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Clara
Our detour to Motor Zone had not been fruitful in lightening traffic. Only now, my head was pounding, and based on the whining coming from the back of the car, Nellie was minutes from losing her shit.
Take a number, kiddo.
Jake.
I saw Jake.
Jake had fixed my car and picked up my daughter. Jake was real. A mechanic. He worked in Colorado, so he must have lived here too, not some rugged ranch in Wyoming like I’d pictured.
The entire time in his presence this evening had been like an extension of the fever dream from last weekend. I couldn’t recall anything I said, but I was left with the impression I’d acted like a mega-bitch—my defense mechanism of choice.
I pressed my foot down on the brake yet again, and Nellie let out a quiet little sob. Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, her reflection showed her pouty bottom lip and tears welling in her beautiful eyes.
That poky little lip got me every single time.
“I have an idea, Nell-Belle. What if we stop for chicken nuggets and french fries?” I pointed toward the fast-food restaurant ahead of us. “I don’t think I can make it home without getting food in my tummy. What do you say?”
“Can I have apple juice too?”
“I think I can make that happen.”
Her fists shot up in victory, and she started telling me about all the times she’d visited this restaurant with her grandparents—far more than I’d been informed of. I could almost hear my mother telling me it was her right as Grandma to spoil Nellie. Ironic since she’d never let anything processed pass my or my brother’s lips when we were little.
Luckily for all of us, my apron strings were a little looser. That might’ve been because I had no choice but to roll with the punches. After all, necessity was the mother of invention, and the horrific ending of my marriage had forced me to reinvent who I saw myself as a woman and mother.
We parked, and Nellie practically leaped from the car when I opened her door. I grabbed her hand in mine, and we took off across the relatively empty parking lot and into the restaurant. A smattering of diners filled tables, and there were a couple people in line to order. Nellie and I got behind an older couple, and I stared up at the menu, even though I already knew I was going to order a grilled cheese and waffle fries.
“Jake!” Nellie exclaimed.
I nodded absently toward the dessert section of the menu. “We can split a shake if you eat all your dinner.”
A low chuckle from behind me had the hair on my arms standing on end. “It seems my stalking claim might actually have some validity.”
“Mommy, Jake is here,” Nellie cried, like this was the most amazing development that could have taken place and not a scene from a horror film.
I swiveled around, shocked beyond reason to find him. Sucking in a deep breath, I gathered my composure.
“I might accuse you of stalking since we were here first.”
His mouth twitched. “Nah, I just like the burgers. Never imagined I’d run into you twice in one night, much less in a place like this.”
I gave Nellie’s hand a squeeze. “To be honest, we don’t come here a lot, but I didn’t think Nellie—or me, for that matter—could make it home without gnawing a limb off.”
His mouth lifted. “Now I need to know who was going to eat who.”
“It was something of a self-cannibalism situation.”
He winced. “It’s a good thing you stopped then.”
Nellie tugged on my hand. “It’s our turn, Mommy.”
I gladly turned away from Jake, relieved the opportunity to discuss cannibalism was closed. What was it about him that made me behave this way? First, I’d been a cold bitch. Now, I was a sputtering ingenue. At thirty-seven, I was well past my ingenue days. None of this was a good look.
Nellie and I placed our order and went in search of a table.
Well…I thought we had. When I looked down, Nellie wasn’t by my side. Instead, she was bringing up the rear, dragging Jake by his index finger.
