian is apparently a great father, completely loyal husband, and sexy as hell.”

I wait for a reaction.

Nothing.

“Don’t worry,” I sigh. “I’m not after him. I just want to get paid. But it’s a damn shame he’s taken because I’ve been waiting my whole life for a man like him.”

No reaction.

“I feel like I’m talking to myself. Can you hear me inside of there? I’m Neesy Noble. My mother insisted on calling me Bernice. Bernice!”

Still no reaction despite the horrendous name.

“I’d be shocked into silence too if I were you. Imagine what sort of grief I dealt with growing up. It wasn’t until I started going by Neesy that people started taking me seriously. Just be lucky you have a pretty name. Chrissy. I’d love to be a Chrissy rather than a Bernice.”

The door clicks open and I hope to see Adrian. Yvette pokes her head through and smiles.

“Sugah, she don’t talk back. Been workin’ for Mistah Hocksted for ages and dat lady don’t bat an eyelash. But, boy, does that man love the missus. So sad really, if you a askin’ me. Poor thang should have died that day. Her body ain’t nothin’ but a shell.”