No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 603

Eleanor’s car pulled away first, leaving Ian waiting to make a left turn. He watched her taillights disappear, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Later, Eleanor met Joy at a cozy downtown café. They caught up on life, and soon the conversation turned to Eleanor’s recent accident. Joy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait—someone almost hit you with their car?”

“Xavier shoved me out of the way,” Eleanor said quietly. “He took the hit instead. I’ve spent all week taking care of him.”

“Is he badly hurt?” Joy asked, concern written all over her face.

“He fractured his arm. He’s home now, just needs time to recover.”

Joy shook her head, half in disbelief. “So now you owe Xavier a huge favor. Actually, that makes two, doesn’t it? How are you ever going to repay him?” She grinned, a teasing glint in her eye. “What’s next, pay him back like they did in the old days? ‘You saved my life, now I’ll marry you’?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Eleanor stirred her coffee, her expression turning serious. “Xavier’s a very important friend, but that’s all.”

Joy propped her chin on her hand, eyeing Eleanor with a knowing look. “Maybe that’s how you feel, but it’s obvious Xavier sees you as more than just a friend.”

“All I feel is gratitude and friendship,” Eleanor replied, though a tangle of emotions tightened her chest. Navigating feelings was never her strong suit.

“So how are you planning to thank him? You can’t just let things stay so vague forever.”

Eleanor thought for a moment. “I’ve already made up my mind. When he’s fully recovered, I’ll thank him properly—then I’ll keep my distance.”

Joy arched an eyebrow. “But Xavier’s such a catch. He’s kind, thoughtful—”

“Joy.” Eleanor cut her off, her tone earnest. “I don’t want to use feelings to pay back a favor. That wouldn’t be fair to Xavier.”

Joy let out a long sigh. “Alright, I get it.” She knew Eleanor’s failed marriage had left her wary, and even the gentlest man probably couldn’t win her heart now.

Still, a thought nagged at her. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Hey, does Ian know you’ve been looking after Xavier all week? Didn’t he have a meltdown?”

Eleanor shot back, “What does my life have to do with him?”

“But does he know?” Joy pressed.

“He came by to see Xavier,” Eleanor replied, lifting her coffee for a sip.

Joy blinked in surprise. Ian’s indifference said it all—he really didn’t care about Eleanor, not from the start. What ex-husband could watch his former wife nurse another man back to health and not bat an eye? Only someone who never loved her, that’s who.

Joy felt a pang of regret for Eleanor. Six years wasted on a man who never truly cared. If she’d met Xavier first, maybe things would have turned out differently. But there are no what-ifs in life, and it was time for her friend to look forward.

They chatted a while longer before heading out for lunch. In the afternoon, Eleanor went home to rest. Ian had arranged to pick up their daughter today, and Eleanor didn’t object—she had no right to interfere with his visitation.

Eleanor set aside the notebook and stroked Princess’s head. The older the dog got, the more intuitive she seemed—smart as a seven- or eight-year-old child, according to the vet.

Eleanor put the notebook away and headed downstairs for a glass of water.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Joslyn, her housekeeper, had taken the night off to visit her own daughter, so Eleanor was home alone. She grabbed an umbrella and stepped outside to check the camera. On the screen, she saw Ian holding Evelyn.

She opened the door. Ian stood there in a black turtleneck, the rain plastering his hair to his head. His coat was draped over Evelyn, who peeked out with a bright smile. “Mommy, look at me!”

Eleanor handed her the umbrella. “Come on inside, sweetheart.”

“Mom, can Dad come in too? He doesn’t have an umbrella, and it’s pouring out here.”

“I can lend him one,” Eleanor replied coolly.

But Evelyn wouldn’t let go. “No, I want Daddy to stay with me for a little while.”

Ian looked at Eleanor, rain streaming down his face. Yet under his coat, Evelyn was warm and dry, a little bird safe in her nest.