Chapter 8

After staying up until way too late last night working on another 3D superhero for Nico’s collection, I struggle to get out of bed. I’ve never been a morning person, but Ellie is—

Shit.

For a second, I selfishly wish Ellie were still here to help me. It’s a stupid thought, and I beat myself up over the compulsive reaction as I crawl out from underneath the comforter and head downstairs to prepare Nico’s breakfast.

After last night, pancakes feel like the best choice, so I gather the ingredients and get to work on making Nico’s favorite meal. Usually, I stick to making a big breakfast on Saturdays, when Ellie is gone for the day, but today calls for something special.

Bribery.

I get so caught up in thinking about how to break the news to Nico that I end up burning two in the process. If Ellie were here, she’d shoo me out of my own kitchen and take over my task because, unlike me, she enjoys cooking. She even looks forward to learning new recipes while I stick to the tried-and-true family favorites of green spaghetti, mole, pozole, and filet mignon straight from the grill.

The earlier pang in my chest at the memory of Ellie returns with a vengeance, and I busy myself with preparing Nico’s lunchbox to distract myself until it’s time to wake him up.

Nico groans and yanks his comforter over his head when I open the blinds, reminding me of myself.

“I made you pancakes.” I lift the comforter and tickle the bottoms of his feet.

“Stop!” he hisses while kicking his feet out.

“Not until you get out of bed.”

He huffs and puffs as he rolls out of bed with a terrible case of bedhead and a scary frown.

“For someone who is about to eat blueberry pancakes, you sure are grumpy.”

His eyes narrow. “With whipped cream?”

“Yes.”

“And strawberries?”

“You like those?” I feign ignorance.

His head drops back with a groan.

I steer him toward the door. “Of course I added strawberries. Like I could ever forget your favorite.”

He silently follows behind me, and I brace myself as we walk past Ellie’s room. The same sick feeling of dread returns, my steps subconsciously slowing until Nico passes by me. I’m so distracted that I don’t notice the door was left ajar until Nico throws it open.

“Ellie?” He takes a step inside and halts. “Are you here? Dad made pancakes.”

Unlike Nico, I haven’t been inside Ellie’s room since the day she moved in, but I can quickly tell something is off. From the empty closet full of hangers to the house key left on top of the dresser, hints of Nico’s previous nanny remain, although her belongings do not.

“Where’s Ellie’s stuff?” Nico looks up at me with pinched brows.

I don’t answer him, mainly because I’m not sure how to. The last thing I expected was for Ellie to sneak out in the middle of the night, but then again, I didn’t give her a reason to stick around.

Despite being angry about Ellie withholding the truth, I can’t help feeling like a dick for kicking her out the way I did. Last night, I gave her a twenty-four-hour eviction notice without considering if she even had a place to go.

She has a best friend who lives in town—that much I know—but do they have room for her? I’m also aware that her mother lives somewhere in Lake Wisteria, but Ellie hasn’t said much about her before, so I’m not sure what their relationship is like.

Why do you care? She isn’t your problem anymore.

If that were true, then why does my chest feel so uncomfortably tight all of a sudden? And how do I explain the tension building underneath my skull, pulsing with every pump of my heart?

Nico shakes my arm hard enough to pull me away from my thoughts. “Why is all her stuff gone?” His voice cracks on the final word.

My reply gets trapped in my throat as he looks up at me with eyes filled to the brim with tears. I knew this conversation would be difficult, but I was hoping it could wait until after I placated him with pancakes, a new 3D-printed superhero to add to his growing collection, and an important conversation about always telling each other the truth.

“You made her leave, didn’t you?” A dark look passes over his face that I recognize too often on my own, and it instantly makes my stomach churn.

I kneel before him so we can be at eye level. “I know you care about Ellie, but I can’t let her take care of you anymore after she hid the truth from me.”

Rather than give in to the tears threatening to fall, Nico shoves me with all his might, and I wobble on my knees before regaining my balance. My kid has never been aggressive a single day in his life. Nico is a lover, not a fighter, so I’m floored by his reaction.

Floored and heartbroken, although I ignore the ache in my chest as I try to reach for him.

He steers clear of my open arms. “You told her to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why? Why?” He shoves me again, but I’m better prepared this time to take the hit, both to my heart and my body.

I gently clasp his wrists. “Use your words, not your hands.”

He tries to pull himself free of my hold. “No.”

“Nicolas,” I beg. “You know I couldn’t let her stay after what happened.”

“She’s my best friend.” Desperation bleeds into his voice.

“She was your nanny.”

“No! You don’t understand!” He tries to break out of my hold and fails. “She wanted to tell you, but I told her not to.” A single tear rolls down his cheek.

I hate myself for hurting him like this, and I hate Ellie even more for putting me in this kind of position in the first place. If she hadn’t left in the middle of the night, I could have had time to better prepare Nico for her departure.

“She’s the adult and you’re the kid. You might not have known better, but she did.”

He shakes his head repeatedly. “You took my best friend away.”

“I’ll find you someone better—”

“No! I want Ellie!”

“That’s not possible.”

“You always make everyone leave!”

I let him go, too stunned by his killing blow to do anything but sit still while my son runs back to his room. He slams the door hard enough to make the frame shake.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but I don’t get up until the ache in my knees matches the one in my chest.

You always make everyone leave. Nico’s words haunt me.

My mom. My ex-wife. Ellie. The list continues to grow, along with my trust issues.

Since I despise letting any food go to waste after going to bed hungry far too many times, I eat Nico’s serving and mine while my thoughts of self-loathing keep me company at the kitchen island.

Just a typical Tuesday.