CHAPTER NINETEEN #2
“Fuck yes, Clara.” I looked down at her—her hair messy, mouth full of my cock, and eyes on me. She dug her nails into the backs of my thighs then, sending sparks skating beneath my skin. I groaned again, the pleasure coiling deep inside me until I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
I came in her mouth like she wanted. She took all of it, wiping at the corner of her mouth as she pulled back with a grin.
“The best vacation ever just got better,” she said with a wink.
I didn’t know things could feel so good.
Our days washed away out from under us, mimicking the rush and pull of the water at the base of the cliffs.
We fucked across every square inch of the house each night after Mia went to bed.
I don’t think I checked my phone at all during the first few days we were there, which meant I missed out on snapping plenty of pictures, but they were all etched into my heart.
We visited the state park, chased down a few tide pools, stopped by an aquarium so Mia could touch an eel.
Each day had a new itinerary, new delights, new flavors and sights.
But we couldn’t outrun the blowback for long.
By the middle of our trip, Archer called me while Clara and I were prepping for dinner during Mia’s nap.
“You’ve been extremely MIA,” Archer said in lieu of a greeting.
“It’s called a honeymoon,” I reminded him, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I chopped carrots. “I’m not supposed to be attached to my phone. Can’t a guy have a vacation?”
“I don’t like this marriage stuff anymore,” Archer said. “You weren’t supposed to be off doing fun things without me.”
I couldn’t fight the laughter. “Oh my God, you are such a whiny baby right now.”
“How would you like it if I got a wife and up and left you behind?”
I snorted. “I suggested you do that, actually. But you refused.”
Archer huffed.
“Are you jealous?” I wandered away from the kitchen, ignoring Clara’s curious glances. “You know, there’s still time for you to go find your own Mrs. Nightingale. I’ve heard Zoey’s got a thing for you.”
Clara gasped and shot to my side, looking up at me with wide eyes. She couldn’t hear Archer’s side, so she didn’t know how sarcastic I was being.
“Please. She’s sexy, but I’m not on the market.”
“But you’re single,” I reminded him.
“Listen, that’s not why I called,” Archer said brusquely. “I’m not trying to rain on your perfect honeymoon or anything, but you guys need to do something with this Haley Reeves situation.”
I’d specifically silenced all email and text threads from our reputation ambassador at work, so I had no idea what had transpired since we flew west. “How bad has it gotten?”
“It could be worse,” Archer started. “Nothing’s caught on fire yet and nobody died, buuut I’d say you two need to make a post or something already. This shit is circulating everywhere. It blew up. It’s on the fucking nightly news for God’s sake.”
I didn’t have words for that. I didn’t think that many people would care about the wedding, but maybe Haley had been the gasoline on top of the burning embers of public interest.
“All right. I’ll have a look tonight. Promise.”
“And…have fun. Just don’t forget about your dear old brother holding down the fort.”
I snorted. “You miss me, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Love you, Arch.”
When I swiped the call off, Clara was clawing at my shirt for answers. “Is he going to go on a date with Zoey?”
“No, he didn’t say anything like that. I think he’s a little jealous we’re having such a good time but not jealous enough to actually do something about it.”
She frowned, wandering back to the kitchen. “Well that’s a bummer.”
“Not all the Nightingale men are cut out for marriage, I guess. He wants us to do something about the Haley Reeves article. We need to post something. Our social media hiatus has come to an end.”
Clara’s smile slowly faded. “Crap. I’ve been enjoying our bubble.”
“Me too. But apparently we’ve gone viral while in the bubble. I say we make a quick post and be done with it.”
I tried to get back to dinner prep—fresh seafood from a market we'd stopped at, pasta, a simple salad—but Archer’s words kept ringing in my ears. I scrolled through social media—big mistake. The comments made white-hot rage simmer inside me.
“Everything okay?” Clara’s intuitive gaze was on me, and I knew she could already tell something had cracked open inside me.
I cleared my throat, tossing the phone on the counter. “Looks like your ex-manager Brenda is the one who blabbed.”
Clara’s mouth fell open. “That bitch.”
"This is how it works in my world," I said gently. "People see dollar signs. They'll say anything, true or not, if someone's willing to pay for it."
"How do you live like that?"
"You get used to it. You develop thick skin. And you focus on the people who matter."
She nodded slowly, stirring the noodles. "So let’s post something. Control the narrative, or whatever a publicist would say."
"A photo from the ceremony, and a caption about keeping it intimate, focusing on what matters."
Clara pulled out her phone, nodding. "Yes. Super simple. The simpler, the more real. At least in some corners of the internet.”
She handed me her phone, and I scrolled through the photos the photographer had sent us.
We’d hired a guy to stay in the shadows that day and expedite the photos in case we needed them for social media or the committee.
Of course, then we got to Big Sur and avoided real life entirely.
I found one of us just after the kiss, our foreheads pressed together, both of us smiling, with Mia visible in the background tossing flowers. It was candid and genuine. "This one."
"That's actually really beautiful," Clara said softly after I held it out for her to see.
I drafted the caption: When you know, you know. Keeping it intimate with the people who matter most. Mr. and Mrs. Nightingale. #cityhallwedding #family
I posted it to my account, then set my phone aside. “Can I be done with social media for today?’
“You have my permission to ignore your phone until we touch down in New York,” she said with a laugh.
A movement across the great room snagged my attention, and I saw Mia stumbling out of her bedroom, rubbing at her eyes. Mia flocked to her mother as she always did, and Clara hoisted the sweet girl into her arms.
“Did you have a good nap?” Clara asked, smoothing her hair. Mia was a creature of habit, and she always wanted a hug from mommy as soon as she woke up.
Mia nodded, her gaze sliding to me as she rested her head on Clara’s shoulder.
“Mommy and Nash have been getting dinner ready, are you hungry?” Clara went on.
Mia nodded, still looking at me. Clara kept murmuring to her, gently swaying while she continued stirring the noodles. After a while, Mia pointed to me.
“What’s that, baby?”
“Naff.”
“You want Nash?” Clara asked.
Mia nodded and reached for me. I was probably more shocked than Clara. I deftly received the little girl from Clara, hoisting her in my arms as Clara kept cooking. I held her wordlessly, feeling her small, light frame in my arms.
“This is an honor,” I said. “A post-nap hug. Thank you, Mia.”
“Naff is nice,” Mia said after a while, patting my arm.
Clara rolled her lips in, looking like she might cry. She fanned at her face. “Pasta is ready. But my ovaries might be exploding so I need to go take care of that.”
“Mmm. What’s the solution for that?” I cocked my head, more than curious for the answer.
“Nothing that I can talk about now.”
I really liked the sound of that. I gently rubbed Mia’s back as she came back to life. Finally, she perked her head up, eyes bright.
“I wanna color!” She wriggled out of my arms and scampered to the coloring books we’d left out at the breakfast nook.
“So let’s hear more about these ovaries exploding,” I murmured, sliding behind Clara as she tended the stove.
“Your forearms need a warning label.”
“I told you I’d get rid of them.” I placed small kisses at her temple and up to the top of her head. “I’ve received feedback that they’re far too manly and distracting.”
“Along with the rest of you!”
“Listen, I can’t get rid of the whole package. I need something to tempt you with,” I murmured into her ear with a laugh. She abandoned her post at the pot and turned to me, hooking her arms around my neck.
“Why does this feel so good, Nash?” she blurted, and then seemed to second-guess herself when her eyes went wide. “I didn’t—”
“I ask myself the same thing every day.” My gaze coasted over the pretty contours of her face, settling on the deep swirl of her hazel eyes. “Is it possible that we just…”
I was about to say are meant for each other, but Clara’s phone started ringing abruptly. A staccato ring I’d never heard before. Her brows furrowed as she reached for the offending phone.
“It’s Preston,” she said, “but he calls so infrequently I forgot I put that ringer with his name.”
“You should pick a different one that sounds more like ‘disappointing dead-beat’,” I suggested helpfully as she swiped the phone to answer.
“Hello?” she said hesitantly.
“Is it Daddy?” Mia asked, craning her neck from the nook.
“Put it on speakerphone,” I said quietly.
Clara nodded, putting it on speaker just as he began talking.
“Clara! Good of you to answer.” His smarmy, smooth-talking, HR voice immediately set me on edge. My fingers curled into fists. “Just wanted to say congratulations on your wedding.”
“Th-thank you.” Clara looked at me.
“Did you consider letting me know beforehand, or even afterward? I mean, you’ve blasted our daughter’s face across the entire internet. Would have been nice to be informed since this involved my daughter too. Or did you forget that she’s mine?”
Clara’s mouth parted. My heart was already thumping, and I was ready to reach through the phone and punch this guy in the jaw. Just for starters.
“You were informed the same way everyone else was,” Clara said, her voice thin. “Through social media.”