And for whatever reason I’m achingly aware that I’m going to have to let Lucy go.
But tonight, she’s here.
And so am I.
And for now, that’s enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Lucy
“Do you want ice cream?” I lift my head from Nash’s chest. “I want ice cream.”
His arm is tucked under his head, hair tousled, a wild and wonderful reminder of what we just did. His brows furrow as he meets my gaze. “Now?”
“Why not?”
He shifts onto his elbows, brushing a lock of hair out of my face, eyes soft, touch gentle. “For one, I’m fully enjoying what we’re doing right now.”
And I am, too. So much. Being in his arms brings a sense of fullness, of safety and security, of being made whole. Something I’ve never experienced before and somehow, without even knowing, have been craving for all my life.
“But what if,” I begin, with as much mischief as I canmuster, “after some ice cream, we fully enjoy it all over again? That’s win, win… right?”
A slow grin stretches across Nash’s face. “Now that’s something I can get behind.”
He throws back the covers and scoots out from under me, dropping my head unceremoniously onto the mattress.
“Hey!” I cry, surprised.
“You think you can dangle more of that goodness in front of me and I’m not gonna leap at the chance? Come on, woman. Up and at ‘em.” He makes shooing motions and I stand and dress, laughing as he shimmies into a pair of pants.
This is a side of him that’s been showing up more and more. Playful. Silly. Light. I don’t know if anyone else ever gets to see it, but the contrast between this joking energy and the no-nonsense grump I first met is endearing. Maybe this is who he used to be, before the divorce, before his life became only about work, before he shut himself off from trusting someone enough to be vulnerable.
“What are you in the mood for?” Nash asks as we head for the door. “Grab a pint of something from the grocery store? Or do you want to go to Lickety Split and walk the beach while we eat?” He swipes his keys off the table, turning to me with a grin as he opens the door behind him. “I vote the grocery store. Because the sooner we get home, the sooner I get you back in bed. And that’s just better for everyone.”
My eyes go wide as the door fully opens.
Standing there, on the porch, looking mildly baffled and totally distressed, are my parents… who definitely overheard Nash saying he can’t wait to get me back in bed.
What are they doing here?
How do they even know where here is?
Nash notices my expression and turns. “Can I help you?”
“Can I…?” Dad looks at Mom like he can’t believe this man he’s never met didn’t instantly recognize him.
I step forward before he can engage full tirade mode. “Mom. Dad. Hi.” Somehow, despite my confusion, I sound somewhat casual. “Uhh… this is Nash. Nash. These are my parents. Russ and Miranda Calder.”
There’s a tense moment of silence as Mom offers a plastic smile designed to smooth the situation and shakes Nash’s hand, while Dad glares in full, frustrated, prenuclear disapproval.
“What, uh, what are you guys doing here?” I ask, smooth as ever.
“We thought we’d surprise you by taking you for dessert at Holiday’s,” Mom begins. “So we stopped by Stella’s after dinner and she seemed confused… to say the least…”
“Since you haven’t lived with her in weeks.” Dad’s voice is fire dipped in ice. My stomach drops like I’m sixteen again.
“We’re just a little surprised is all,” Mom adds, trying to gloss over his sharpness.
