Page 9 of The Greatest Gift

The child support Nakul brought will help stock the fridge and buy the few snacks Stevie truly enjoys. Everything has been smoothed over with the case worker, letting them know I have the money in hand. It’s not something I want to go through again but knowing Ava, it’s only a matter of time before she stops paying again.

That’s a future me problem.

I lose myself to my thoughts as I navigate the holiday chaos, tossing items into my cart. Working down my list with practiced ease, I don’t even have to look at the signs above each aisle to know where I’m headed. All the essentials are available despite the holiday rush which is a minor win.

However, when I reach the checkout counter, I dig into my pocket for my wallet—and my stomach drops.

It’s not there.

I pat my pockets, checking again, but it’s hopeless. My wallet is probably at home, sitting on the kitchen counter where I left it this morning after grabbing my shopping list.

“Seriously?” I mutter under my breath, frustration bubbling to the surface.

The cashier gives me a sympathetic look and I start to explain, already planning to abandon the cart and come back later. But before I can finish, a voice behind me speaks up.

“I’ve got it.”

I turn, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Standing there, holding a basket of groceries, is Nakul. He looks just as polished as he did yesterday, his hair pulled into a tight ponytail, showing off the sharp angles of his jaw. There’s no irritation in his expression, just a genuine desire to help.

“You,” I say, my voice laced with disbelief. “What are you doing here? Are you stalking me now?” It’s supposed to be a joke but definitely doesn’t come off that way. I curse some part of that on how often people usually demand something in return.

Nakul chuckles, shaking his head. “Apparently, we’re just on the same path today.”

He steps forward, handing his rewards card to the cashier before I can argue. I watch in stunned silence as he pays for my groceries, wondering if there’s something he’ll ask of me afterward. He adds his groceries in as well before swiping his card and then taking the rewards one back as well.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” I say as the cashier hands me the receipt.

“I know,” Nakul replies with a shrug. “But I wanted to.”

There’s something about Nakul, something that makes my belly do these little flips, and my cheeks heat when he’s around. My first time meeting him, I couldn’t quite understand what I was feeling. I thought it was just mild familiarity but that’s not it. I don’t know what it is. His Good Samaritan act is giving me ideas, ideas that should absolutely not be in my head.

Nakul seems oblivious as he helps me load my bags into the trunk, his fingers brushing mine every so often as we accidentally reach for the same bag. Once the last bag is in, he closes the trunk and leans against the car, his expression unreadable. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“Lunch,” he repeats, his gaze steady. “Have you eaten?”

“No, but—”

Before I can finish, he pulls a sandwich from one of his bags and holds it out to me.

“Nakul, I can’t just—”

“You can,” he interrupts. “Eat.”

I hesitate, feeling equal parts embarrassed and touched by his insistence. Eventually, I take the sandwich, unwrapping it slowly. It’s a simple ham and cheese with mustard but it means the world. No one other than my own family members has ever seen through me this easily. It’s a bit terrifying.

As I take a bite, I catch Nakul watching me with an expression that’s hard to read—part amusement, part concern. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” I say, my words muffled by the food.

“I’m not babysitting,” he replies, crossing his arms. “I’m just making sure you don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

I let out a bitter laugh. Whoisthis man? Because he’s definitely not the Nakul from high school, the one who didn’t have a care in the world. “Yeah, well, easier said than done.”

Nakul’s expression softens. “I get that. But you can’t pour from an empty cup, Judd. Stevie needs you to be okay.”

He must be on the same wavelength as my mother because she said the same thing. “You’re not wrong,” I admit, my voice quiet. While I’ve tried to do it all alone, I just can’t. The single mothers and fathers out there who are powerhouses, keeping up their house and home on their own are my heroes. But I know my limits and the lone wolf routine is growing old.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the bustling parking lot fading into the background. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel seen—like someone understands the weight I’ve been carrying.

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