Mr. Nice Guy by Belinda Williams

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chelsea didas she was told and sat down, but in the meantime decided that no matter how angry Barb might be about Chelsea finding out, Chelsea needed to know more. Barb had three employees depending on her, not to mention thirty children and their parents.

‘When were you going to tell us?’ Chelsea demanded before Barb could say anything else, sounding more confident than she felt.

Barb’s steely expression faltered. She glanced behind her towards the desk chair, then lowered herself into it.

‘I’d have preferred you didn’t know at all,’ the older woman said.

‘But how? How will you be able to hide having surgery from us?’ Chelsea questioned.

Barb sniffed. ‘It’s routine. I was going to take some annual leave.’

‘So it’s not serious?’ Chelsea asked, a little of the emotion she felt creeping into her voice.

Barb could be difficult to work for, but Chelsea didn’t want anything to happen to her, despite any jokes she might make about the old Dragon Lady.

‘I’m having a pacemaker inserted. It’s not a death sentence. I have a good specialist, I’m on medication, and I’ll continue to be monitored. Heart problems run in my family, unfortunately.’

‘Thank God,’ Chelsea breathed. At Barb’s raised eyebrows, Chelsea added, ‘You can be annoying, but I don’t want you dead.’ Chelsea winced, and to her surprise, Barb chuckled.

‘I know I’m a tough old bird,’ she agreed. ‘But that’s what the doctors say will help keep me alive.’

‘I’m so glad, but please don’t feel that you have to do this on your own. We can—’

‘That’s enough. I’ll handle this exactly as I please, and that’s with as minimum fuss and crisis as possible. I don’t plan on making a public announcement. I’ve only told my sister.’

‘Were you planning on telling us?’

Barb considered Chelsea’s question. ‘Were you planning on telling me about your further study?’

Touché.

‘Eventually,’ Chelsea replied.

‘Right back at you, then.’

Chelsea resisted a smile. Tough old bird, indeed.

‘What’s your long-term plan?’ Barb asked, and her expression was curious.

Chelsea picked at the stitching on her jeans. ‘Well, nothing concrete at this stage. I just felt that, after so many years in the industry, it makes sense to be better qualified so that I can maybe run my own centre one day.’

‘You’re smart and competent, and you have a gift with children. You’d be good at it,’ Barb agreed.

Chelsea didn’t try to hide her surprise at the unexpected compliment.

‘What?’ Barb retorted. ‘You are. I’m glad you’re finally starting to see it.’

‘You are?’

Barb huffed. ‘You young folk are always so in need of praise, it’s ridiculous.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘Anyway, we need more people like you in this industry raising the bar. You don’t need me to tell you how undervalued we are, and you’re very brave to stick with it.’

‘I can’t imagine doing anything else,’ Chelsea said, and she knew it to be true.

It was funny. Until Tom had questioned and encouraged her, Chelsea had always thought she’d merely been floating through life with no direction. Thanks to him, she was coming to realise that maybe she was where she was supposed to be all along.

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ Barb queried.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you intend on staying in Newcastle long term?’

Chelsea shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. I really like it here, and it’s not too far from my family in Sydney. As you know, this isn’t the highest paying industry, so living outside of Sydney makes more financial sense.’

‘Would you consider being here longer, perhaps, if you were offered a centre to run?’

Chelsea stared at Barb with what she suspected was a dumb look on her face. Was Barb saying what Chelsea thought she was saying?

‘You heard me,’ Barb went on. ‘As we’ve established, I’m not getting any younger. I’m not going to bore you with any of that “I saw my life flash before my eyes” nonsense, but this heart business has made me think about things. The children are my life. But in saying that, I want to be able to have more time to enjoy what I have left of my life, too. Part of that is spending time with the children. Another part of that is doing things I have always wanted to do. My sister and I would like to travel. I’d like to get a dog. Nothing life-changing. Just simple things.’

‘You want a dog?’

‘Can’t you imagine me with a dog? I’m told the regular walks will be good for my heart.’

No, actually, Chelsea couldn’t, but that wasn’t important. ‘Are you suggesting that you would like me to run Kinder Kids?’

‘Not straightaway. You’re not qualified. But you will be, by which time I’ll be ready to take a step back. And you’ll need help getting your head around all the accreditation. It’s a nightmare, I tell you. I still want to do story time now and then, and spend time with the kids.’

‘Of course,’ Chelsea agreed, but her head was still spinning.

The skin around Barb’s eyes crinkled in an uncharacteristic smile. ‘Not much of a job offer, is it? An ailing old woman suggesting that she’ll relinquish her business to you, but in the same sentence telling you she’ll butt her nose into your business on an ongoing basis.’

‘You’re not ailing,’ Chelsea said without thinking, and Barb’s smile deepened. ‘And it’s not as bad as it sounds, actually. It would be good to have someone to mentor me.’

At Barb’s unimpressed expression, Chelsea tried again.

‘I mean, not mentor exactly.’ Chelsea knew Barb considered that a fluffy, new-age concept. ‘More like consult. You know how in professional service firms, when someone is nearing retirement, they take a step back and consult a few days a week? More like that.’

Her father had done something similar in his accountancy firm.

Barb nodded approvingly. ‘Yes, that’s more like it. Anyhow, think things over. I’m not going anywhere yet, and you need to consider your options.’

Chelsea nodded. ‘Thank you. So much. I never expected—’

Barb held up a hand and Chelsea stopped.

‘No gushing. It’s not necessary, and you know I don’t like it. Furthermore, if you breathe a word of this to any of the others before I’m ready to discuss it, you’ll be the one meeting an early grave, not me.’

Chelsea bit back a laugh. She was pretty sure it was against the law to threaten an employee, but the laws were different in the time Barb came from. Besides, Chelsea knew Barb didn’t mean it.

For all her gruffness, Barb was great with the children. Patient. Motherly. Calm. Practical. While the kids might go to Chelsea to chat, they always gravitated towards Barb when they were feeling scared or hurt. Barb’s strength and reliability were the reasons their waiting list was longer than most centres in the area. Chelsea hoped she could keep the business living up to that reputation if she chose to accept her boss’s offer.

Chelsea stood. ‘I’d better get back to work.’

‘Yes. Off you go.’

Chelsea smiled to herself as she left, thinking that, funnily enough, it didn’t look like she was going to be going anywhere for a long time to come. As it turned out, she felt genuinely excited about the concept.

* * *

By the timeChelsea arrived home, she was feeling more positive about things. So what if Tom didn’t trust her? They could work on that. The fact that Barb trusted her enough to include Chelsea in her long-term business plans spoke volumes.

See?She wanted to say to Tom. My boss trusts me, so I must be trustworthy.

Deep down, Chelsea understood why Tom might be hesitant to pursue things with her. Her track record when it came to guys wasn’t exactly inspiring. But that could change, she decided.

Chelsea had never attempted to have a long-term relationship with a nice guy, and it was about damn time she gave it a shot.

She just had to convince Tom.

When he arrived home later that night, he looked surprised to see her.

‘Hi,’ Chelsea said brightly to make it clear she wasn’t the sort of person to hold a grudge.

‘Hey.’ That was all he said, then he went into the kitchen.

Chelsea hesitated in the lounge room. The television was on with some Netflix series she’d been half-watching so it wouldn’t seem like she’d been waiting for him—which she had.

When he headed towards the hallway, Chelsea jumped up. ‘Can we talk?’

Tom stopped, but didn’t look like he wanted to be there.

Chelsea gestured to the front balcony. ‘Outside? It’s a nice night.’

At least that way she wouldn’t be tempted to yell again. She hadn’t meant to get so worked up last night. She’d obviously been tired and emotional.

Tom hesitated.

‘It won’t be for long,’ Chelsea told him, although she had no idea how long this conversation would go for. That would depend on him.

He followed behind her at a distance as she headed outside. The late spring evening was mild, and Chelsea could just catch the scent of salt water hanging in the air.

Tom joined her on the balcony, and Chelsea noticed he deliberately stood at the far end. She experienced a sharp pang of sadness, wondering silently where her happy nice guy had disappeared to. Then she pulled herself together and spoke.

‘The university is processing my application, but it’s looking promising,’ she told him. ‘My boss accidentally found out, and she offered for me to take over the centre once I’m qualified when she’s nearing retirement.’

‘Accidentally?’

Trust Tom to notice that part. Chelsea waved a hand in the air. ‘I was going to tell her. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet, but the university got in contact with her to check my employment history.’

Tom nodded. ‘That’s great, Chels. Really great. I’m happy for you.’

He didn’t sound happy for her. He sounded tired and flat, like he couldn’t generate enthusiasm for anything. He went to step back inside, and she caught his arm.

He looked down at her fingers, and Chelsea removed her hand quickly. The pang of sadness was replaced with a rush of fury that things had become so bad between them in such a short space of time that he didn’t want her touching him. She pushed the emotion aside and tried to remain upbeat.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said. ‘It had been a long day, and I didn’t mean to push things quite so much. I understand why you don’t trust me. I really do. Me, the girl who is constantly bouncing from one boyfriend to the next. I appreciate it doesn’t encourage you to have confidence in me, and I promise that absolutely nothing happened between me and Darren yesterday. I wanted to tell you that I think trust can be built. People can change. Like I told you, I don’t want to go out with those guys anymore.’

Tom remained silent. It would be easy for Chelsea to race to fill the gap in the discussion, but she stopped herself and gave him the time he needed.

Eventually, he sighed. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to approach things differently.’

And?

She managed to hold her tongue.

He looked past her, out into the street. The suburban neighbourhood was settling into a quiet slumber for the night. It seemed to Chelsea that he wasn’t seeing the streetlights or the parked cars. He appeared to be focused on the night sky like he could see something she couldn’t.

‘Tom?’ she said finally, because she couldn’t bear it anymore.

He sighed again. ‘I’m not your guy, Chelsea.’

If it was possible, she was sure she felt her heart fracture in more than one place, but she tried to stay calm. ‘Can you help me understand why you feel that way?’

He tapped his fingers absently on the railing. ‘When I said I didn’t trust you, it was only partly true.’

Chelsea’s heart leapt. This was good, wasn’t it? It meant they could work towards building trust between them.

Tom registered her hopeful expression and shook his head. ‘You’re right. Trust can be built, but that’s not the problem in this case. The problem is that I don’t trust myself.’

‘In what way?’

‘In more ways than one, but the most important is that I don’t trust myself to not try to save you.’

Chelsea frowned. ‘When have you ever tried to save me?’

He threw his hands in the air. ‘What do you mean, “When have I ever tried to save you”? Isn’t that what this entire stupid nice guy arrangement has been about? To save you?’

Chelsea’s frown deepened. This was the most animated she’d seen him since . . . well, since he’d seen her with Darren.

‘I don’t need saving,’ she replied carefully. ‘But I am open to change. Change can be a good thing, can’t it? Especially if it equates to growth. The university study will change me, but in a constructive way.’

Tom thrust a hand through his already dishevelled hair. ‘I swore I would never do it again.’

‘What?’

‘Try to fix someone.’

Chelsea stared at him. Her first instinct was to protest that she didn’t need fixing, but she suddenly realised this was about more than her. It was also about his past.

‘Is that what you’ve done before?’ she asked softly. ‘Fixed someone?’ She didn’t dare utter the word “Gemma” again after how well it had gone down last night.

He dropped his hands to his side and gave her such a sad look that she wanted to gather him up in her arms like she would with one of her children.

He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Um, it kind of does—’

‘No. It doesn’t,’ he snapped.

Chelsea shut her mouth like she’d been stung. They were silent for half a minute, both becoming far too interested in a car pulling out across the street and driving off into the distance.

Chelsea closed her eyes. She couldn’t avoid it any longer. ‘So, do you want to go back to just being friends and housemates then? Is that what you’re saying?’

Even as she said the words, they hurt. It wasn’t a sharp pain like when you accidentally cut your finger on the edge of a knife. This was more of a dull ache that was settling deep into her bones and body that she felt helpless to fight.

This wasn’t how she’d wanted this evening to go. She’d been feeling optimistic and eager for what the future might hold if they both decided to work together. Now it was pretty clear Tom didn’t share her outlook—or her positivity, for that matter. It seemed so at odds with the Tom she knew. The “just get on with it”, easygoing Tom who took everything in his stride.

Damn you, Gemma, and whatever you did to cause this.

It wasn’t particularly rational to be blaming all their problems on Tom’s ex-fiancée when she knew nothing about her or what had happened. But at least it gave Chelsea a target for her anger, because directing it at Tom—this sad, withdrawn version of Tom—didn’t seem remotely fair.

Maybe, just maybe, if they went back to the way things were for a while and Chelsea gave Tom his space, they could work on things. The space might be good for him.

It took Chelsea a moment to realise Tom hadn’t responded to her question. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t seen the way he was clutching the railing.

‘Tom?’

He pushed away from the edge of the balcony and turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry, Chelsea. But I think you should move out.’