“I already am, wifey.”
He leaned forward as if to kiss her, but before their lips could connect, a car door slammed, startling them apart. The two of them glanced toward the sound and found Nash strolling back from Asher’s car.
With a grin, Nash waved. “I figured I’d save y’all some time and tossed Nat’s bags in the back seat. I’d invite y’all in the house, but Rory’d lose her shit if you two boned on the couch, and I can see where this is goin’. Call me when you get back from wherever the fuck, and we’ll hang out.”
The screen door shut behind Nash as he disappeared into the house, and Asher breathed out a laugh against Nat’s smiling lips.
“Guess he told us,” she said.
“Guess so. It’s probably better he disappeared. He’d be unbearable to be around since he’s probably feelin’ pretty fucking cocky about bein’ right.”
Gazing up at him, she clutched their wedding album to her chest with one hand and tucked the fingers of her other into the pocket of his jeans. “Oh yeah? What was he right about?”
Asher hummed and brushed a lock of windblown hair away from her face. “He might’ve insinuated that we had our heads up our asses and didn’t realize we were both in love with each other.”
“We are, huh?” she asked, her head tipped to the side. “You sure it’s not just for show?”
“It might’ve started that way, but I can promise you that’s not how it’s ending.”
Closing the distance between them, he pressed his lips to hers. Tentatively at first, until she reached blindly behind her and placed the album on the truck bed and then wrapped her arms around him and clutched him to her as if she were afraid he’d slip through her fingers again. But she’d be damned if she let that happen.
How was she lucky enough to find this love? A love that wasn’t suffocating or confining. It wasn’t demanding, only accepting. Being with him had never felt like she’d been locked up tight, trapped with no way out.
The two of them together—thefourof them making a life—felt like nothing but possibilities.
Nat had seen Asher be a lot of things in the years they’d spent together. She’d seen him be a rebel, a troublemaker, a partner in crime. An adrenaline junkie, a musician, a loyal friend, the getaway driver, and the person who had paid her bail more times than anyone else. And now, her days were filled with seeing him be a loving husband—to her, of all people—and a doting father to two kids he hadn’t planned for but loved all the same.
The first couple months after Asher had asked her to stay had been tricky. Things had already been in motion and shoots previously scheduled, so she’d gone to Ireland then to Barcelona and Liechtenstein. But after each shoot, instead of going to Portland or some other random destination she picked on a whim, she went home.
To him. Tothem. And tomorrow, the four of them were about to set off on Route 66 with no itinerary except for them to stop whenever she was inspired. She could say that, in all her adventures, there’d never been one that would be as adventurous as this—traveling across the United States in a converted van with a fourteen-month-old and a four-year-old. And she couldn’t wait.
With her arms full of laundry, she strode down the hall and dropped the clothes in a pile on their bed, her ears perking up at the strum of a guitar. She tiptoed down the hallway to Owen’s room and peeked her head inside. The baby stood in his crib, gripping the side rails, grinning at Asher and June.
Asher sat in the rocking chair with June perched in his lap, a guitar held in front of them. “You’ve gotta hold it tight, bug. It might hurt your fingers a little bit till you get calluses built up like I do.”
“What’re calluses?” June asked.
Asher held out his hand, palm up, so she could see the rough patches on the tips of his fingers. Ones Nat knew the delicious scratch of intimately. “These. Fingers need to harden up to play.”
“Are they there forever?”
“They will be as long as I’m playin’ guitar. So, yeah, they’ll be there forever.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You wanna try again?”
“Yeah!”
“And maybe Nat wants to come in and listen instead of spyin’ at the door.”
She huffed out a laugh and stepped into the doorway, leaning against the jamb. “I don’t understand. Itiptoedhere.”
“Cement blocks, wifey. I’m afraid you’re never gonna be able to sneak up on me.”
“Was that a challenge? Because it sounded like a challenge.”
He laughed low and shook his head before placing June’s fingers back on the strings. “All right, let’s play this, and then it’s bedtime.”
“But I’m not tired.” June’s shoulders slumped as she appraised them each with a pout.
“You’re gonna be real tired in the mornin’ when we leave if you haven’t gotten any sleep.”
