The Absence of Olivia(40)
I felt the panic rising up, but did my best to tamp it down. Surely, Devon wasn’t expecting me to stay with them. He’d probably already signed them up for daycare or summer camp. I wouldn’t mind continuing the morning and evening routine, but anything more than what I was giving them now would cause a lot of issues. I pushed the stressful thoughts out of my mind, trying not to give in to the urge to overthink and panic.
I kept the radio on as I drove Jax to preschool, trying to keep my mind occupied by the voices of the DJs, or the songs they played. When I pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to Devon’s house, my pulse picked up and the blood pumped through me with such force I could hear it in my ears.
I pulled into the driveway, trying not to stare at the attractive man standing on the porch, two coffee cups in his hands, elbows bent, and biceps stretching the cotton of his sleeves beautifully. His skin was tanned, which I imagined was only natural for a man who probably worked outdoors a lot.
His eyes tracked me as I got out of my car and I couldn’t help but notice the way his smile started on one side of his mouth and then spread across widely.
“You’re like a full service contractor, bringing me coffee and everything.” I said the words with mocked confidence, as if I were totally comfortable with attractive men doing nice things for me.
“On my good days, I can be terribly accommodating.”
“Well, thank you,” I said, trying to look him in the eyes, but finding his gaze too intense. I looked away before the blush creeping over my cheeks became too prominent. I put my key in the door and unlocked it, pushing it open and welcoming him in with a sweep of my arm.
He walked past me and held my coffee out, still smiling. “Shall we get a look at your laundry room?”
“Sure,” I said, watching him walk toward the kitchen. I took in a deep breath, tore my gaze from the broadness that was his back, and shut the door. I followed him through the house, noticing he placed his cup on the kitchen counter as he walked by, not stopping on his way to the laundry room. When I came into the laundry room, he was stooped down low touching a portion of the wall near the floor that had been under water.
“The fans did a good job of drying all this out,” he said, not looking away from the wall. “Like I said last week, the work should take a couple of weeks.” At that point his eyes looked up at me as I stood in the doorway. “Do you work from home?”
I was caught a little off guard by his question, trying to find the link between his previous statement and the question he’d asked me, trying to formulate an answer. He must have noticed my confusion and tried to explain.
“Most people work during the day, so they give me a key and I do the work while they’re out of the house. But this was twice now you’ve been home so I assumed…” His voice trailed off and he was obviously looking for me to fill in some of the blanks.
“I don’t live here. This isn’t my house.”
“Not your house?”
“No. This is Devon’s house. He lives here with his children.”
“I guess I kind of figured you were-”
“No.” I was compelled to tell him everything, but also afraid to tell him anything. He was, after all, a stranger. But for some reason, I wanted to tell him who I was, who Devon was, how it came to be that his children were a part of my life.
“Do you think he will be all right giving me a key then?”
I shrugged. Honestly, after their testosterone battle the week before, I wasn’t sure what he’d be okay with. “I can ask him.”
Nate stood, shaking his head, wiping his hands on his jeans. “No, it’s fine. I can ask. He’s the homeowner.” He looked at me, his eyes piercing, brows furrowed. Suddenly, he sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to be totally inappropriate of me, but I’m really confused, so I’m just going to ask.” He didn’t give me enough time to respond before he asked his question, words spilling quickly from his mouth as if he were afraid he’d lose his nerve. “What are you to him? I mean, what’s your relationship?”
If he’d been anyone else, any other man on the planet, I’d find his question rude and intrusive. I’d tell him it was none of his business. I’d ask him to leave, tell Devon to find another contractor. I’d push him away, along with all the feelings his question brought up. I’d push it down all in an effort to avoid the answer. The answer was – I was nobody. We were nobody to each other. And I’d worked hard for ten years to make it that way. But this was the first time in ten years when I had reason to be glad Devon wasn’t anyone to me.
“Devon was married to my best friend. She died earlier this year. I help him take care of their kids. That’s all.” That’s all. Two words, so full of meaning. That’s all. A dismissive phrase. Words used to indicate unimportance. That’s all. All. Everything. That’s what Devon and his children had been to me since Liv passed. Devon had been my all for years, but standing in his house, looking at the man who was supposed to repair its walls, suddenly my all, my everything, seemed to shift.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” he said with so much sincerity, all I could do was smile.
“She was a great mom. I’m just here to get them to school on time and be here when they come home. He’s still trying to figure out how to do it all without her.”