Chapter Four

Chapter 4

Nancy kicked off her shoes the moment she walked in the door and flopped dramatically onto the couch, limbs akimbo, like a starfish that had just survived a thunderstorm. Her cheeks still ached from smiling too much. She stared up at the ceiling, giddy, heart thumping with a rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.

Crowley had been adorable. Ethan had been even more so. God, they had clicked. It had been a date with no pretense, no awkward pauses, just the kind of effortless magic that makes you feel like you’re in the right chapter of your life at last.

She grabbed her phone and opened her messages, fingers flying before she could think better of it.

Nancy: Date was amazing. Like... amazing amazing. I don’t even know how to explain. I think I like him.

She hit send before her heart could talk her out of it.

Mark responded in seconds.

Mark: Wow. Alert the press. Nancy Thompson voluntarily used the word "like" in reference to a human male and it wasn’t followed by "a fungus" or "a red flag". Truly, we live in unprecedented times.

She snorted.

Nancy: Shut up. I'm serious.

Mark: I know you are. Which is why I'm teasing you so you don’t melt into a puddle of hope and hormones. But also... I'm glad. You deserve an Ethan. Maybe not his dog, though. That thing has murder in his eyes.

Nancy: Crowley is a sweet boy. He only tried to bite one pigeon.

Mark: Classic first date metric.

With a small, reluctant sigh, Nancy switched conversations and stared at Nellie’s name. Her thumb hovered for a second before she finally tapped it.

Nancy: The date went really well. Actually... it was kinda perfect.

The typing dots appeared immediately.

Nellie: I’m glad you had fun. But don’t get carried away, okay?

Nancy: What does that mean?

Nellie: It means it’s just a first date. People are always on their best behavior at first. You don’t know this guy, Nance. You don’t know what he’s really like.

Nancy sat up straighter, her smile fading.

Nancy: I know it’s early. But I had a good time. Can’t I just enjoy that without the doom and gloom?

Nellie: I’m not being doom and gloom. I’m being realistic. You’ve been hurt before because you jump in with your heart first. I just don’t want to see that happen again. I’ve seen it too many times.

Nancy: And what, you think you know what’s best for me?

Nellie: Honestly? Maybe I do. I am happily married, remember? I’ve got a good track record. I know how to spot the real thing.

Nancy blinked hard.

Nancy: That doesn’t mean your way is the only way.

Nellie: Look. I’m just saying... I’ve picked out a few guys I think you should meet. No pressure, just one date each. Give them a try. You might be surprised.

Nancy: You’ve already picked them out?

Nellie: I care about you. I want you to be happy. Ethan might be a good guy. But he might also be a walking red flag in khakis. Please. Just give these guys a shot.

Nancy stared at the text, her thumb twitching with the urge to slam her phone shut and throw it under the couch.

Nancy: This is ridiculous. I don’t need to be vetted like some child.

Nellie: Then stop acting like one and trust me. What you’ve been doing clearly hasn’t worked.

Nancy’s heart clenched.

Nancy: ...Fine. One date each. But if they smell like Axe body spray and use the word "crypto," I’m blaming you.

Nellie: Deal. I promise none of them own NFTs.

She tossed her phone face down onto the couch cushion.

The next morning at work, Nancy sat at her desk, aimlessly scrolling through emails she had no intention of answering. Her phone lit up twice in five minutes.

Ethan: Okay important question: if you had to live in any video game world for a year, but you’re not the main character, which would you pick?

Ethan: Also, Crowley says hi and also wants to know if you’re single because he liked your pockets.

Nancy smiled involuntarily. Then sighed. And turned her phone over.

Mark’s voice sliced into the moment like an over-caffeinated scalpel.

“You’re ignoring Mr. Dashing Dog Dad? Isn’t this the part of the romcom where you stare at your phone and whisper ‘text me, idiot’?”

Nancy glanced up. Mark leaned against her doorway, half-finished coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, and chaos trailing behind him like an overworked ghost.

“I want to text him,” she muttered. “I’m just... not.”

He squinted. “Is this Nellie’s doing? Are you under some sort of friend curse?”

Nancy sighed and swiveled in her chair to face him. “She’s not... wrong. My taste hasn’t exactly led to stellar results. Maybe trusting someone else’s judgment isn’t the worst idea.”

Mark pointed his coffee cup at her like it was a wand. “Blasphemy. You’re literally a genius. You’re the woman who rebranded a dying skincare line into a cult favorite with three words and a color palette.”

“Work is different.”

“Is it?” he asked, voice light but gaze serious. “Because from where I’m standing, you make bold calls, trust your gut, and they usually pay off. Why is it that the moment emotions get involved, you act like your instincts come from a Magic 8 Ball covered in blood?”

Nancy winced. “That is... vivid.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome. Look, I’m not saying Nellie doesn’t mean well. But she’s projecting. You want your life to look like hers? Minivans and brunch wars with other moms?”

Nancy shook her head slowly. “God, no.”

“Then don’t let her play air traffic control with your heart. Ethan makes you smile. Real smiles. You don’t do that for just anyone.”

She stared down at her phone, Ethan’s unanswered texts quietly glowing.

“I’m scared, Mark.”

“I know. But scared or not, you’re still the woman who once wore stilettos to a mud-filled product launch because ‘branding matters.’ You got this.”

Nancy picked up her phone.

Nancy: Video game world? Easy. Stardew Valley. I’ll take chickens and small-town gossip over dragons any day.

A beat later:

Nancy: Also, tell Crowley I’m flattered and would like to see his resume.

Her phone lit up with an instant reply, and for the first time that day, her shoulders loosened.

Mark raised his coffee and muttered, “Atta girl.”

Nancy stood in her kitchen, hair up in a makeshift bun, trying to decide if the cheese she found in the back of her fridge was still emotionally stable enough for grilled cheese. Her phone buzzed against the counter.

Nellie: 6:30pm tonight. Porter & Finch. Wear something nice. 😊

Nancy stared at the screen.

Nancy: Are you kidding? Tonight?
Nellie: Yes! You’ll love him.
Nancy: A steakhouse, Nellie?
Nellie: He’s a gentleman. Thoughtful. It’ll be good for you.
Nancy: I haven’t even had time to emotionally blackmail myself into this.
Nellie: That’s why I didn’t give you time.

Nancy’s fingers twitched. She tossed the cheese aside like it had personally offended her and stormed into her bedroom.

“I don’t even like steak,” she muttered, pulling open her closet like it might have a trapdoor to somewhere better. Clothes flew. Nothing looked right. Her nice dresses all felt too much—too plunging, too fitted, too optimistic. She finally yanked out a simple navy dress that hit just above the knee and offered minimal cleavage. She threw it on, only to stare in the mirror and immediately regret her entire existence.

“Stupid hem. Stupid hair.” She re-did her eyeliner three times. It still looked like it was applied during an earthquake. Her hair refused to sit right no matter how many times she threatened it with heat tools.

She checked the time.

“Of course I'm going to be late.”

She pulled up to the restaurant, parked crooked, and walked fast, heels clicking too loudly, dress clinging awkwardly in the humid evening air. She arrived at 6:34 PM.

Aaron was already seated. Late forties. Khaki slacks. Shirt with suspiciously crisp cuffs. His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“You’re late,” he said, not unkindly, but not kindly either. “And... that’s what you chose?”

Nancy’s jaw tightened. “It was a last-minute thing.”

He gave a shrug. “Well, we’re here now. I already ordered a bottle of red for the table.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing at the drink menu. “Actually, I was thinking something lighter—maybe a cocktail?”

Aaron waved to the waiter. “She’ll have the Cabernet.”

Nancy blinked.

Strike one.

He poured them both a glass, holding the bottle with the sort of pomp that suggested he thought this counted as chivalry. She took a sip just to avoid biting her lip in rage.

“What is it that you do Aaron? I’m in marketing and spend a fair amount of time bringing my work home with me. It’s a lot but I do love it.” Nancy tried to be civil and open up.

“I’m a criminal defense lawyer. Doesn’t really matter what they did as long as I win. Guilty, not guilty. It’s all the same to me as long as I get paid. It’s great you like your work, but if this works out, hopefully you won’t need to do it for very long.” he spoke matter-of-factly. As if the relationship was a done deal, he was just waiting for signatures.

“Oh, I’d probably keep working. I know lawyers make a lot of money, but I actually enjoy my job. It pays well, but I like doing it too.” Nancy’s eyes furrowed, confused about why he’d even suggest she stop. It felt odd, but she didn’t press trying to keep the peace.

“So,” she said, trying to steady herself, “how do you know Nellie?”

“Oh, our daughters play on the same soccer team,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Nellie said you were looking to find a man to settle down with, so I threw my hat in the ring.”

Nancy blinked. “Your daughter?”

“Yeah. Rachel. She’s eight. Sweetest thing. Honestly, I’m at a point where I just want someone stable. Someone who can be a good influence on her. A mother figure.”

Nancy felt the air drain from the room. “You’re looking for a mom?”

“Well, I’m looking for a partner. But yeah. Rachel comes first. I figured that’s something you’d understand, being Nellie’s friend and all.”

Nancy put down her wine.

“I’m sorry,” she said, standing. “This isn’t going to work.”

Aaron’s brows shot up. “Already?”

“I’m not here to audition for stepmom,” she said sharply. “And frankly, I don’t like being railroaded into a date where I don’t even get to order my own drink.”

Aaron raised his hands, exasperated. “Wow. Drama much?”

She didn’t answer. She just walked out, phone already in hand as she hit Nellie’s contact.

Voicemail.

“Hi, Nellie.” she began, voice deceptively calm. “Just wanted to say thanks for setting me up with a man who treats women like potential nannies with boobs. Really thoughtful of you. I especially loved how I got about twenty minutes notice before you catapulted me into a dinner date like I was some kind of contestant on The Bachelor: Budget Edition. Next time you feel like micromanaging my love life, don’t. Stop trying to shoehorn kids into my life. I don’t want them, and I don’t want anyone else’s either!”

She hung up, breath caught between fury and the raw ache of disappointment. Her heels clicked harder on the pavement than they had going in.

She rested her head on her hands against the steering wheel, staring daggers at the lifeless speedometer like it was Nellie's face. Her chest heaved as she tried to breathe past the rage boiling under her skin.

Had Nellie ever actually spoken to that man? Or had she just pointed at the first guy in cargo shorts yelling on the sidelines at soccer practice and thought, “He’s cute enough — I’ll shove him at Nancy like a human Band-Aid.”

Nancy’s phone buzzed in the cupholder. Nellie’s contact photo lit up the screen: her grinning face squished between Hannah and Leah like a damn Pinterest mom ad.

Nancy snatched the phone up and answered without thinking.

“What could you possibly say right now to make this better?” she hissed.

There was a pause. “What happened?” Nellie asked, her voice all forced innocence and fragile concern.

Nancy laughed — bitter and loud. “What happened? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where you blind-dated me with a sexist control freak who treated me like an audition for his daughter’s new mom?”

“I thought he was nice,” Nellie said weakly. “He’s been through a lot—”

“You thought he was cute,” Nancy snapped. “Don’t dress it up. You saw him at practice, thought he had nice arms or whatever, and decided that meant he was husband material. You didn’t even ask if I wanted to date a dad. Nellie, I don’t want kids. You know that.”

“You say that now,” Nellie muttered.

“Jesus, Nellie.” Nancy slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “There it is. Again. You always say that — like I’ll wake up one day magically craving sticky fingers and PTA meetings. But I won’t. I don’t. And that doesn’t make me broken or selfish, it just makes me me.”

“You’re going to change your mind,” Nellie said more firmly. “Everyone does when they find the right person—”

“Well, the right person sure as hell isn’t Aaron, the emotionally constipated wine-ordering misogynist.” Nancy’s voice cracked with fury. “He didn’t even ask what I wanted to drink. He just assumed. Then he spent the entire dinner talking about his needs and how he wants someone ‘stable and nurturing’ for Rachel. Like I was applying for a job I didn’t even know was posted.”

“He’s a single dad doing his best,” Nellie said, suddenly defensive.

Nancy's breath shook as she spoke, softer but colder. “You’re not listening to me. You never do. You set me up with a guy who checked your boxes, not mine.”

There was a pause.

“Like Ethan?” Nellie said, the judgment dripping through her teeth. “He’s immature, Nancy. He’s just… fun.”

“Yeah. And I like fun. I like that he actually talks to me like a human being. He’s smart, he’s kind, he’s present. He sees me. Not a future babysitter or a uterus on legs. Just me. And you hate that. Why? Because he’s not trying to turn me into you?”

“You deserve something real,” Nellie said, coldly now. “Not some fantasy.”

“No,” Nancy whispered, the fire in her voice burning low and hard. “I deserve someone who respects who I actually am. Not someone who makes me feel like I’m failing an invisible test.”

She hung up.

This time, she didn’t feel bad about it.

Nancy kicked the door shut with the heel of her shoe, flung her purse onto the couch, and collapsed like a dropped marionette. Her makeup felt like paste, her bra was biting her ribs, and her hair had achieved a level of rebellious fluff that defied logic and gravity.

She grabbed her phone and thumbed open her texts.
Nancy: Remember how Nellie said she had “the perfect guy” for me?
Just left dinner with a man who unironically ordered Cabernet for the table, called himself “a catch,” and explained that his ideal woman is “someone who could be a good influence on his daughter and not too career-focused.” HE WAS LOOKING FOR A SUBSTITUTE TEACHER WITH TITS.

Three dots popped up immediately.

Mark: So what you’re saying is… he’s a feminist icon.

Mark: Honestly I’m just mad I didn’t get to go on this date. Sounds like my soulmate. I love being talked over and subtly evaluated like cattle at the county fair. Did he offer you a coupon for vasectomy reversal or did that come after dessert?

Nancy snorted. Her cheeks hurt from the scowl she’d been wearing for the past two hours, but Mark’s sarcasm always sliced right through the noise.

Nancy: I swear to God he said I was being dramatic when I got up to leave.
Also? Nellie still thinks I “just need to give it time” to want kids.
Mark. I’m gonna snap.

Mark: Ah yes, the classic “Uterus Sleeper Agent” theory. One day you’ll just wake up, see a Lego on the floor, and burst into fertile tears. Until then, let’s keep shoving you into dinner interviews with emotionally unavailable dads from the local YMCA.

Mark: New plan: Next time Nellie wants to set you up, you redirect her toward your new matchmaker. Me. I’m unlicensed, emotionally unstable, and deeply petty. But I do know your type. And I’m pretty sure it’s not “Daddy Dearest and the Cabernet Cult.”

Nancy laughed out loud — actual, real laughter that cracked the crust of her bad night and let in just enough air to breathe.

Nancy: You’re hired. I want someone who sees me, not someone who sees casserole-bearing stepmom in a 1950s ad. Also I’m eating cookies for dinner. Fight me.

Mark: I’d never. But only because I know you’d win. Bonus: Cookies are more emotionally available than Aaron. My first act as your new love ambassador…text Ethan back.

Nancy: You got it boss. That’s all I’ve wanted to do all day.

Mark: Get on it!

Nancy curled up on the couch, phone on her chest, warmth finally returning to her limbs. She didn’t have answers, or a solid love life, or decent hair at this point. But she had Mark. And cookies. And maybe, just maybe, the sense that she wasn’t as lost as Nellie wanted her to feel.