Big Chicas Don't Cry(75)

“Selena, I heard there’s like a pizza place on every corner,” she stressed, apparently thinking that my love of pizza would be motivation enough to move across the country.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too late now.”

Later that night, I’d done everything I could to push thoughts of New York out of my head.

But then it called me. Literally.

“Hey,” I said tentatively when I answered.

“Hey,” Nathan said.

“Are you in town?” It was instinct to ask. I immediately wished I hadn’t, though.

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Oh.”

“Listen, I think I know one of the reasons you changed your mind about the job, and I’m just calling to tell you that if you’re worried about me—or rather, what I’m expecting—then I need you not to worry about it.”

My heart raced. “What do you mean?”

“Selena, I’ve known you for over a year now. I know that you don’t do real relationships. That’s why we worked for so long. But I forgot that, okay? And that’s on me, not you. So, just forget what I said before. The New York job doesn’t come with any strings to me.”

“What New York job, Nathan? I told you to tell them I wasn’t interested. It’s too late.”

“It’s not. I never told them. And the job is yours if you want it.”

My heart stopped. “What?”

“Selena, you got the job.”

“Are you serious right now?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I am. I knew I just had to get you in the door and you’d impress the hell out of them.”

“Oh. So this is about your commission then?” I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them. He didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It was. You know I just want you to get your dream job. You deserve this.”

My heart tightened. Nathan was such a good man. Maybe I deserved the job, but I sure as hell didn’t deserve him.

“Okay, let me think about it.”

“You have a week. They can’t wait forever.”

Why were people always telling me that now?





Chapter Forty-Four


MARI


For the fourth time that day, I dialed my dad’s number.

And for the fourth time, I hung up before it even rang.

Espy’s words at Welita’s funeral still bothered me. But I wasn’t ready to deal with that whole situation. Not when I didn’t even know what was happening with my own marriage.

I put my phone back down on the counter and put on my oven mitts. Slowly, I pulled the lasagna out of the oven and then placed it on the stove. I inhaled wafts of garlic, tomato, and cheese, and my stomach rumbled with hunger. Skipping lunch wasn’t the best idea, but I wanted to make sure to have an appetite since Esteban had promised he’d be home by six for dinner.

After telling me he wanted to work on our marriage on the day after Welita died, he’d made somewhat of an effort to spend more time with me. He’d even agreed to go to couples counseling. But that was days ago, and every time I’d tried to get him to nail down a day for our first appointment, he always had some excuse. I was determined to find a date tonight. The lasagna and a bottle of his favorite red wine were going to help me do just that.

My phone rang, and my heart sank, already expecting it would be Esteban telling me that he was going to be late. But it wasn’t my husband. It was Chris.

I hesitated before answering. If I was going to try to fix things with Esteban, then I needed to put space between me and Chris. And there was no better time to do that than now.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey you,” he replied, his voice soft and soothing. “How’s it going?”

I walked into the dining room and took a seat. “Um, good. I actually just finished cooking dinner.”

“Really? What did you make? Wait. Don’t tell me. It will make me regret the bologna sandwich I just made.”

I laughed. “Well, that’s weird. I made a bologna sandwich too.”

“Yeah, right. But I appreciate the effort to make me feel better about my pitiful dinner. But you know what would make me feel better?”

“What’s that?”

“How about we meet for dinner sometime this week, you know, one night that Esteban has to meet a client?”

I didn’t say anything right away. If I told him I couldn’t, then he’d just ask again. I had to tell him the truth, and I had to do it face to face. It was the only way to make Chris understand.

The sound of the garage door opening made me jump.

“Actually, how about coffee on Sunday? Esteban is taking one of your clients to the country club for brunch.”

“Sure. That sounds great. Should I pick you up?”

I heard a car door slam and knew I had to get off the phone. “No, I’ll meet you there at eleven, okay? I have to go. Bye, Chris.”

I didn’t even wait for him to reply.

By the time Esteban was inside the house, I was already opening the wine. I heard him stop at his home office, and I carried the lasagna dish to the dining room table. A few minutes later, he joined me.

After a quick kiss on the cheek, he sat down and took a long sip of his wine.