Page 53 of The Spice Play

“Nelly.”

“He was horrible to me the other night after their home game,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket up to my chin. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since.”

She grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like,for fucks sake.

“We spoke last night, briefly. Agreed to try to be civil toward each other for Matty’s sake. I just… I don’t know, Rosie. I don’t know if I can do it after that,” I swallowed. “The things he said, the way he spoke down to me — it just felt like I was right back in it with Morris. He asked me if I was insane, and all I’ve heard is Morris saying that exact same thing on a fucking loop in my head.”

“Jesus,” she cursed. “Did he apologize, at least?”

“He tried to when he got home that night. I didn’t want to hear it.”

She clicked her tongue a few times, her squeaking chair filtering down the phone line. “Right. Okay. So, what does this mean, then? Are you going to stop sleeping with him and just watch his kid? Can you even do that?”

I sunk further into the plush outdoor chair. I wished I could hide from the world, from this conversation, from Matty, from Sebastian when he eventually came home tonight after his flight from Calgary. I didn’t want to have to answer that, because I didn’tknowthe answer.

I wanted to say yes, that I would do exactly that and just go back to being only his nanny and draw a hard line in the metaphorical sand. I wanted to say yes, I was capable of that. But every time I tried to summon the word to take shape in my mouth, it unraveled, and I was left with nothing but a sinking, worrying feeling that I’d let myself dip my toes too deep.

I’d done it again. Fuck, I’d done it again — I’d let myself base at least some of my self-worth on someone that didn’t deserve it, let myself fall a little, let myself seek comfort and guidance from someone I absolutely shouldn’t have touched. And as my mind strayed further, toward Matty and the drawing on the fridge, my chestburnedat the idea of having to break his little heart and leave both of them behind.

“You can’t, can you?”

“I don’t fucking know, Rosie,” I said. “I don’t. I’ve crossed too many wires with this.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Well, if you want yourboss'advice, I’d suggest keeping as much distance as you can from Sebastian and cutting the involvement off before it blows up, both for yourself and for my stellar ratings. I’ll keep an eye out for any other full-time gigs that come through, just in case you need out. Maybe a lesbian couple, so you can keep it in your pants.”

I needed a fucking pillow to scream into. I knew she was offering the right thing, but I hated it all the same. “Okay,” I croaked. “And what if I want advice from my friend?”

She went silent for a moment, her quiet breathing the only thing on the line. I was half convinced she’d hung up by the time she spoke, and was a second away from pulling the phone from my ear. “I think you need to look after yourself. Whatever that entails.”

————

Cold.

I was so, so cold — why was it so cold?

Someone, somewhere distant, or maybe it was just quiet, spoke nonsense about the perfect net for the perfect catch on the perfect boat, but it was muffled and confusing, and I couldn’t quite make outwhy. Reds and blues were all I could see, little flashes of them invading my vision, and mybody… it shook. Gentle, but relentlessly, I shook, my fingers and toes ice cold.

The throw pillow beneath my head was soft as could be, but it didn’t offer me any signs of warmth, even as I tried to turn my head into it.

But then the shaking ceased. All around, heat enveloped me, soft and luxurious andwarm. Something far warmer pressed against my cheek, just barely, cupping the skin and brushing back strands of hair.

The nonsensical, faraway chatter ceased at the same moment the lights stopped invading the backs of my eyelids, and all at once, it was dark, calm, warm, and familiar.

So familiar.

I’m sorry.

Chapter 22

Sebastian

“I’m sorry.”

She’d looked half peaceful, half frozen when I found Nelly passed out on the couch. She must have fallen asleep waiting for me to get back from the airport. With the television on, she’d been sprawled out in nothing but an oversized shirt and tight black shorts, every hair on her body standing on end as her teeth chattered endlessly.

Before I’d found her, I’d wanted nothing more than to relieve her of her childcare duties and go the fuck to bed. We’d won tonight, but I was exhausted, and all I’d craved was the comfort of my own mattress and the sweet relief of sleep. But then I heard the television, and curiosity got the better of me.

The temptation to carry her out the back door, into the guesthouse, and through to her bedroom had gnawed at me as I swiped my thumb across her cheekbone. But I was farmoretempted to lift her and take her up the stairs instead, slot her into bed, wrap myself around her, and join her in whatever dream she was having.

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