“You, Nash-Hole are yet to turn down or lose a dare. Congrats.”
His parents leave Crew’s side and come over to congratulate him. A moment later I’m carefully shuffling off the ice with everyone else and Nash is holding my hand and gliding beside me. He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for coming to New York with me tomorrow.”
“Nowhere else I would ever be,” I reply simply. He’s going to have surgery the day after tomorrow and even though we’re assured it’s a simple procedure with minimal risk, I want to be by his side. Because I love him. Desperately. “Besides, we’re not divorced yet. I don’t want to look like a bad wife.”
“Right. Wouldn’t want that.” Nash rolls his eyes as he grins.
I give him a shove toward the locker room, which does nothing because he’s a brick wall on skates. “Go. Get stupid with the boys.”
“Bossy. But okay. If you insist.”
I get tipsy on champagne with the families in the VIP room while Nash does the same with his teammates in the locker room. Hours later the party moves to Musica’s and we find ourselves walking hand-in-hand on the beach toward the loft as the sun rises.
“Our flight to New York is in six hours,” he reminds me and I groan. “If I fall asleep now, I’ll probably miss it so maybe we should just have sex until it’s time to go.”
I laugh. “I like the idea, but you need to sleep it off. I don’t think the doctor will want to operate on you if you’re hungover and your blood is still forty-five percent champagne.”
“Hey,” he grumbles. “I’m the rule follower and worrier, not you, remember.”
“Fine. I’ll suck you off right here and now,” I start to drop to my knees on the cool sand but he tugs me to my feet and drags me off the beach.
We do have sex, and it's slow and perfect, but we manage three hours of shut-eye before we race through a shower together and get to the airport just in time to board the plane. His parents, Crew, and Liv are all in seats in the first-class cabin as well. Nash is genuinely shocked to see them.
“I’m not letting you go to New York without me again,” Crew says like it’s no big deal. “That food you were eating in that Warren photo looked incredible. I need to go there.”
Nash shakes his head. “We’ll go tonight. But I’m getting their burger. I need to soak up the remaining alcohol.”
We have a nice night out together and then Nash and I wake up the next morning and cuddle wordlessly. I have so much I want to say, like tell him, flat-out, that I love him, but now it feels too late. I don’t want him to think I said it just because I’m worried about the operation or something. He’s not allowed to eat because of the impending surgery but he offers to order me room service for breakfast. I decline. I couldn’t put a thing in my stomach right now. I know he’ll be fine but I am still nervous.
We meet everyone else at the hospital where Nash gets assigned a room and we all settle in while he does some pre-surgery blood work and then we wait. A nurse comes in after about half an hour and hooks him up to an I.V. and a bag of something she says will loosen him up before the surgery. Forty minutes later an orderly walks in. “We’re ready to take you down.”
Nash nods. He looks at his family. “Can you give me a second with Ten?”
They all hug him and disappear. The nurse and orderly step into the hall. He sighs. “Hey, so I’m a little nervous and slightly loopy from whatever the hell they stuck in my arm.” He points to the IV hooked to his arm. “I may not even remember saying this but I wanted to tell you I love you.”
I laugh. He doesn't even seem offended. "I mean, the last thing I don't remember doing is marrying you and that turned out to be the best decision of my life… even if I have to divorce you. Anyway, I love you."
“I love you too.” I lean in and kiss him. His lips barely move. They have to have him on something strong.
“You love me.” He sighs dreamily. It’s adorable.
“I do, Nash-Hole. Don’t let it go to your head.” I kiss him again. “And please be okay because I can divorce you, but I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” he promises softly.
But I swear, it isn’t until the doctor is standing in front of us in the waiting room and says, “Everything went textbook. He should have no outstanding issues,” that I can actually take a full breath again. “He’s in recovery and very woozy so only one family member at a time.”
I sit back down on the slightly uncomfortable chair and let relief wash over me. Stephanie puts a hand on my shoulder. “Honey?”
“Yes?”
“You should be the first to see him.” She smiles. “He’d want that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Avery says. “You’re his wife.”
“I’m… but you know…” I pause. He’s right. We may still be divorcing but in my heart, I’ll always be his wife. “Thanks.”
