Chapter 31
NASH
“I asked your dad where the best place to eat in town was, and he said Antoni’s Cucina,” I say as we walk down the sidewalk to the restaurant.
“You asked my dad, and he actually gave you a recommendation?”
“Shocking, huh?” I hold the door open for her, feeling the warmth from inside crash over us. “Your dad and I are becoming fast friends, connecting over our healthcare businesses and our shared love of you.”
Sadie’s lips purse as she thinks over what I just said.
“May I help you?” the host asks.
“Yes, I have a special reservation under Nash Carter.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Carter, we have everything set for you on the patio.”
“The patio? Won’t it be freezing out there?”
“Let’s just see how it goes.”
Sadie walks ahead of me, and this time, when I put my hand on the small of her back to escort her, she doesn’t flinch.
The host leads us out back, where a private table is set up in front of a stone fireplace with a raging fire inside. Blankets are draped over the backs of our chairs, and freestanding patio heaters are pulled over beside our table.
Sadie smiles as she looks around at the string lights and romantic candlelit dinner. I knew she’d like this.
She loves extra effort and romantic settings that feel private and unique. This was the best I could do in Skaneateles, but it turned out better than expected.
The host helps us into our seats, dropping the blankets over our legs like he would with the napkins, and then hands us the menu before leaving.
“Wow,” Sadie gushes. “This is pretty cute.”
“I’m pretty good at this.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” She smiles, and there’s a spark of the old Sadie underneath it all. “So what did we do on our actual first date?”
“It was Christmastime three years ago, so we went ice skating at Maggie Daley Park Skating Ribbon. Instead of a rink, it winds around like a ribbon. Then we got some hot cocoa and made out in front of the Chicago Christmas tree.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“We did.” I can’t help my satisfied smile. “I think someone even yelled at us to get a room.”
An embarrassed laugh puffs out. “Okay, what about after that?”
“We went back to my place, and that’s when things really heated up.”
She holds up her hand, stopping me. “I get the picture. You don’t need to say what else we did.”
“We roasted s’mores on my balcony,” I say with a growing smile. “Good grief, it was a first date. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Her eyes roll as she laughs. “So if our first date was the beginning of Christmas and we’ve been married almost three years, when did we get engaged?”
“Got engaged on Christmas Eve and married almost one month later.”
“Why so fast? That’s a crazy timeline.”
“We were madly in love, so why wait?”
“Uh…”—her eyes go big—“to get to know each other better, to make sure it’s right.”
“We’d been getting to know each other at work for six months.”
“Yeah, but there are more reasons than that to take things slow and plan it out.”
“You were sick of all the life plans. That was one of the things you liked about me—the unexpected excitement of not knowing what life will bring, just enjoying the adventure as it goes along.” She says nothing as my words sink into her heart and mind. “We both knew it was fast, but we didn’t care if it made us seem insane. We knew what we had was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, unmatched by anything else.”
I want to tell her it could be that way again and that it still is that way for me, but I don’t. Those are things that Sadie needs to discover on her own.
“Besides, I knew you were the one the second I saw you.”
“So you’re claiming love at first sight?” Skepticism coats her words.
My head tilts, and I smile. “At first sight and every moment after.”
SADIE
After dinner, Nash and I walk down the Skaneateles pier to the end, where the village Christmas tree is lit. Its magical lights cast a glow across the lake like a lighthouse.
He leans his head back so he can see the star on top. “And now, for the rest of my life, nothing short of a Christmas tree next to a lake will do.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” My teeth chatter as I try to get the words out.
“Are you warm enough?” His hands glide up and down the sides of my arms, creating a friction of heat.
“It’s a little cold.”
“I could help with that if you want.” His eyes twinkle like the lights on the tree.
“Was this your plan all along? Keep me outside all night until I get cold enough to beg you to warm me up?”
“I mean, it’s not a bad idea.” His hands stop their frantic movement against my arms, and the mood shifts.
Nash steps a little closer, and the glimmer in his eyes turns into something warm and loving. He wraps his arms around my body, pulling my chest against his. Instantly, heat rushes through me. I don’t know if it’s real or from a flicker of desire, but I like it.
“You look beautiful tonight.” His gaze skitters around my face. “Did I tell you that yet?”
“Only about four times.”
Slowly, he leans forward, and my breath catches the moment his warm lips press against the scar on my head. They linger over the jaggedness like a reverent tribute to my recovery. As he pulls back, his fingers brush my cheek lovingly.
“Your hand is cold.” I lean away from his body, opening up my jacket, inviting his arms into my warmth.
A subtle smile tugs the corner of his mouth upward at my invitation. He readjusts his arms, slowly sliding his frozen fingers around my stomach and waist. The sheer fabric of Annie’s shirt is a blessing and a curse. I feel his hands on me as if I were wearing nothing.
“Can I hug you?” There’s something really sweet and innocent about his question that moves my heart.
I nod, and suddenly, I’m encircled by Nash’s body. His face buries into my neck and hair. Hot breath spills over my ear as he sighs in contentment. My eyes close, and I melt into him. In return, he squeezes me tighter, like I’m the only thing in his life he holds dear.
We stay in that all-encompassing hug for a long time, both taking something we need from the other. For me, it’s the safety and comfort amidst so much uncertainty. And for him, it’s me. Just me.
His arms loosen, letting me know he’s pulling back. “I better get you home. I’m sure you’re tired.”
His hands glide over my waist again on his way out from underneath my coat. I don’t know if it’s the curiosity about whether or not we have chemistry, the genuine care and concern Nash has for me, or even the fact that Stetson has a girlfriend, but I grab his wrists, stopping him.
“That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were going to seize your masculine moment, dip me back, and kiss the crap out of me.”
He stares at me, debating like only a gentleman would.
Both hands cup my face in preparation, and my heart buzzes with apprehension. Softly, Nash caresses my cheeks, still gazing longingly into my eyes. “Your last first kiss?”
My heart pounds, bringing anxiety with it.
I only remember kissing Stetson. Would this really be my last first kiss?
The softness behind Nash’s gaze eases my concerns, and somewhere deep inside, I feel secure giving him this intimate piece of me.
Anticipation builds and builds, and just when I feel like I’ll snap in half, his hands wrap around me, tilting me to the side. It’s a dip like he promised, but not in the traditional way. His arms cradle me against him as our bodies slant to the side together. My hand goes to his neck, and the other holds his back. His movements are deliberate, as if he knows this situation requires patience and time. The tender smile covering his lips is the last thing I see before his mouth presses to mine. I close my eyes, giving myself to his kiss.
It’s a gentleman’s kiss—soft and slow—a token of something real, pure, and ideal. I feel the warmth of his love and affection from my toes all the way up to my treacherous, forgetful mind.
His arms pull me in tighter and tighter like a treasure he never wants to lose. The way he holds me says so much about how he values me. It’s achingly beautiful—something every woman should experience in their lifetime. I’d consider giving up another three and a half years of my life just to be kissed like this again.
Nash brings me up straight again, tugging and brushing his lips over mine a few more times before he pulls back.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers between us.
His words pierce and squeeze my heart in ways I can’t understand. I don’t return the sentiment, because I can’t. I’m still just trying to figure it all out.
But there’s one thing I do know: Nash Carter has set the standard high.