I lift my hands to my breasts and cover them, suddenly modest. “I’m gonna let you have some peace.”
“What?”
I start to pull up the top of my dress and turn toward the stairs. “I think I’m going to go stay at my old place. My only place. You have a lot to process and deal with and I will just be an annoyance.”
“I think we’ve moved past the annoyance thing,” Nash replies, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. His fingers lace through my hair, brushing it off my back and over my right shoulder as his lips land gently on my left one. “Tenley, if you want to go because you need space, then go. I won’t stop you. I’ll never crowd you. But if you’re leaving because you think I need space, it’s the last thing I need. I have grown to find your company… soothing.”
“Oh my God, we have totally fucked up this marriage,” I whisper and it earns me a deep chuckle from my husband.
“Yeah, I think we may have veered a little off the plan we had,” Nash admits. “Trust me no one is more freaked out about that than me. But I am not in the mood to process it. I just made the conference finals and delivered karma to someone who has outrun it for far too long. Let’s just deal with the rest later.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
He leaves me standing there and heads into the bathroom where he fetches two towels and then pauses to drop his pants and slide off his boxer briefs before he hands me a towel and helps me out of my dress. I leave it in a pool on the hardwood floor, along with my panties, and I wrap the towel around myself and climb the ladder he drops from the ceiling.
We spend the next two hours in the hot tub, just cuddling and kissing. I massage his leg a little, and he orders garlic knots and chicken parm. When we're shriveled-up prunes, we head downstairs, collect the order from outside the door, and eat it side-by-side at the kitchen island. We talk about Aunt Callie, who is scheduled for a biopsy in two days, and my trip home, because I am not going to sit here for that. We talk about the docu-series and laugh about some of the stupid stuff we've both said while filming. We basically avoid anything heavy and it feels good even though it also feels like we both know we're dancing around one hell of an emotional elephant in the middle of our lives. But fuck it.
When it’s time for bed, he takes me by the hand and leads me upstairs and I don’t argue. We don’t have sex, we simply kiss until we’re too drowsy to continue and then I fall asleep with one of his arms snuggly around my back, the other running lazily through my hair, and my head on his chest with the strong beat of his heart under my ear bringing me peace.
I wake up before him the next morning, which is a first since moving in here. I slip out of bed without waking him and sneak downstairs where I change into some fresh clothes and pad into the kitchen. His fridge is fully stocked, as always, thanks to grocery delivery. I should dare him to set foot in a grocery store. He'd probably starve to death trying to find all the things in this fridge. I smile at the thought, but my heart is still heavy. I have to fix this.
My parents didn’t come to the game last night. They’re back in Maine because my mom won’t leave Callie’s side and my dad won’t leave my mom. Tate totally understands. I do too. So this plan that has been floating around my head since I woke up at 4am is not ideal, but it still has to be done.
I pull my phone out of the pocket of the jean shorts I put on and text two people—Tate and Nash’s mom. Then I go about making breakfast for everyone. The smell wakes Nash and he calls down to me.
“Are you making bacon?”
“No. I’m making this sad excuse called turkey bacon because it’s all you have,” I call back. “With eggs and waffles.”
“I can’t eat waffles.”
"No, but your parents can! And Mallory and Dyllie Bear."
There’s a moment of silence. “Are they here?”
“They will be in a couple minutes. So get dressed, hubster.”
He doesn’t respond but when I plate the last waffle and the door buzzes I turn to find him walking down the stairs in a t-shirt and workout shorts. And then he stumbles on the last step and almost falls on his face. I rush toward him. “Oh my God, is me being a domestic Goddess that stunning a sight that you forgot how to walk?”
He smirks at me as he rights himself.
“Yes.” I smack his chest. “Actually my foot is still asleep.”
"Well, then I'll get the door," I reply. "You get yourself some coffee."
“I’ll make lattes for everyone,” Nash replies. “But why is everyone here?”
“You’ll see,” I call out but that’s all I say as I walk down the hall to open the door.
Tate, Mallory, and Dylan are there, not his parents. Mallory hugs me as she steps inside and sniffs. “Do I smell bacon?”
“Kind of,” I reply as she wanders down the hall past me.
“Dyllie Bear!” I say to my little nephew and hold up my hand. As he toddles past he high-fives me.
Tate chuckles and watches him follow Mallory. My brother leans in for a hug and I notice the tape on his hand. “What happened?”
