This is what it feels like to get stabbed in the chest.
I knew this man was going to break my heart. I’m so stupid.
With the back of my hand, I try to wipe the tears, but the torrent keeps coming. For some reason, it’s at this moment I remember Tiffany’s cruel words that Nick doesn’t want me around in the spring anyway. That, according to Jinxy, Nick was just banging me to win football games. And let’s not forget that he introduced me as “the nanny” to Gemma’s parents.
“I guess you don’t need your lucky charm anymore, hmm? You’ve already won all of your games.” Because, obviously, this is a breakup. It’s not like Nick wants me to stay at his house when he doesn’t need me to babysit anymore.
Why am I standing here crying when he obviously doesn’t give a damn about me?
He frowns at me. “What does that mean?”
Rolling my eyes, I sneer, “Ask Jinxy.” I shake my head. “It’s funny that I thought you were such a great guy.”
Turning on my heel, I head for the exit.
“Abby, wait.”
I start to run, and he doesn’t follow me.
Why am I not surprised?
41
NICK
A million tests later, I finally get the green light to take Hazel home. She yawns in my arms as I carry her out of the hospital.
When we exit the ER doors, my lungs expand for the first time since I got the message Hazel was in a car accident.
Hands down, today was the second worst day of my life. I’m just grateful my daughter is okay. The doctor says she’ll be sore for a while.
After I get her situated in her car seat and I start my SUV, my first instinct is to call Abby and let her know we’re headed home.
Except…
I cringe. I said some pretty harsh shit to her this afternoon.
Tilting my head back on the seat, I stare at the roof. Maybe I should get her some roses or buy her dinner. But I’m not sure that’ll cut it.
“Hazel, when Abby picked you up from school, did your tummy bother you?”
“It stawted to huwt.”
I get a sinking feeling in my chest. “Honey, did you think you might puke?”
“Yup. I kept buwping.”
Shit. I totally railroaded Abby when she tried to explain how she was worried about my daughter. And now that I’m sitting in my car, as I think about the logistics of Hazel in the back seat, if I heard her burping after puking the day before, I’d be twisting back to check on her too.
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
If I got that screwed up, what else did I get wrong?
I’m still not crazy that Abby was driving with a jacked-up transmission, but she said it only started malfunctioning today. The cop didn’t look like he believed her, but why didn’t I? She’s never lied to me before.
On the other hand, she did admit her clutch was slipping before today… I blow out a breath. She was probably trying to get some more mileage out of the damn thing. Transmissions are expensive to fix. I can’t blame her for hoping she could keep it running longer.
When I put all of that together—her car acting weird and Hazel burping in the back seat—it’s no wonder she might’ve been a little distracted. But Abby is the most responsible person I know. She always takes great care of my daughter. Always does fun activities with her. Keeps her well fed and clean. Listens to her when she chatters.
