Chapter Six #2
“There goes the vibe,” he says. “It’s time for you to leave. Any media comes to town, and I start giving interviews neither you nor the record company are going to appreciate.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Grandma sets her empty coffee cup on the small table between us. “You should start work on your memoir.”
“We’d kill any such effort to sully the company’s reputation with ease,” says Carrie.
“Our lawyers would probably be fighting it out for years,” agrees Nash. “Though I can’t think of a better way to spend the money.”
“Aaron, be reasonable!”
“This is about as reasonable as I get.” He scratches his stubble. “You should go. I can’t have you upsetting June in her delicate condition. It isn’t good for her or the twins.”
Carrie’s mouth falls open in much the same manner as a snake unhinging its jaw to devour prey.
“You heard him,” says Grandma. “Get off my property before your presence salts the ground or summons demons or something.”
“That’s honestly sort of mean to demons,” I mumble.
The woman stomps her ass back to her sports car in her high heels. And he watches her go with a frown.
“Are you alright?” asks Grandma.
Nash gives her an easy smile. “She was bound to turn up sooner or later. Thank you for defending me, Audrey. And for the fake pregnancy, June.”
“I know it’s petty and wrong to enjoy aggravating someone,” says Grandma. “But when it comes to her, I just can’t help myself. Do you think we’ll be seeing the media?”
“I don’t know.”
And now none of us are smiling.
“This is impossible,” says a deep familiar voice. “Just impossible.”
I follow it down the hallway to find Nash standing in the laundry surrounded by piles of clothes. And the expression on his handsome face is pure frustration.
“What’s wrong?”
“Audrey told me to sort the dirty laundry,” he says, in a tone suggesting he’s experiencing some sort of existential crisis. “Because obviously we wash them in groupings.”
“Right.”
“My first thought was function.” Hands on hips, he shakes his head.
“Sleepwear, sportswear, intimate apparel, the things we wear during the day, and the nicer stuff we have on when we go to the bar. Then I wondered if she also meant type of material. Cotton, bamboo, silk, polyester and so on. But that made so many smaller piles within the larger piles. It got out of hand really quickly.”
“I can see that.”
“Back when I was young we’d just shove everything into a machine at the laundromat and hope for the best. This is much more intense.”
“Usually, you just sort them into light and dark colors.”
“Light and dark? That’s it?” he asks. “For fuck’s sake.”
I smile.
“Let’s move on,” he says, coming toward me with arms open wide. Then his strong arms wrap around me, and my face is mooshed against his hard chest. The man is holding me, and also, he smells ridiculously good. Salt and sage and something that’s just him. “There we go.”
“Nash, what are we doing?”
“I was thinking about you not being touchy-feely because you weren’t hugged enough.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay.”
His hold on me tightens. “Don’t fight it, June. I’m doing this for your own good.”
“What would Grandma say?”
“Hush now.”
I don’t mean to keep sniffing him, however, it’s kind of hard not to. He’s big and warm and solid in comparison to my softer self. And I like being this close to him more than is safe. “Are we done?”
“Not just yet,” he says, resting his cheek on top of my head. “I need you to fully commit and put your arms around me.”
I do as asked.
“Thank you,” he says. “You finished for the day?”
“Yeah.”
“What were you working on?”
“Some website updates for a small crafting business.”
“Nice,” he says.
“I like helping creatives earn a living.”
“It can certainly be hard to do these days, what with corporations and piracy.”
“Are we done now?” I ask. “It sort of feels like we should be.”
“No. You need to trust me. I am, after all, a medical practitioner.”
I laugh. “No, you’re not.”
“Just be in the moment with me, June.” He runs his hand over my back like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal or something. Though his fingers pause and stray along the edge of the back of my bra. Just testing the strap or something.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
“Nothing. Sorry. Got distracted.” His hand moves on to rest against my lower back. “Can I say, you have the most perfect curve right here. It’s right above your ass, which is also kind of great if I’m being honest. How do you achieve such perfection?”
“By eating cake.”
“Huh,” he says. “Have I turned the hug horny and made it awkward? I honestly didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay.” The truth is, I like it a little too much. “We’re fine.”
“Carrie can be tenacious,” he says out of nowhere. “I don’t think she’s going to give up.”
“Winning you back for herself or for the record company?”
“Both. Normally she gets sick of her toys and discards them. They don’t refuse to play with her.”
I hate this news on numerous levels. Though stuffing any emotions regarding him down deep into the recesses of my soul seems to be working out great for me so far.
Best to just focus on this hugging thing.
I tighten my hold around his middle and press my cheek against his pec.
“Doesn’t seem to be any new information about you on the internet after her visit. ”
He tenses. “Okay.”
“Would you rather not talk about it?”
“No,” he says. “I need to know what’s happening.”
“There was some speculation about where you might be. Apparently, you missed an important music industry awards ceremony yesterday.”
“I already have awards and they don’t even feed you at those things.”
“What about snacks?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re kidding me. What a waste of time.”
He sighs. “Exactly.”
When we’re quiet, I can hear his heart beating strong and steady beneath my ear.
And then there’s a new sound coming from inside him…
he’s humming. Some song that’s sweet and familiar and old.
I haven’t heard him sing, whistle, or hum in the time he’s been here.
Which is strange, given his apparent love of music.
Guess it’s another sign of the burnout. I could happily stand there listening for days.
“Is that ‘Crazy’ by Patsy Cline?” I ask softly. “I love that song.”
He grunts and steps back from me. “We’re done.”
“Oh.”
I have no idea what the look he gives me means. But then he turns his attention back to the piles of laundry on the ground. “I can do this. Audrey’s going to teach me to mop next. I’ve decided to see it as an adventure.”
“What a positive way to approach it.”
“This whole living consciously is kind of nice. Doing stuff for myself. Being more present. I know having the money to make these choices is a fortunate thing. To be able to take a break from hustling and rushing all the time.”
“What’s going on in here?” asks Grandma, appearing in the laundry doorway. She didn’t catch us cuddling, however, so Nash is safe from the stick for now.
“Shit. That reminds me,” he says with a grin. “Great news. I’ve bought the place next door.”
Grandma stares blankly at him. “You did what?”
“Sent an email to my lawyer asking her to make them an offer, and they said yes. We’re going to be neighbors. And my house is taller than yours, so I’ll be able to wave down at you when you’re on your deck!”
“No,” says Grandma, aghast.
“You don’t sunbathe naked or anything, do you, Audrey?” he asks with a grin. “Can’t wait to start inviting friends out here. Think I might start with some band members. What do you think?”
But Grandma has already turned away. “I need a drink.”