Anxious knots twist my insides. The sweat beading at the nape of my neck and causing my shirt to stick to my back is uncomfortable. Every breath seems to come so quickly after the last, I wonder if I’ll start hyperventilating soon. I haven’t been this nervous since the day I took the SATs at seventeen.
I shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just dinner with the Hughes family. There have been hundreds over the years. Yet, for the others, I wasn’t dating their daughter or sister. I wasn’t fucking her day and night because minutes away from her felt like an eternity. In my mind, if I didn’t take advantage of every moment now, I might lose her.
I can’t lose her.
Betty pleaded with me to drive separately. An ask that nearly made me cry like a fucking chump. It told me more than I wanted to acknowledge. She still doesn’t quite believe me. She still doubts that I’m in this and not going anywhere. The signsare there daily, but until today, I could pretend like we were moving past them.
Every action of mine has been with the intent of proving to her I’m in this. That we’re now aweand will be until the daywedie. It’s impossible to say how I know she’s it for me, but I do. Betty is everything to me. It’s as if her confession revealed a missing piece inside me that only she could fit into.
I’ve talked to Hunt about it. It’s like my feelings for her were a switch flipped overnight. But no one knows me like he does. He listened while I recapped twenty-three years of knowing her.“Buddy, this is what it looks like to fall in love with a friend and the soul that matches yours. It doesn’t matter that you only just figured it out. Things like this are always only a matter of time,”he’d said. I knew my best friend could be sentimental, but this was a side of him he’d never let me see.
Parking in front of her parents’ house, I release one more ragged breath before climbing out of the truck. My steps are sure as I march up to the front door, that crooked step creaking under my weight. Letting myself in the way I always have, I worry my lip, hoping I don’t ruin this for Betty. Not when I am still working so hard to earn her trust.
Just act normal, Nash. Same as you’ve always been.
Betty isn’t ready to tell everyone about us yet, and I respect that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. It doesn’t mean I’m not wracking my brain trying to figure out how to ensure she believes me.
“Nash!” Mr. Hughes appears around the corner, pulling me into a bear hug.
A soft laugh funnels out of me. “Hey, Mr. Hughes.”
“How you holding up, son? Glad to hear your momma is doing better. You send them our best now.” He points a playful finger, but I know he means business. He’ll know if I don’t relay the message just as he intended.
Taking a step back, I fix a few of the flowers in the bouquet I bought for Betty. Flowers of every type and color, curated just for her. The florist had thought I was insane until I explained it to her. Then she thought I was the sweetest husband alive.
I almost corrected her, but my heart and head enjoyed hearinghusbanda little too much. It wasn’t something I cared about with Katherine. But attaching that innocuous word to Betty set my insides on fire. It felt right. It felt exciting.
“Beckett’s out back,” Mr. Hughes points a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s got the grill fired up, getting ready to put the steaks on.”
“Thanks, but I want to give these to Betty first.” I raise the bouquet, flashing a grin that surely must have me looking like a fool.
“Ahh,” Mr. Hughes snorts. “You always did know how to make my little girl smile.”
Something like pride fills my chest. Maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe I should be worried that he figured out there’s something between us. The flowers shouldn’t have given us away. I bought them last time too. “Kitchen,” he cocks his head to the side, allowing me to pass without another word.
The sounds of Betty and her mother singing and laughing as they chop vegetables for a salad draw out a grin from me. Once again, images of what our life could look like together flash before my eyes.
“Hi,” I interrupt, ducking into their sacred space.
Betty jumps, her hand flying to her chest. “Nash. Oh, hi,” she breathes, picking up the leaves of lettuce that flew to the floor with her reaction.
I wait for her to stand before handing her the flowers. She’s quick to take them from my hands, studying them with a goofy grin on her face. “Thank you,” she all but whispers.
Hug me. Kiss me. Please.
Yet, she doesn’t. The flowers remain clutched to her chest as if they are the most precious thing in the world. Anxious energy seems to make my body vibrate as I stand here staring at her, waiting until those brown eyes find mine. So much shines in their warm brown hue. Appreciation. Lust. Love. The same love she has always held for me is clearer now. Gratitude fills my heart that my actions and time never made it fade away. Even when I didn’t realize what it was, she’s always looked at me that very same way.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Mrs. Hughes pulls me out of my trance, hugging me close, then looking me over at arm’s distance. “We heard about your sweet momma. She’s going to be okay, sweetheart.” She pats my cheek before returning to her prep. “Do you mind setting the table for me while we finish up in here?”
“Uh, no. Not at all.”
Knowing my way around the kitchen, I grab the everyday plates and silverware, just as I had so many times when I was younger. It was always the kids who set the table, often rotating between me and Beckett because Betty wanted to learn how to cook.
The moment alone is necessary as emotion swells in my chest. The Hugheses and my parents have never been close friends per se, but Cole County is massive until it’s not. We all know one another, and my parents knew how much time I’ve spent here over the years.
My mother’s recent health concerns have felt like something I’ve had to carry alone. Sure, Hunt knew, and my parents are as positive as they can be. But my sisters haven’t even bothered to come home and see her. Their phone calls stream in daily, but remain short, with just enough time to dole out the bullet points of an update before one of their children screeches in the background.
I’ve never cared that they wanted to have their own lives. We always wanted different things, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We’re all entitled to live the lives we choose, but fuck do I resent them for not caring more sometimes. Mom and Dad deserve that. They gave us everything and then some growing up. We never wanted for anything, even when times were tough. At the very least, they could show up when our mother is laid up in the hospital.
