“Lots of people can be good for you,” Reese says. “And, not that I know anything about marriage or relationships because somebody has to work around here, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the only reason you marry someone.”
“But I know what to expect from him. I know that—that he’ll just be there. He’ll be there.”
“How do you know Nash won’t? Have you even asked?”
“I’m scared he’ll say no,” I admit. “And he wasn’t before.”
There’s a collective groan.
“You never gave him a chance before,” Reese argues. “And even if he does say no now—even if Nash wants nothing to do with Bennie, you know that doesn’t mean you still have to marry Jonathan, right? The fact you’re even debating this so close to the wedding makes me think you know. If Nashsigned the divorce papers today, would you really want to marry Jonathan?”
I bite my finger; she’s right. My doubts regarding Jonathan aren’t entirely about Nash. Jonathan is so steady and levelheaded that I couldn’t even convince him to come with me. I don’t want my life to be filled with unknowns, but I don’t want one with zero room for spontaneity either. Just days around Nash have been the unexpected catalyst to bring all that I’m missing into focus.
“How was the finger suck?” Remy asks. “Sounds hot.”
I spread the blinds to get a clearer view of the pool. “Annoyingly so.”
Frank’s ears perk and his attention turns toward the shed, making my paranoid heart pitter-patter. Nash dips under the water then pushes himself off the wall and emerges halfway down the pool with long strokes.
“What are you doing today?” Mom asks.
“We’re supposed to go to the beach with Cap,” I explain in a quick whisper. “We have three more clues to explore.”
“Isn’t your dad a hoot?” She laughs. “One time we?—”
“Mom,” I snap. “Focus.”
Reese says, “Youfocus. You don’t need our help. You’re acting like some voyeur with your husband.”I agree!Mom calls in the background. “Look,” Reese continues. “When I’m looking at a business to invest in?—”
“This isn’t a business, Reese, this is my life. Unlike you, a heart actually pumps in my chest, generating warmth and feelings.”
She huffs. “You don’t get to be an askhole if you call us.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re asking questions and also an asshole.”
I frown; Nash swims another lap.
“Like I was saying,” she continues. “When I’m looking at a business—especially multiple businesses like you are—I want to know where I can get the biggest return on investment.”
I don’t even address the fact she’s referring to Nash and Jonathan as businesses. “You want me to base my decision on money?”
“I would,” she admits. “But, based on the books here, I can see that’s clearly not your strong suit.”
“Stay out of the books,” I snap. “And that’s terrible advice.”
“Nash sent you postcards foreight years,” Remy repeats. “I knew he was still in love with you. Iknewit.”
“For the love of God,” I groan. “Please give Remy the postcards because I’m going to stab her in her sleep if she brings them up again.”
“Rue Conway,” Mom says, exasperated. “Don’t talk to your sister like that.”
“What do you really want, Rue?” Reese asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
