Kenzi groaned. “You’d think watching our dad die from alcohol poisoning would be enough to sober her up.”
Nash held out a cookie. He didn’t offer a judgment on her sister, nor on her statement, and she wondered what was going on inside his head. If their roles were switched, she’d take the first stop off the bizarre Ferris wheel and run home screaming.
Thank goodness for the nondisclosure agreement. The last thing her family needed right now was bad press. She’d worked overtime to keep the real cause for Dad’s declining health a secret, and at the same time, she couldn’t believe she’d turned into the type of woman who felt she had to hide things from the world. With each newthedoctors say it’s worse than we first thoughtandthank you for your prayers,she’d sunk deeper into the hole. She didn’t like the hole at all. It was small, dark, and cold.
Feeling as though the walls were closing in around her, she turned to Nash and confessed everything. “My sister is an unrepentant, high-functioning alcoholic. She picks the time to binge well, usually a Saturday night when the only thing she’ll miss out on is church the next morning.”
The words tumbled out of her mouth like coils of a rope unwinding. With each turn of phrase, the hole had less control of her, less of a hold. “If the past is any indication, Lunette will be cleaned up and presentable by four. We have family coming over to express their condolences and review Dad’s funeral plan.”
She chewed her lip. Her mother’s mother would be there. Grandma Treekle was always a … straining joy to be around. They reached her suite and she pushed the door open for him since his hands were full of cookies. “Dad preplanned the service. I’m sure it will be lovely.”
“Why does that bother you?”
His perception of her annoyance was surprising. She’d have to remember that he was good at reading her. “I have no idea.” She rubbed her forehead and followed him into the kitchen and snagged another cookie.
Nash stood in the middle of the floor, between the island and the stove. He shifted his weight. “What’s my role in all this?”
She leaned her forearms on the island and broke apart her cookie to eat in small pieces. The chocolate and sugar were comforting. “You won’t have to do anything tonight. In fact, if you’ll stay out of sight, that might even be better. I’ll break the news to the family and take the backlash.”
His eyebrows went up. “Will there be a lot of backlash?”
She swallowed, thinking of Grandma Treekle’s traditional views on marriage. “Not too much. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I get the feeling you handle your family a lot.”
“What’s that mean?” She bristled, ready for a confrontation.
“Nothing. Forget I even mentioned it.” He set the plate on the counter. “If you don’t need me, I think I’ll do some shopping.”
“Oh.” Her heart dropped two floors. She liked having him around, liked his calmness, the way he didn’t blurt out everything that was on his mind. Which was why his comment about managing her family didn’t disappear. She swiped the crumbs off the counter and tossed them in the trash bin under the sink. Words should be that easy to wipe away, but they weren’t. Once something was said out loud, it was between people forever. “You’re welcome to take my car. It’s in the small garage just out this door.” She pointed to a large cabinet door next to the pantry.
Nash pulled on the small, reinforced handle and opened the door, letting in a cool draft off the garage’s concrete floor. “I didn’t even know that was there.”
She smiled. “I didn’t want it to stand out, so I had the cabinet company work it into the cabinets.”
“Smart.”
Her smile grew, making her cheeks feel like they were cracking off a mud facial mask. Smiling was one of those things she did without thinking. At least, she had smiled without thinking before the diagnosis.
“What?” Nash asked. “You’re thinking far too hard over a hidden door.” He shut it again and came to stand near her.
“I heard once that there were events that change the course of your life in such a way that you have a lifebeforethey happened and a lifeafterthey happened, but the two are quite different—if only inside of you.”
“That is much deeper than a hidden door.” He laid his hand over both of hers on the counter. “I’m sorry for your loss, Kensington.”
She stared at their hands: hers clasped together and wound tight, and his warm and relaxed and comforting. She shivered, unaware of how cold she’d been until his touch. “Call me Kenzi.”
She lifted her gaze to stumble upon his greenish-gray eyes, full of empathy and understanding. Her heart, which had been beating at a slow and lumbered pace, picked up speed, hurtling her thoughts to what life would be like with a man like Nash.
With a jerk, she remembered herself, remembered who she was, what her plan was in this life, and the whole reason she’d married Nash in the first place. Pulling her hands free, she stared at his collarbone, doing her best not to notice the muscles just below it. “We’ll have two days of reprieve, including today, and then the funeral. After that, it’s back to work on Monday. I’m assuming that’s when it’s all going to hit the fan.”
“What happens after the vote?”
“War.” She glanced up at him and pressed her lips together. “I need to give you all the variables. Just…not today. I need today.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow.” Kenzi went in search of Lena to go over the details of the family gathering that afternoon. It really wasn’t a big deal—light refreshments while the funeral director told them where to sit and park and how they planned to navigate with the press.
The moment she left Nash, her heart slowed back down and her hands and feet went cold. She rubbed her hands briskly over her arms. As her thoughts turned to what would happen after the funeral, she shivered for a whole different reason.
* * *
The small family gathering scheduled for the evening before had turned into a reception. Family, friends, and coworkers converged upon the house to offer their condolences. Kenzi managed to avoid many awkward conversations simply because there were so many people in the house.
Since only her immediate family knew she’d gotten married, no one asked where her husband was in the crush of people who flowed through the front door like a flash flood. It was in the back of her head to ask Lunette, who had pulled herself together quite nicely for the evening, and Raquel which of them had sent out the invitations.
Nash’s story of his mom and the cookies crowded out the idea that her sisters had turned their father’s passing into the social event of the year. She decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and be the gracious host she was trained to be. By the end of the night, she’d fallen into bed, the scent of Nash’s soap lingering through the open bathroom door.
She wasn’t sure why she’d left it open. She certainly wasn’t inviting him into her bedroom. Just knowing he would hear her if she cried out had given her enough comfort to fall asleep and sleep deeply.
