Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NAT
“You can’t avoid it forever, you know,” Asher said as we pulled up in front of the antique store in Parkersville, shooting me a sidelong glance.
I unbuckled my seat belt and turned to face him, tuning out June’s near constant rendition of the baby shark song—the same rendition she’d been singing the entire car ride. I was ready to cut off my ears.
“I assure you I can avoid anything for any length of time, but I’m not quite sure what it is exactly you’re referrin’ to now.”
He shut off the engine and rested his arm on the center console, leaning closer to me. The move made his scent wash over me, and I had to bite back the urge to inhale deeply.
Used to be, I’d avoid doing that so as not to be accosted by his and Nash’s teenage-boy stink. Now, though, it had more to do with how I’d react to his most assuredly non-teenage-boy scent—the one that seemed to cling to me, even hours after I’d gotten out of the bed we shared. Platonically, of course.
“I mean Havenbrook,” he said. “You haven’t been out once. You’ve even skipped weekly lunch dates with your sisters, momma, and gran. Aren’t you gettin’ a little claustrophobic by now? Havenbrook’s small enough, but it’s not as small as Aubrey’s house.”
“I’ve been out plenty.”
“Your parents’ or any of your sisters’ houses don’t count.”
“I’m tellin’ them you said that,” I said, stepping out of the car before he could respond. I shut the door on his laughter, and my lips twitched at the sound, though I tamped down my reaction.
Truthfully, I’d been tamping down a hell of a lot of my reactions lately when it came to him.
I opened up June’s door and helped her get unbuckled from her car seat and climb down. “C’mon, Junie B. Uncle Asher’s got your brother.”
“How come you call me that?” June asked, her head tilted to the side.
“What? Junie B?”
“Yeah. Is it for Junebug, like Uncle Asher calls me?”
I ruffled her hair. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Pickin’ up that bug starts with B. But no. It was my favorite book series when I was little. Junie B. Jones. Have you heard of it?”
June’s eyes lit up as she stared at me. “Oh yeah! Momma got me one of those. Can we read it?”
I glanced over at Asher, whose face had gone tight with sadness, and I swallowed down my own. I had absolutely no experience with kids, which meant I had even less experience with kids dealing with grief. But even with my complete lack thereof, I knew enough that I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
June had taken her parents’ deaths surprisingly well. Though I assumed that was because the little girl didn’t quite understand the permanence of it all. Owen most certainly didn’t. But every day at each mention of Aubrey or Nathan, I waited for it to finally sink in for June. Truthfully, I had no idea how we’d manage that when the time came.
I cleared my throat and nodded, squeezing her hand. “Sure, we can. We’ll start tonight. As long as you don’t plan on pukin’ up your entire weight in cupcakes again.”
She grinned widely and bounced at my side, tugging on my arm as she did so. “Can we get some? Can we ?”
Asher, carrying a sleepy Owen, strolled up to the two of us, shaking his head as he reached for the door and held it open for us to walk in ahead. “Junebug, you’re the only human I know who gets sick off a food and still wants it.” He leaned forward as I passed, his breath a whisper against my ear. “And you’re in the doghouse for even mentionin’ them.”
I locked down my muscles in an effort to keep my shiver under wraps. Because I didn’t do things like shivering all thanks to my best friend whispering some nonsense in my ear. In fact, it was rare I did shivers, even while I was naked and my bed partner for the evening was working diligently to elicit them.
But I wasn’t going to think about things like that now. Not while we were pretending to be a happy—and in love—couple. Not while we were ring shopping for our upcoming wedding. And not while?—
I screeched to a halt, Asher plowing into my back and setting a hand on my hip to steady himself.
“Whoa, sorry,” he murmured, then glanced down at me, one eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”
“I don’t think we thought this through.” I gestured to the incredibly crowded and most definitely not childproof store.
The space was small and cramped, every square inch covered with… stuff, save for a tiny walkway. And even then, objects sometimes spilled over into it. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t a rhyme or reason as to how it was set up. It wasn’t separated by item or even era, just a haphazard sprawl that would, no doubt, be a chaotic four-year-old’s dream.
“Shit,” he said under his breath, clearly coming to the same conclusion I had. Namely, there was a whole lot of stuff to break in here. “I don’t know why you wanted to come here for a ring anyway. There’s an actual jewelry store right down the street. You wanna go there instead?”
No, I absolutely did not want to go to a traditional jewelry store. I had no plans to be a traditional bride. Even if this wedding were real, I still wouldn’t be one.
So, I tightened my resolve, along with my hold on June’s hand, and marched us toward the jewelry case in the center of the crowded space.
“No touchin’, Junie B,” I said, glancing down at her. “I’m serious. If you break something, I’ll probably have to sell your uncle Asher to pay for it.”
June’s eyes went wide, and Asher laughed, reaching out a hand and palming her head. “She’s just jokin’, Junebug. We’d sell her if anything like that happened.”
Without looking, I reached behind me and swatted him, my hand connecting with the warm solidness of his stomach.
He grunted in surprise, then stepped up next to me, slid the arm that wasn’t holding Owen around my waist, and lowered his lips to my ear. “I don’t know why you’re hittin’ me when you’re the one who started it,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Well, aren’t y’all just the most adorable family I’ve ever seen!” A woman in her late fifties with clumps of eyelashes as fake as her nails—which looked like they could kill a man—stood behind a cashier counter adjacent to the jewelry case. She beamed an overly white smile at us, her bottle-blond hair curled in perfect waves.
“Oh, we’re not—” My words got stuck in my throat as Asher squeezed my hip, and I clamped my mouth shut, because…yeah. We were supposed to be this family. We would be this family, even if just for a little while until everything got sorted.
It had been easy when we’d been locked in the four walls at home, but now that we were out in the world, I’d nearly forgotten I had to pretend to be a happily shackled woman.
Suffocation crept up my throat, but I tamped it down, beating it back into submission with the mantra I kept telling myself over and over again. This wasn’t real. Asher wasn’t going to be my actual husband. Our marriage was only a sham. We were just playing house.
Almost as if he could read my mind, could see the freak-out happening beneath my surface, he squeezed my hip twice and then spoke for us. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Hmm… You look so familiar,” she said, narrowing her eyes and tapping a finger against her chin as if that would help shake some recognition loose in her brain. “I’m Claudette Aikens. Have we met before?”
Asher shook his head. “’Fraid not.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. I’d been out with him enough that I was used to this—in the southeast portion of the US, anyway. And especially this close to Havenbrook—everyone within a hundred-mile radius felt like they had a claim to Asher…like being from the same area as him somehow made fame rub off on them. He may not have hit it big yet, but he was a well-known name in this corner of the country, having been on tour as the guitar player for Wade Grant and then his viral video from The Bluebird.
Now, though, he didn’t look like mysterious Asher McCoy, country music’s newest rebel, dead set on breaking all the rules and having fun while he was at it.
Instead, he stood with me tucked into his side as Owen slept, his head resting on Asher’s shoulder, all while June ran tight circles around our legs. It certainly was a far cry from late-night gigs and playing huge stadiums.
As I stared over at him, with his nephew safe and secure in his arms—not to mention me safe and secure nestled into his side—it felt like someone had popped a bottle of champagne in my stomach, my insides all bubbly and warm.
And I had no idea what to do with that feeling…especially in regard to my best friend.
Thankfully, I was a master avoider and could find any avoidance tactic within a five-mile radius. And right now, that meant throwing him under the bus just to give my mind something else to focus on.
“That’s Asher McCoy,” I said, tipping my head toward him. “Maybe you’ve heard of him—he’s kind of a big deal.”
“Nat,” he hissed under his breath.
I ignored him. “He toured with Wade Grant last summer, and then his video of ‘Take Me Home’ kind of blew up.”
The older woman clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s it! My goodness, how excitin’ to have you here! My, my, I need—” She fluttered her hands in front of her as she glanced around before plucking a flower-topped pen from the pot filled with rocks, then pressed a button on the cash register so it spat out receipt paper. “Would you mind signin’ this for me? My daughter’ll just die when she hears I met you.”
Asher’s cheeks pinked, and I bit back a smile—one that only grew when he pinched my side in retaliation. “Sure, of course.” He shifted Owen’s sleeping form to his other arm and grabbed the pen, scribbling his autograph on the paper.
“Thank you so much. What a treat!” Claudette held the signed paper out in front of her as if it were a buried treasure. “Well, now. What can I help y’all with?”
“We just wanna take a peek at your jewelry.” I gestured to the case we’d been heading for.
“Of course.” She nodded and stepped around the counter, grabbing a set of keys as she went. “Anything in particular y’all’re lookin’ for? I might be able to point you in the right direction. I’m here most days, so I know the inventory.”
I glanced over at Asher, and our gazes locked, an unspoken acknowledgment transferring between us—this was the first time we’d be saying these words aloud to a stranger.
“An engagement ring,” he said, his eyes still locked on mine. “We’re gettin’ married.”
And for no good goddamn reason, my stomach flipped.
“Oh my! How wonderful !” Claudette beamed and bent down to June. “Are you gonna be the flower girl at your momma and daddy’s wedding?”
June shook her head, barely sparing the woman a glance. “They’re not my momma and daddy.”
Claudette glanced up, her brows pinched. “They’re?—”
“I’m her uncle,” Asher corrected with a tight smile.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand and interlaced our fingers, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just to let him know I was here. That he wasn’t going through this alone.
“Of course,” Claudette said, her smile back in full force. “Well, I’m not sure if we’d have anything flashy enough for what y’all’re probably lookin’ for?—”
“Oh, we’re not lookin’ for anything like that.” I reached for June on her next trip around us and pulled her to a stop at my side.
“No? You have something specific in mind?”
“Not really. Just figure I’ll know it when I see it.” I squatted to be eye level with June. “Wanna help me look for a ring in all the pretty jewelry?”
“Can I get something too?” she asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
I smiled at her before glancing up toward Asher. To June, I said, “You’ll have to sweet-talk your uncle, but it’s probably not out of the realm of possibility.”
He just rolled his eyes and tugged on my hand still encased in his, yanking me upright. “Let’s see if Nat can find something first.”
“We get a lot of costume jewelry in here.” Claudette stepped behind the jewelry counter, keys jangling as she unlocked the case. “I don’t much guess you’d be interested in those. Oh! We did have…” She scanned the case, gasping when her eyes landed on something. “Ah, yes, here it is. Just came in last week from an estate.”
She pulled the ring from the velvet encasement and held it toward me. It wasn’t a typical engagement ring—no diamonds to be found anywhere. It was simple but not dainty. Stylish but not flashy.
“I believe it’s an aquamarine,” Claudette said.
My birthstone. The emerald cut pale-blue stone sat atop a silver band with filigree swirls framing the center piece and trailing down each side. I hadn’t thought much about what it’d feel like to find the perfect ring. Hadn’t thought about it at all, ever, actually.
I didn’t know my breath would catch or that goose bumps would erupt over my skin. I didn’t know I’d have this bone-deep certainty that it was the one, yet I couldn’t deny all those things were true.
Before I could open my mouth to respond, to ask to try it on or to see what Asher thought, to check the price and make sure it wasn’t outrageous, he cleared his throat. I peeled my attention away from the ring and to him, our eyes connecting immediately.
Without breaking my gaze, he said, “We’ll take it.”