That hits all of me. Hard. I think of the day I found out our money was stolen and my mom had a tumor. The sky was clear blue. It didn’t seem possible that bad things happen on days with good weather.Life doesn’t last forever,Mom said that day, and I feel those words on this beach.
The impermanence of life’s good days. How one second there’s one truth and the next turns that truth to a lie.
We’re fine then we’re broke.
We’re healthy then there’s a brain tumor.
It changes, and every minute not spent doing and saying and being with the exact people we should be with is a minute lost that will never be found again.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Sunny continues, “you sure as hell dug you some kinda pit to sit in.” She purses her lips to emphasize how disapproving of mypitshe is. “But if there was one man on earth other than James I’d trust to reach a hand down and drag my big Black ass out of it—” She points a finger down the beach. “It’s that one.”
Nash carries one of the kids under his arm like a football, and the simple act makes heart press against bone. Any doubt I have regarding what he would be like with Bennie vanishes. It’s evident he loves these boys who don’t belong to him; he’d be wrapped around her finger.
“He likes kids.”
“Likes ’em?” She scoffs. “Man loves ’em. How you think I’m able to keep all them jobs?” Her brows are sky high. “He watches ’em for me the nights I work—no charge. Damn unicorn, like I told ya.”
He watches her kids.
Every missing piece of him falls into place. His late-night absences, the kid’s voice in the background. He was watching Sunny’s kids so she could work, and it takes my breath away. Like everything else I’ve learned about him, it makes me see him anew. He’s who he was and so much more. He will love Bennie. Even if he isn’t there all the time—even if he and I can’t make it work after I tell him—he’ll be there for her.
And I can’t not spend another second without being able to touch him.
I grab my phone and stand, watching him and the boys and Cap, all of them laughing in the distance. This isn’t the way I wanted to do this, but I can’t wait. I won’t give another second away with Nash that I’ll never get back.
When Jonathan’s familiar voicemail picks up, I say everything I haven’t.
“Jonathan, hey. I’m so sorry—I know the timing isn’t right and I’m doing this on your voicemail, but I ... I can’t do this. We can’t get married. It’s not you—not really. It’s us. It’s Nash.” I pause to watch him pay for the ice creams, the boys beaming around him. “He’s here. He’s, I don’t know, surprising me and driving me insane and—” I’m not making any sense. “I’m sorry. Really.” Nash is walking toward me now, licking his dessert without a care in the world. “You’re great. Better than great, really. I just—I’ll call you when I get back.” I pause for any second thoughts to find me; they don’t. “I’m really sorry.”
When I end the call, my eyes meet Sunny’s, and she pops a shoulder. “’Bout damn time your skinny white ass done did somethin’ right.”
I want to run to Nash, but I don’t—running is something Remy would do, and I refuse to stoop to her ridiculous level of romantic antics. I walk—speedwalk—homed in on him as my feet fight the soft sand with every step.
I want to kiss him—right here on this beach in front of all these people.
“Got you something, kiddo,” Cap says, stopping me before I pass him. He hands me a wrapped treat. “Ice cream sandwich.”
My focus on Nash breaks long enough for me to look at my dad.
“Okay ...” I blink at him, confused.
“You said your dad never surprised you with one,” he explains. “I don’t know much about car loans, but I love ice cream.” He gestures with the ice cream sandwich in his hands. “Thought you might too.”
And just like that, I forget about Nash and look at the cheap dessert in my hands like it’s the pile of Anson Burns gold. It ties knots in my throat. My feelings for Nash are one thing, but the appreciation I have toward this man who never wanted me to begin with takes me by complete surprise.
I hug him and he grunts. He doesn’t return it, he just stands there, holding his cane and his ice cream.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, pulling away.
“Least I could do.” He takes a bite, some of the ice cream and chocolate clinging to the wild hairs of his beard.
I’ll never forget this. My dad, buying me an ice cream sandwich in the middle of the afternoon for no reason.
At the emotion written all over my face, he grumbles, “Only cost a dollar. Nash paid.”
He limps away, leaving me smiling at his retreating back as he does.
Nash steps in front of me, swirling his tongue all over his ice cream like the overgrown child he is. “I was thinking,” he says. “We?—”
