CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CLARA
When Nash Nightingale showed up on my missed calls list, I knew I was in trouble.
All my anger with him evaporated as soon as I listened to his voicemails. And I hated that they could bring a smile to my face. Hated that I moved so quickly from pissed to planning for reconciliation.
No, I did not want to reconcile with this man.
Even though I desperately wanted every inch of him, every hour of every day.
So when the unexpected knock at my door came the next evening, just after I’d gotten Mia down for her post-daycare nap, I knew who it was.
And even though I’d told myself it would be better to stay away, leave the door shut, act like I wasn’t home, I couldn’t stop myself from opening the door.
Nash stood in front of me for the first time in almost a month.
Tall, powerful, filling my doorway with a look on his face that I’d never seen before.
Anguish, tenderness, and hope all warred for space in his features.
Though he looked put together, I saw the small details that betrayed his state of mind.
The loosened tie. The faint circles under his eyes.
"Clara."
Just the way he breathed my name made my knees weak. Not a good sign for staying strong.
"What are you doing here?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
"I need to talk to you."
I wanted to send him away. To be strong and independent. But I couldn’t, not when the mere sight of him satisfied something so deep inside me I didn’t even know where to begin understanding it. But I needed boundaries. I straightened my back, crossing my arms.
I’d look at him, but I wouldn’t let him in.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No.”
His gaze dropped, his jaw tightening. "Is Mia here?"
"She's napping."
He nodded, his electric gaze sweeping back up to my face. For a moment, we stared at each other. So much emotion passing between us without a single word.
"Clara, I'm so sorry."
I steeled myself, not daring to break his gaze.
"I fucked up. Majorly. I was scared and hurt, and I pushed you away because that's what I do. But you—" His voice cracked. "You never gave up on me. You fought for me even after I walked away from you."
My throat tightened and I tried not to betray the emotion in my voice. "That community deserves help. I believe in your project." I cleared my throat, daring myself to finish the thought. “It wasn’t about you.”
"Whatever the reason, it shows that you're a better person than I am.”
The words hung between us. I wasn’t sure I agreed with him.
"I love you, Clara." His eyes glistened. "I fell in love with you the night we met four years ago. But I couldn’t handle the lie. And then when I found you again in April, I knew it had to be you, because you were the only one I’ve ever felt like that with."
"And now?" My voice was barely a whisper. "What's changed? What happens the next time things get hard? Because they will, Nash. Shit will get hard again. Life doesn't just smooth out because you apologize."
"I know."
"So what's stopping you from running again? From icing me out the second I make a decision you don't like?"
"Nothing." The honesty of it gutted me. "Nothing except me making a different choice. Me choosing to stay. Me choosing to trust that…we can do this. Together."
They were pretty words. But I was suddenly so exhausted by this, I could hardly keep standing. I wanted to collapse into a pile and cry for an hour straight. And Mia was due to wake up any second. I didn’t want her to see Nash—her Naff. It would turn into a frenzy.
"You need to go. Mia’s about to wake up, and I'm not going to let her get hurt again," I said, my voice hardening. "She asks about you every single day. She draws pictures of us constantly. She loves you, Nash. And honestly, I don’t even want to look at you if there’s even a fraction of a chance that anything like this would happen again. "
"There’s no chance.” He took another step closer. "I’ll never walk away from what we built together. Not this time. Not ever."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to so badly.
But I was terrified.
"You need to go," I whispered. "I need to think about this."
The hope in his eyes dimmed slightly, but he nodded. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."
He looked at me with so much longing in his face, I wasn’t sure if he was going to try touching me, a hug or kiss. But he ripped himself away, and then it was just me in the doorway.
Tears streaming down my face, my heart breaking and healing all at once.
Nash wasted no time in resuming life as it had been before.
The morning check-in texts began to arrive. Little notes to say he missed me. A quick picture of the plants I’d left behind in the custom greenhouse to show me the growth on a leaf.
I didn’t answer at first. I just let the messages sink in. But one thing was clear.
He was here. He was waiting. And he’d never left.
He’d just checked out.
NASH: I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I pray every day that you’ll give me one.
NASH: Also I started therapy.
NASH: Archer said it was about fucking time.
Tears came to my eyes at the same time a laugh popped out. Holy shit.
NASH: Honestly that asshole needs therapy too. He’s still hung up on his ex from high school.
CLARA: Maybe you Nightingale men just have a thing for women who rocked your world years ago.
A shiver of excitement coursed through me as soon as I hit Send on that message. I hadn’t meant to engage. But I couldn’t resist.
NASH: I only have a thing for honey-blonde babes with a green thumb and glorious curves.
NASH: Also mark today’s date down as the best day of my life. You wrote back.
NASH: I love you. I miss you. Please can I see you?
While it felt so good to be talking to him, I couldn’t open up fully. I let his message sit for hours before I wrote my response. I dove straight in to asking what I’d been too afraid to ask the other day when he showed up.
CLARA: Do you really love me? Or was it just comfortable for you?
His response came immediately.
NASH: I love YOU. Your strength, your kindness, your limitless grace. That booty, too. <3 Nothing about being in love is comfortable for me. It scares me.
NASH: But that’s only because it’s pushing me into a new chapter.
NASH: I love the way you see the world. I love the way you raise your daughter. The way you make me want to be better. I love that you fight for what matters. I love your heart, your head, your nose, your toes, your everything.
NASH: I'm so fucking sorry it took me this long to say it.
I sat on my couch, reading and rereading his words, my heart so full it felt like it had burst out of my body. Tears streamed down my face as I smiled and smiled. I was ready to see.
See how things felt. See what came next.
See if our love story would find its end or start another volume.
CLARA: Meet me at Black & Brewtiful tomorrow.
I arrived extra early to the coffee shop where I’d signed my heart over to Nash in April.
Everything looked different, even though nothing inside had changed.
Maybe it was because it was high summer and tourists clustered inside for a respite from the balmy air.
Or maybe it was because I was a different woman now.
I wasn’t scraping by on catering gigs. I was weeks away from starting my grad program.
My portfolio hadn’t just been accepted, it had received early praise from my professors.
I had full custody of Mia. I was financially secure and working toward a future that promised to give me everything I’d ever wanted out of life.
After ordering my usual iced coffee, I sat at a table near the window so I could keep an eye out for Nash. I tried to take in my surroundings, to focus on the families enjoying their drinks, the tourists pointing out the window, but my gaze kept sliding back to the door.
Waiting for Nash. My man.
Mine.
Excitement fluttered through me, and I tried to tamp it down. I needed to see him, talk to him, take the pulse of our potential partnership. But then the door opened, and goosebumps flared on my forearms. Nash walked in.
His blue eyes found me immediately, and the entire world faded away.
He wore a short sleeve polo shirt tucked into navy slacks with a tan belt.
With all his tattoos exposed, he looked like the most decadent businessman.
His dark hair was slicked back, his entire attention focused on me as he crossed the distance between us in three steps.
And then his arms were around me, squeezing me into the most loving, intense hug I’d ever felt. I melted into his embrace, tears immediately coming to my eyes.
Fuck, I’d missed him. More than I’d even let myself realize.
When he pulled back, I noticed the bouquet of flowers in his hand. Wrapped in paper, I spotted the soft peach rhododendrons first thing, then the apricot petals of the barely-opening peonies. My mouth parted as I looked closer.
“Nash, are these—is this for me?”
That genuine, mischievous smile curled at his lips. The kind that told me I was about to hear a gem.
“No, silly. They’re for the barista.”
I laughed, swatting at his chest. He slid a hand over the dip in my waist, keeping me close. The boyish smile on his face was real, raw, the type that didn’t come out for just anyone. The kind I considered myself lucky to know.
“Are these our rhododendrons?” I asked softly, grazing my fingertips across the delicate blossoms.
“Yes. I haven’t killed anything since you’ve been gone,” he said in a low voice, brushing his lips across my forehead. “I hired someone to keep them alive while I went into my depressive spiral.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you considering the circumstances,” I whispered, looking up into his blue eyes.
“I didn’t want to disappoint you when it came to our flowers,” he said, squeezing a path up my arms. “Even though I disappointed you so very badly in all other arenas.”