Chapter 3
Nicole didn't come back until the next night.
She'd been gone for almost forty hours.
She was still in the same gray suit she'd worn when she left two days ago, her hair half down, and her heels dangling from her hand.
Her footsteps were very light.
As if she were afraid of waking someone up.
But I wasn't asleep.
I was sitting on the couch in the living room, the TV on with the volume turned down low. On the coffee table, there was a bowl of spicy ramen covered in plastic wrap, with a note next to it:.
Nicole stood in the entryway and glanced at me.
Her gaze was hard to read.
It held exhaustion, hesitation, and something else I couldn't quite name.
"Why aren't you asleep?" she asked.
"I was waiting for you," I said.
"Why were you waiting for me?" she asked.
"I was worried you'd be hungry," I said, nodding at the bowl of spicy ramen.
Nicole didn't move.
She just stood there, barefoot on the floor, staring at me for a few seconds.
Then she suddenly asked, "Did my dad come by?"
"Yeah, he did," I said.
"What did he say to you?" she asked.
"He wanted me to sign the divorce papers," I replied.
Nicole's expression barely shifted; her lips curled slightly, as if she wanted to give a bitter smile but couldn't quite manage it.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"I told him I wouldn't sign," I replied.
She finally showed a reaction, her brows furrowed.
"Ryan, do you even know what's going on right now?" she asked.
"Yeah, I know. Over three hundred million dollars in debt, the company's under investigation, and the stock's tanked," I said, leaning back on the couch. "I've scrolled through the trending topics three times already."
"Then why are you still, " she started.
"Nicole," I cut her off. "Sit down, eat something first. We can talk after you've eaten."
She didn't move.
"If you're going to talk to me while standing, I'll just think you're holding a board meeting," I said, getting up to put the bowl of spicy ramen in the microwave. "I'm not your subordinate, so drop the bossy tone with me."
The microwave hummed for two minutes.
When I brought it out, Nicole was already sitting at the dining table.
Her heels were kicked off to the side, and her coat was draped over the back of the chair.
She was curled up there, looking smaller than usual.
I slid the bowl of spicy ramen in front of her.
She picked up her fork and took a bite.
Then another, and another.
Halfway through, she suddenly stopped.
She set her fork on the edge of the bowl, making a soft clink.
"Ryan," she said.
"Yeah?" I replied.
"We might lose the company," Nicole said.
I didn't say anything.
"We were framed for financial fraud, but the evidence against us is solid. The lawyers say there's no way we can turn things around anytime soon. The bank's frozen all our credit lines, and now every supplier wants cash up front."
Her voice was strangely calm as she said all this.
She's way too calm.
It's almost creepy how calm she is.
"Even this house is mortgaged," she said, meeting my eyes. "If you want out, now's your chance. I won't hold it against you."
I leaned against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed.
"Nicole, can you stop with this kind of talk already?" I asked.
"I'm serious," she replied.
"So am I," I said, walking over and sitting down across from her. "Here's the deal: my one true skill in life is blowing your cash. Now that you're out of money, I guess I'll have to help you get rich again, so I can."
She looked up at me.
Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying.
Nicole never lets herself cry in front of me.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said with a nod. "I've just got this thing for spending your money, can't be cured."
Her mouth twitched.
I couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or snap at me.
She just picked up the bowl and kept eating.
When she got to the last sip of soup, she muttered something under her breath.
It was so quiet, I almost missed it.
"Thanks," she murmured.
I acted like I didn't hear her. Because I knew if I said anything, she'd probably really lose it and start crying.
Nicole's the type who'd just get pissed at herself for crying.
Whatever. Let her handle it her way.
I went to wash the dishes.