Page 34 of Never With You
Neither of us speaks.
What’s there to talk about besides work?
I can’t think of anything I would have in common with Nate Farnsworth.
“This is the last box.”Nate hoists it into the back of his truck. I happily watch, letting him do all the heavy lifting.
“What’s that noise?” My eyes glance around, but we’re the only two people in the parking lot of the embroidery shop. “It’s like a beeping sound.”
He slams the back of his truck shut and glances at his wrist. “Oh, it’s my stupid Apple Watch, alerting me that my heart rate is elevated.”
“You can go into your settings and change that if you don’t want the entire world to know how out of shape you are.”
He gives me a cocky grin while spreading his arms out to the side. “Nothing about this body is out of shape.”
“Your Apple Watch says differently.”
His arms drop in defeat. “It’s new, and I haven’t taken the time to get all the settings where I want them.”
We climb into the truck and buckle our seatbelts. My phone connects as soon as he starts the engine, picking back up with the last chorus of “Take on Me.”
“I think we made some great choices for the room drops. The tube of Chapstick with the Pureskin logo on it was a really good idea. I knew you’d be valuable to bring along.”
My brows drop, skeptical of his compliment. “Thanks.”
The music pauses as a phone call comes over the speaker.
Nate eyes my device. “Is that your boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say as I try to disconnect from his car speaker. “It’s a number I don’t recognize.”
“Then don’t answer. I never do.”
“Don’t answer?” I’m not capable of ignoring a phone call. I’ll spend the next hour wondering who’s trying to get ahold of me. “It could be the store calling us. Maybe we left one of the swag boxes there.”
“So answer, then.”
“I’m trying to disconnect it first.”
He reaches out and accepts the call on his car screen. “Hello?”
I give him a sharp look, making it clear I don’t appreciate the invasion of phone call privacy.
“I’m looking for Carly Catterson,” a woman says over the car speaker.
My chin tilts upward to where the microphone is. “This is she.”
“Hi, Miss Catterson. This is Wendy from Brookside Elementary. We have you down as one of Caroline's emergency contacts.”
My chest constricts. “Is everything okay?”
“Caroline isn’t feeling well. She’s throwing up—once in her classroom and multiple times in the nurse's office. We need a family member to come pick her up.”
Nate’s jaw is wide open as he mouths, “You’re a mom?”
I hit his arm, offended that he would even jump to that conclusion. “Have you called my mom yet?”
“Yes, we tried Nancy and Clark. Neither of them answered. You’re the next emergency contact on the list.”
