Nash took the beer. “Thank you.”
My father waved him off and then turned to me. He grabbed the tray and nodded to the other bottles of beer. I grabbed one, since I knew the third was likely for Everett. My father wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker. There were also three glasses of lemonade.
“Wasn’t sure what our guest would want,” my father said as motioned with his chin to the bottle. “Not sure if he’s a beer drinker.”
“He is,” Nash and I both said at the same exact time.
My father smiled wide and shook his head, but didn’t say anything. He reminded me of the Cheshire Cat fromAlice in Wonderland.
“He prefers wine,” I heard Nash say, even though his eyes were still on me.
“But sometimes he’ll have a beer right before dinner. Though not this early.”
“Good to know,” my father said knowingly before he hurried down the steps and made his way to Everett and Charlie. Everett quickly turned over a bucket they’d been using to collect the weedsin so that my father would have someplace to set the tray. I returned to sit next to Nash and wasn’t in the least bit surprised when Everett declined the beer and pointed at the lemonade instead.
I held my bottle in Nash’s direction and waited. Without me needing to say anything, he clinked his bottle against mine. I was glad when he sipped at his beer. It was a baby step, but it was still progress.
And I could sure use a win.
“So, Mister Fix-It,” Nash began.
“That’s going to be a thing, isn’t it?” I interrupted.
“You bet your ass it is.”
I chuckled and nodded.
“So, why did you do it? Really,” Nash asked.
I didn’t need to ask what he meant. “I saw the way you looked at him. I saw it that first day in the hospital. I thought you guys were a thing, actually. But once you got here, it became clear that Everett didn’t have a clue.”
“Why would he?” Nash asked. “He’s the goddamn president. Guys like us… we’ve got no chance with a guy like him.”
It was odd to have someone give voice to my own insecurities.
I smiled and said, “You’re as blind as he is if you think that’s true, Nash. You’re so busy trying to keep him from figuring you out that you don’t even see what’s right in front of you.”
Nash was quiet for a long time before he said, “You saw the records. You’re still wearing the evidence on your face. Even if what you’re saying is true, a guy like himshouldn’twant a guy like me.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, you’re gorgeous, smart, a proven survivor, and you might as well worship the ground he walks on – he can do so much better,” I drawled before taking a sip of my beer.
Nash began drumming his fingers again. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?” I asked.
“Pushing this. I know you want him. And it was pretty damn hard not to notice the feeling is mutual. Not after that night…”
Nash’s voice dropped off.
“So you did see us,” I ventured. I’d guessed that Nash had seen me and Everett kissing, but I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure.
He didn’t respond to the comment.
“He’s not sleeping,” Nash murmured. Despite the whiplash-like nature of the change in conversation, I was grateful for it because I didn’t have an explanation as to why I was pushing him toward Everett.
“Everett?” I asked, though in retrospect, it was a dumb question.
Nash nodded. “He just sits in front of the TV night after night. Not watching, though. He just stares at it. Damn thing has been on the same news channel every night. He fucking hates the news.”
