Sweet Nothing: Novel

I’d slept away the afternoon, hoping to be awake when Avery finally finished her shift. Four and a half hours wasn’t nearly enough. Seeing each other outside of work was becoming impossible.

I scratched my head and crawled out of bed, pulling on my gray sweatpants. Avery would be home in twenty minutes. I couldn’t shake the excitement of owning a home, watching Avery pick out where we would raise our children.

I picked up my phone, dialing Dad’s number. We chatted for two hours before deciding that selling my Barracuda could possibly net me enough for a down payment on a home. We’d have to move farther out of Philadelphia, into the suburbs, but it was doable. I fantasized about a big garage. I would need a vehicle with four doors once we started to expand our family anyway.

I wasn’t sure what Avery would think about me restoring cars for some extra money, and maybe, if all went well, I could turn it into a business and a full-time career. It was a gamble, but if we were patient and did things right, we would get to spend more time together, and later, with our children.

I padded into the kitchen, pulling ingredients for fettuccini Alfredo, Avery’s favorite.

It was a full moon, and Quinn had said Deb was complaining about back-to-back multi-car accidents. Avery would be exhausted. Adding the stress of waiting for her test results would be too much for her.

I set our table with the nice dishes with the swirly patterns and flowery shit the nurses had gotten us for a wedding gift. I smiled at myself. Avery was going to love it. Just as the Dodge rumbled outside, I finished stringing up a few white Christmas lights for ambience, a subtle reminder of the day I’d made her my wife. Part of me hoped the occasion would be more than trying to cheer Avery up, and she would come home to tell me for sure that she was pregnant.

After several minutes and no sign of Avery, I looked out the window. It wasn’t her Dodge I’d heard, but the Mustang from the guy in 14B. I frowned. I had more work to do on the Dodge if I could mistake it for that * Mustang.

As the sun sank down behind the buildings across the street, the subtle hues of the orange and blue sky faded into blackness, broken up by millions of tiny, twinkling specks.

I looked at the watch Avery had gotten me for Christmas. The memory brought a smile to my face, but it faded when I took in the time.

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I dialed her number. It rang four times before her voice filled my ear, rushed and overwhelmed.

“What’s going on, baby?” I asked.

“Have you been watching the news?” she asked.

“No, baby, I’ve been cooking you dinner.”

She groaned. “I’m starving.”

“I can bring it to you? I’ll put it in that hot food keeper thing your aunt bought you for a wedding present.”

She sighed. “Thank you, really, but I won’t have time. A busload of senior citizens is overloading the ER right now. There was a massive fire down at Oakridge Home.”

“You need me to come in?”

“No, no. We have things under control, but I won’t be home anytime soon.”

I turned around, glancing at the twinkling lights. “It’s fine. Just keep me updated.”

“I will.”

The phone disconnected as the I love you I was about to say died in my throat.

“Perfect,” I mumbled, sliding the phone back into my pocket.





“It’s no big deal,” I whispered to Hope.

She still looked frazzled even though Toby had finally passed out.

I’d listened to his pained cries for over an hour before deciding to knock on her door and offer help, even if it was just to take him off her hands for a few minutes before she lost her mind.

I swayed back and forth while he drooled on my sleeve, worried he would wake up if I stilled.

Jamie McGuire & Teresa Mummert's books