Chapter 26 #2
“Find lost gold and get divorced, actually.”
He chuckles and pulls a mug from a cabinet. “So impatient.”
I snort a slight laugh. “Well, having a mother who might forget my name next time I talk to her tends to light a fire under one’s ass.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but the way the fun leaves his face lets me know it’s not even remotely funny.
“You want to talk about it?”
In a mason jar of milk he must have steamed while I was in the bathroom, he adds vanilla and honey, then sticks a frother in it, the low hum filling the dead air I’ve created.
“A brain tumor,” I tell him. His look encourages me to go on, so I do. I tell him about the decade she’s kept it from us, the symptoms, and the surgery scheduled for ten weeks from now. I tell him about everything except the money we don’t have and the daughter that’s his.
Over the tea that’s been steeping, he adds the frothed milk and slides it across the counter to me.
I take a sip—it’s so damn good. Citrusy and sweet.
He learned to make it that summer—hours of us experimenting in that little apartment.
He’s clearly perfected it over the years he’s been having sex with condoms and sucking fingers like an Olympic sport.
“After I found out about the tumor, she told me about Cap—she’d never told anyone I wasn’t Ed’s—and that she never sent you the divorce papers.
Unloaded all the fun stuff at once.” I give him a rueful smile that he mirrors.
“That’s when I found out about the missing gold and Cap’s work to find it.
” I spin the mug on the counter then remember the rest. “And one of our customers got wind. Now here we are.”
“Now here we are.” He lifts his mug in the air as if toasting the unfortunate chain of events. “Why didn’t she tell Cap about you?”
“Guess he didn’t want to go back to Fontain when she did. She felt slighted. That someone would choose to be anywhere else other than with her. Didn’t tell him out of spite even though she loved him.”
No matter how I spin it, no matter the differences in reasoning, it’s my own life story retold.
He takes a sip of his coffee, almost smiling. “And the divorce papers?”
“Those,” I say, staring into my drink, “she withheld because she thought I loved you too much to divorce you and I’d eventually see it.
” My attention goes from my drink to watching Frank run around the yard through the window to the full-blown civil war my fucked-up conscience is waging against itself.
“Hid the postcards because she knew she’d have to tell me about the divorce if she didn’t. ”
“Clearly didn’t work if you’re marrying someone else.”
My eyes are back on him, ironic smile lifting my lips as I nod toward future-Emma’s ring sitting on the counter between us. “As are you.”
It clings to our silence, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Wonder if Emma knows I’m here and if she feels threatened by it. If there’s a reason to be. If I told him I’m doubting my engagement what he would say.
“About today,” Nash finally says. “I thought we could hang out. Take a break. No plans, just something with Cap this evening. That work?”
It sounds perfect—mostly because it will cost zero dollars—and with my nod, we slip eight years into the past as he makes breakfast and we talk about nothing and everything all at once. Every topic is as safe as it is easy and as far from finger sucking as it gets.
He walks me through every step of his career up to this point. I resented him for being so happy when I saw him that first day, but it’s evident how much he loves it. It’s hard to be a spiteful bitch when he’s smiling so wide and filled with so much passion.
He tells me his mom passed—whom I only met once—from heart failure.
Three years later, it still hurts him to talk about.
Knowing I wasn’t with him when it happened adds another hundred pounds onto the pile of guilt I carry, but the fact she died without ever meeting Bennie will haunt me for the rest of my life.
His dad is still outside of Atlanta, along with his sister, who has a family there too.
I tell him about the antique store—less the financial ruin it’s facing—and gush about Bee.
About how smart she is. How funny. How my mom calls her a stickybeak because she’s constantly eavesdropping and snooping in other people’s business, including her teacher’s calendar when she isn’t looking.
When I told him she goes to Fontain Academy, his eyes lit up.
“Bee’s an interesting name,” he says. “Where’d it come from?”
This is the perfect time to tell him, but selfishly, I don’t want to ruin whatever this day is. It feels good—easy. The first easy day I’ve had in a long time. I have to tell him, I will, but not today. I want today for me.
“So is Frank,” I deflect, half joking.
He chuckles, eyeing the dog who’s currently sprawled out across the living room floor. “Short for Franklin.”
“A nod to your hero.” I laugh so I don’t cry or word vomit and then real vomit all over his lovely house. “I appreciate your commitment to Benjamin Franklin’s legacy.”
His grin and wink fan the flames of my guilt.
“You like Charleston?” I ask.
He washes the dishes and the contoured muscles of his back tug at his T-shirt.
“Love the history. Love the people,” he says over his shoulder. “Hate the traffic.”
I make an agreeing sound; it’s so much busier than Fontain. I don’t know if I could ever live somewhere so fast and loud. So filled with people.
“You said you wanted to expand,” I say. “That mean you’re not done moving around? I remember it’s what you loved about your teaching gig.”
He looks directly at me. “I loved other things more.”
My heart stutters.
“But to answer your question.” He leans a hip on the counter across from me. “I might expand—sounds like a fun challenge to see if I can replicate what I’ve done here somewhere else. But if I’ve learned anything these last eight years, it’s that I don’t really care where I live.”
“Would you—” I fiddle with the engagement ring on my finger that doesn’t seem to fit quite right. “Would you ever live somewhere smaller?”
Since I’m not looking at him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. Have no clue if he’s smiling or smirking or picking his jaw up from his kitchen floor at the absurdity of the question.
Say yes, Nash.
Of course, with him, it’s never that simple.
He circles the island until he’s next to me, using a knuckle to lift my chin to meet his gaze.
“I would live anywhere if the right person asked me to.”
There’s no fighting the pull his eyes have on mine, and I have to tell him the truth. Right now. I don’t know if I want to ask him to move to Fontain, but I can’t think clearly without him knowing.
Bennie is yours. Three words. I can do this.
“Nash . . .”
I swallow.
Open my mouth.
And flinch when my phone rings.
Jonathan’s name on the screen is so big it might as well be a billboard. I decline the call, and a text from him instantly follows. Headed to the mountains and service won’t be great for a few days. Talk then.
Nash sees then takes a step back. “A small town would be an awkward place to live with a husband and fiancé, huh?”
There’s nothing to say to that.