“I don’t think you’ll want to stay near them,” I mutter, entering the room and dropping her suitcase on the bench at the end of the bed. “I’m across the hall if you need anything.”
She still won’t meet my stare, and it’s breaking my fucking heart. Maybe if she just looks at me, I can apologize. I still want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, but she won’t believe it, not after how I behaved.
The worst part is I didn’t even realize I was doing something wrong until it was too late.
“I’m fine.” Her voice is so small, so broken. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and hold her, but I can’t. I lost that chance the moment I didn’t open up to her.
In an instant, she turns her back to me, unzipping her suitcase. A dismissal that guts me worse than any of the words she’s slung at me, calling me on my shit.
Retreating, I close the door behind me, jog down the steps, grab my keys, and leave the house.
I’m not going to survive in this house for three days with her ignoring me. I just can’t. So I throw my truck in reverse, turn around, and bolt down my drive toward the gym. The burn is the only way I might stay sane.
Chapter 26
Betty
The moment the first bead of sunshine peeks over the treetops, I’m out of bed and heading downstairs to the kitchen.
I assume Nash has coffee. If anyone’s caffeine addiction could rival mine, it’s that man. He’ll have the good stuff, I’m sure of it. It was a commonality we found during our week of bliss. That black cup of instant energy is a necessity first thing, and not that typical grocery store brand nonsense. Exotic blends from South America are what get us going.
The pungent aroma of those energy beans hits me as I descend the stairs closest to the room I’d stayed in. Between thinking about Nash and River screaming through the night, sleep never found me. Just like the night before, I tossed and turned nonstop.
Shuffling into the kitchen, with the wood floors cold beneath my feet, my eyes meet Nash’s. Those bright blue orbs nearly make me melt. His hair is messy, just like it had been themorning we woke up in the cabin. My eyelids fight to flutter closed so I can recall the memory of running my fingers through his locks while he peppered kisses along my jaw and collarbone.
“Morning,” he grumbles, sipping from his mug. His voice is clear, absent of the gravel it held when I woke up in his arms.
The memories from that night and the following morning continue to filter to the forefront of my thoughts. He’d been so sweet. The way he’d held me and told me how beautiful I was first thing in the morning gave me the wildest butterflies. I’d tried to sneak off to brush my teeth and wipe the sleep from my eyes, but he’d only held me there, kissing me like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do in life.
Shaking my head, I suck in a deep breath.
You’re okay, Betty. You can do this. Give it to him straight.
But when I meet his gaze again, I can’t do it. The primary reason I came here was to confront him.In or out?Those were his options. Did he want to be with me or not? That’s all I needed to know, and I can’t even open my mouth to say good morning.
I shouldn’t have come here. Nash was always a fantasy, and that’s where he should have stayed. Ward may not have been forever for me either, but I’m surprisingly not heartbroken. He was the type of man my aunts always said I should find: one who wants you more than you want him.
Fail.
With an awkward wave, I reach into the glass cabinet, grab a mug, and pour myself a cup of coffee. The barstools at the kitchen island are the only place to sit unless I leave the kitchen altogether. But in a museum like this, I’m not sure how Nash feels about food and drinks in other rooms. So I have a choice: the seat beside him or the two across from him.
Choosing to put the four feet of marble between us, I slide onto the stool diagonal to his. Twisting the warm mug between my hands, I keep my focus toward the wall of glass at the back ofhis home. There’s a massive patio area with furniture and a pool beyond that, surrounded by lush green grass and then a barrier of trees. It’s stunning. The perfect distraction until Gray and River stumble into the kitchen, looking much more rested than Nash and me.
“Uh, good morning.” Gray seems to word vomit hesitantly, unsure of what he walked in on. Only my heart is shattering as I sit here across from the only man I’ve ever truly wanted. “Did we interrupt something?”
“No!” Nash and I both practically shout in unison, our eyes meeting before we quickly look away. As if my eyes know it will hurt too much to look at his face and know he’s fine, that he doesn’t want me here, I only stare down into my mug.
“Right, uh… is there more coffee?” Gray runs his hands through his hair. The poor guy looks like a scared animal. His hold on his wife’s hand is firm enough that he could tug her and run as if he believes Nash and I will explode at any moment. We won’t. We’re barely acknowledging one another.
“Help yourself,” Nash cocks his head backward.
River darts toward the pot, pouring herself a mug so full she’ll need to sip it before she turns away.
As if he were ready and waiting, Gray snatches the mug from her. “No, you don’t.” The sound of his lips pecking her mouth causes my stomach to roll and my chest to ache. His grin only widens as River becomes more irritated, her eyes narrowing on his face.
“Gray, give that back to me. I’m dying,” she whines. My brows shoot high. That’s not like River. She makes demands. She holds her ground. Everything about that powerhouse of a woman is strong.
“Not a chance, baby.” Gray’s lips brush hers again, smiling widely while she pouts.
