10. Nash
NASH
The house sat on a street I'd driven past a thousand times and never really looked at. Until tonight.
I pulled up to the curb and killed the engine.
Enid's little place sat there under the streetlight, the porch light glowing yellow against the dark.
Rae's car was in the driveway, parked at an angle like she'd been in a hurry.
Seeing it there, parked like she belonged here and not at home with me, made my chest hurt like someone had reached in and grabbed my ribs.
She was inside. She was here, and I didn't even know why.
I sat there for a minute, hands on the wheel, trying to get a grip.
My heart was going like I'd just run a mile.
The whole drive out here I'd been telling myself I could fix this, whatever the hell this was.
I just needed to talk to her. Needed to see her face and figure out what had gone so wrong between this morning and tonight that she'd left her wedding ring on the kitchen counter like it didn't mean anything anymore.
God, that ring. I'd stood there staring at it for five full minutes before I'd picked it up.
I got out of the car. The air was cooler here than in the city, and the street was quiet, the kind of quiet that made you notice how loud your own footsteps were.
A dog barked somewhere down the block. I walked up the path to Enid's front door, my hand going to my pocket.
The ring was there, warm from being against my leg for the last hour.
The metal felt heavier than it should've.
I'd meant to put it back on Rae's finger the second I found it, but I'd frozen.
Like an idiot, I'd just stood there in our empty penthouse and let the panic crawl up my throat until I couldn't breathe.
I knocked.
Footsteps inside. Then the door opened, and Enid stood there blocking the entrance.
She was shorter than Rae, older, with silver streaks in her dark hair and a jawline that looked like it had been carved out of stone.
Her eyes swept over me, cold and assessing, like I was something she'd scraped off her shoe and was deciding whether to bother wiping off.
She didn't move. Didn't smile. Didn't say a damn word.
"I need to talk to my wife," I said.
Enid's arms crossed over her chest. "She doesn't want to talk to you."
"Then she can tell me that herself."
A pause. Enid's mouth thinned, and for a second I thought she was going to slam the door in my face. But then she stepped aside, just enough that I could see past her into the narrow hallway beyond.
Rae stood there.
My stomach dropped. She was maybe ten feet away, her back straight, her shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact.
Her face was composed, perfectly still, and that scared me more than if she'd been crying.
She looked like a stranger. No — worse than that.
She looked like someone who'd made a decision and wasn't going to unmake it no matter what I said.
God, what the hell had I done?
I wanted to shove past Enid, pull Rae into my arms, feel her weight against me and breathe her in until my pulse stopped hammering. But Enid didn't budge, and Rae didn't move, and I was stuck on the wrong side of this doorway like I'd been locked out of my own life.
"Rae," I said. My voice came out rough, scraped raw. "Baby, just tell me what's wrong. Whatever it is, I'll fix it. I swear to God I'll fix it."
Rae's mouth twitched, but it wasn't a smile.
It was something colder, sharper, and it cut right through me.
Her left hand hung at her side, and I could see the bare spot where her ring should've been.
The skin there looked pale, too pale, like the absence of it was a wound she couldn't cover up.
She was rubbing at it with her thumb, a nervous habit I'd seen a hundred times before, and the familiarity of it made my throat go tight.
"How?" she asked. Her voice was quiet. Controlled. "How will you fix it, Nash?"
I blinked, thrown. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said." She tilted her head, and the motion was so calm it made my stomach drop. "You say you'll fix it. So tell me how."
My brain scrambled for the right answer.
She was upset. She'd left the penthouse, left her ring, driven all the way out to Cibolo Heights in the middle of the night.
She needed something from me, something big enough to prove I was serious.
A gesture. Something that showed her she mattered more than the airline, more than the FAA inspection, more than all the bullshit I'd let pile up between us.
The answer hit me all at once, sharp and clear.
"The Maldives," I said. "I'll take you to the Maldives. We'll leave tonight. Right now."
Rae stared at me. Her expression didn't change.
I kept going, the words tumbling out faster now, like if I could just explain it right she'd understand. "Just you and me, no work, no distractions, nothing but us for two weeks. Hell, we'll stay longer if you want. A month. However long you need."
She didn't say anything. Just kept looking at me with those dark eyes that used to soften when I walked into a room and now didn't soften at all.
"The jet's already waiting on the tarmac," I said.
My hands were shaking. I shoved them in my pockets to hide it.
"I called from the car. They're fueling it right now.
I can have us in the air in an hour. We'll stay at that resort you showed me last year, the one with the overwater bungalows and the private beach.
You wanted to go there, remember? You said it looked like something out of a dream.
We'll do it. We'll go, and you can relax, and I'll make sure you have everything you need.
Anything you want, it's yours. We'll forget about the airline, forget about everything, and just be together. "
Rae's throat moved. For half a second I thought I saw something flicker in her eyes, something that looked almost like hope. But then it was gone, and her face went blank again.
"No," she said.
The word landed like a slap. I actually flinched. "What?"
"No." She said it again, quieter this time, but just as final. "I don't want to go to the Maldives."
I opened my mouth, closed it, tried to find some angle that made sense. "Then somewhere else. Anywhere you want. Paris. Bali. Hell, we'll drive down to the coast if that's what you want. I don't care, just name it and we'll go."
She shook her head. Not angry. Not crying. Just done.
Enid shifted beside me, her arms still crossed, her jaw tight. I barely registered her. All I could see was Rae, standing there in that narrow hallway like she'd already walked away from me even though she hadn't moved an inch.
"I don't get it," I said, and my voice cracked. "You won't even tell me what I did wrong. How the hell am I supposed to fix it if you won't tell me?"
Rae's throat moved again, and for half a second I thought she might actually explain. Might give me something to work with, some clue I could use to dig myself out of this hole. But then her expression smoothed out, and I knew I'd lost whatever chance I'd had.
"What do I want more than anything else, Nash?" she asked.
The question threw me. I frowned, my mind racing, trying to figure out what she was asking for.
More than anything? Jesus. I thought about the fights we'd had over the last year, the silences that had stretched between us like gaps I didn't know how to cross.
She'd been tired. Stressed. She'd mentioned the penthouse feeling empty, mentioned wanting to spend more time together, but I'd thought that was just — I don't know, normal marriage stuff.
Things you said when you were frustrated but didn't actually mean.
Things that would blow over once the airline stabilized and I had more time.
But maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe she'd meant it, and I'd been too wrapped up in work to notice.
"You want . . ." I trailed off, my brain scrambling.
Security. Stability. She'd grown up without much, moved around a lot as a kid, never had a place that felt permanent.
I'd promised her she'd never have to live like that again.
That she'd always have a roof over her head, money in the bank, someone who could take care of her.
"You want to know I can take care of you.
That you'll always have what you need. A home that's yours, a life that's stable, that you don't have to stress about whether we're going to be okay financially or whether I'm going to be able to provide for us. "
Rae's face didn't move, but something in her eyes went dark. Like I'd just confirmed something she'd been afraid of. Something she'd hoped I'd prove wrong.
"That's what you think I want," she said. It wasn't a question.
I felt like I was standing on ice and it was cracking under my feet. "Isn't it?"
She looked at me for a long moment. I swear to God I saw her hand twitch, like she wanted to reach for something that wasn't there anymore. Then she dropped her gaze to the floor and let out a breath that sounded like it hurt.
My chest tightened. I'd gotten it wrong. I didn't know how, but I had.
"Please," I said, and I didn't care that Enid was standing right there watching or that my voice was shaking like I was coming apart. "Rae, just talk to me. Tell me what you want. I'll do it, whatever it is. I swear to God I will. Just don't shut me out like this."
She lifted her head. Her jaw was set, her eyes dry, and she looked at me like I was a problem she'd finally figured out how to solve.
"I want you to leave," she said.
The words hit me square in the chest. I actually stepped back, like she'd shoved me. "What?"
"Leave, Nash." Her voice was steady. Cold. Nothing like the woman who used to curl into my side on the couch and laugh at my bad jokes. "Go home. I don't want you here."
"Rae —"
"I mean it." She crossed her arms, mirroring Enid, and the two of them stood there like a wall I couldn't get through. "Go."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to push past Enid, grab Rae by the shoulders, make her look at me until she saw how much I needed her to just explain.
But her face was stone, and Enid's hand moved to the door like she was ready to slam it in my face, and I realized with a sick lurch in my stomach that if I pushed any harder I'd only make things worse.
My hand went to my pocket again. The ring pressed into my palm, the metal cutting into my skin.
I wanted to pull it out, to put it in her hand and tell her she couldn't just walk away from seven years like this.
Tell her we were supposed to be in this together, for better or worse, and she didn't get to quit on us without even giving me a chance to make it right.
But I didn't. Because if I gave it to her now and she handed it back, I didn't think I'd survive it.
"Okay," I said. The word tasted like ash. "Okay. I'll go."
Rae didn't answer. Didn't move. Just stood there with her arms crossed and her face blank, and I had no idea how to reach her anymore. The woman I'd married was somewhere behind that mask, but I couldn't see her. Couldn't find the crack in the wall that would let me back in.
I turned and walked back down the path. My legs felt like lead, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. The night air hit my face, cold and sharp, but it didn't help. Nothing helped. Behind me, I heard the door close. Not a slam. Just a quiet, final click that said I wasn't welcome anymore.
I got in the car and sat there, hands on the wheel, staring at the house.
The porch light was still on, warm and yellow against the dark.
I could see shadows moving inside through the curtains.
Rae's shadow. She was still there, so close I could've walked back up to that door and knocked again. Could've begged until she let me in.
But she'd told me to leave.
I started the engine. The sound was too loud in the quiet street, intrusive, like I was disturbing something that didn't want me there. I pulled away from the curb, watching the house shrink in the rearview mirror until it was just another little place on a street I'd driven past a thousand times.
Except now it mattered. Now it was the place my wife had run to when she didn't want to come home to me.
I drove.