And now we’re spending six weeks in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, where Nash calls home. If you’d asked me twelve months ago if this is where I’d gladly spend my summer, I’d have laughed in your face. But there is nowhere I would rather be. My mom has always said life can throw some curveballs, and this curveball hit me right in the heart.
When Nash’s kisses climb my neck I rake my fingers into his thick hair, which is even lighter than normal because of our endless days in the sun, and whisper in his ear. “My turn… get your pretty cock out.”
He chuckles. It rumbles up from his belly and a smile curls his lips but he kisses my forehead and gets out of bed. “Rain check, baby. Crew, Liv, and my parents are going to be here early for the Canada Day barbecue and I want to sneak in a small workout.”
“I can give you a workout.”
I let the sheet fall to my hips as I sit up. My naked torso is on display and his eyes drink in every part of me, especially my breasts. I wish I could get over my trauma, but I still haven't been able to let him touch them, at least not for long. Nash doesn't care. I know this for a fact because he doesn't mention it. Nash is nothing if not straightforward. A trait I used to tease him about, I have grown to appreciate deeply. I always know where I stand with Nash and vice versa.
“You’re killing me,” Nash says and walks slowly over to the edge of the bed. He leans down and gives me a searing kiss. “Rain check.”
I knew that’s what he would say. Nash’s robotic side has kicked in like it always does when it comes to hockey training and recovering from his surgery. The doctors have given him a set of exercises to help him recover now that he’s allowed to ditch the crutches and he’s diligent about them. I frown and flop back onto the bed, pulling the sheets with me. “Fine. I’ll make potato salad instead of giving you an orgasm.”
He laughs at me. “Easy on the mayo, Garrison. I’ve got to stay in shape this off-season in order to get through this injury.”
“Extra mayo. Got it.”
He shakes his head and grabs his shoes as he heads out of the bedroom. I lay there in bliss listening to the waves. Then I text Liv to come over and I make two potato salads for the cookout—one with a healthy amount of mayo and one with a mix of light mayo and Dijon instead. It actually tastes pretty good so Nash will like it, but I’ll still tease him about his bland life choices.
"Do you have a strainer for the pasta?" Liv asks as she turns off the gas burner. She's making a pasta salad.
"Umm... I'm sure he does… somewhere?" I start to open drawers and cupboards. "I'll be honest, we aren't doing a lot of cooking. Nash has a meal service here, or we go out, or we order, or we just skip a meal and get naked."
“Oh my god. Stop,” Liv laughs.
I smile and pull open a drawer at the bottom of the rustic island near the dishwasher. There’s a colander. I yank it out. Why is there a legal envelope in it? From… Sullivan Law…
“Success!” Liv says, lifting the pot.
I put the colander in the sink and she walks over and carefully strains the pasta. I stare at the envelope like I’m in a trance. I know in my heart that these are my divorce papers. Our divorce papers. This is the end of my fake marriage and I’m not the least bit happy about it.
“What’s that?”
I turn the envelope to Liv and she squints as she reads. “Is that… the law firm working on your divorce?”
I nod. It’s hard to swallow suddenly. Liv’s brow furrows and she abandons the pasta in the colander, steam curling up from it and kissing the window that looks out over the backyard. She walks over to me, her eyes on the envelope. “You’re okay, right? I mean, you knew you were getting divorced.”
I nod, feeling so stupid for the tears that are starting to form. “Yeah. Of course. It’s just… well it feels counterintuitive to end a marriage with a man I’m…” I swallow and smile, “madly in love with.”
The grin on Liv’s full mouth is part happiness and part shit-eating because she’s always been the one who believes in romance and fairy tale love and prince charmings. It’s never been me. I’ve sworn it would never be me. I frown at her. “Gloating gives you wrinkles.”
She laughs but pulls me in for a hug and I let her, fixing my chin on her shoulder as she squeezes me. “You can always tell him you don’t want a divorce.”
“I can’t stay married,” I exclaim but there’s no conviction in my voice. “It would be absurd. I’m not even twenty-five. I didn’t even like him when I married him. He hated me. I don’t even remember doing it for godssake!”
“All valid points but do you want to be married to Nash?” Liv asks me.
"Yes," I confess but follow it up quickly with an explanation. "But it doesn't feel right like this. And I mean I don't know how to fix it, you know? So divorce it is, I guess. I just don't know why he hasn't signed these yet. Or give them to me to sign."
"Maybe just waiting until after the holiday," Liv says as she lets go of me and heads back over to finish the pasta salad.
We go continue prepping the food and when the colander is clean and dry I stick it back in its spot and put the papers back inside. Crew and Nash come back from the gym and his parents and some of their friends come over a few hours after that. We have a great day swimming in the ocean, playing volleyball on the small beach, and eating everything in sight.
Once everyone leaves, after the fireworks, Nash pulls me onto his lap in an Adirondack chair by the fire pit instead of letting me go inside and clean up. I don't complain. I'll never complain about being in his arms, but after finding those papers it feels extra important to enjoy his affection. I know it won't change once we're divorced and just dating. But I feel like it will feel different.
“I love having you here,” Nash murmurs, gently moving my hair off my shoulder so he can rest his chin there as one of his hands slides across my waist to hug me to him.
The papers in the colander run through my brain again as I look up at the stars and listen to the waves lap the beach, which has disappeared from view in the inky night. “I’ll always come and visit if you want me to.”
