I relent. “Fine.”
Leaving Cap on the bench, Nash and I stroll along a gravel path lush with flora, quiet until he breaks the silence. “I’d call this romantic.”
I look at him sideways, swatting a mosquito on my neck. “Romantic?”
“The style of garden.” He gestures to the shrubs and trees covered in blooms around us. “It’s called romantic.”
“They didn’t take these bloodsucking bastards into consideration when they named it.” But even with the bugs, it’s enchanting. It’s cultivated and maintained, but there’s a chaos to it as well. Like every plant was planned and planted by someone who just finished off a bottle of rosé, adding an element of tipsy whimsy. “Reminds me of Mom.”
Nash hums in agreement as my phone rings,Momon the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” he says with a grin. “Let me answer.”
Before I can argue, he takes my phone and pushes the button, answering on speaker as we wander. “It’s my favorite mother-in-law,” he says, winking at my glare.
She gasps, delighted, but there’s a small pause too. A flicker of hesitation I never would have noticed before. “Hey, stranger,” is what she says.
“Stranger?” Nash smiles at me and the phone. “Eight years and that’s all I get?”
“Don’t be silly,” she says. My heart goes heavy; she’s buying time. Maybe squinting at the ceiling or snapping her fingers. I’ve seen it so many times and rolled my eyes or got frustrated. Only this time, it brings dread and worry that makes the world spin a little slower.
“Mom.” I try to keep my voice light. “It’s me. I’m here with Nash.”
“I know you’re with Nash,” she snips, recovering beautifully with, “I’d recognize his charming voice anywhere.”
Nash chuckles, but when he looks at me, his smile slips. The secret I haven’t told him fills every fleck of gold and green in his brown eyes as he stills beside me. I have the incredible urge to cry.
Once again, now isn’t the time—it never is. I stop walking to stare at a large yellow bloom and count every petal, telling myself I live in a world securely glued together. Telling myself I will find the gold, and this is a blip. She will be fine.
I brave a look at Nash, my silent plea for him not to pry.
“Well, Iris,” he says, playful as ever as we resume walking, “it seems you and I have a lot to discuss regarding how the mail works. I hear you’ve been making things difficult on me.”
She laughs at this, loud and like a sweet song. “Don’t you listen to a word Rue says unless it’s about Bee.”
“Bee?” he repeats, brows pinching. “Is that?—”
I snatch the phone from his hands.
“Mother,” I say, taking it off speaker as we turn onto a path of natural vegetation mixed in with magnolia trees. “Are you calling for a reason?”
“Just checking in,” she says easily.
The path turns into a shrubbery maze, and Nash swats mosquitoes off my arms. I give him an appreciative smile.
Mom continues. “And making sure you’re keeping up your end of the bargain.”
I look at Nash, switching the phone to the opposite ear. He’s concerned about her while she’s talking about his child he doesn’t know exists. It makes me want to cry for a whole different reason.
“Nash is good,” I tell her. “He’s—” His eyebrows raise. “More annoying than he used to be. Still hasn’t grown up and thinks life’s a joke. Hasn’t aged well, really. Like a Beanie Baby we were promised would be worth a small fortune by now.” He laughs at this. “Shame on you for not sending the papers.”
“Ah. You haven’t told him. Guess I’ll tell Reese to cancel the surgery.”
Damn her.
Her tumor isn’t remotely funny, but if this is the game she’s playing, I’m not backing down. “You’re right, we should move it up.”
“I don’t want the surgery anyway,” she chirps in my ear. “What do I care if you spend your life miserable?”
