You.
Say it.
Tell him.
Right the hell now, Rue.
“A fling.” Another lie on top of the millions. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Eight years away from each other is a long time, you know. I just—” At the look in his eyes, I nearly double over. I need to say something real—something honest—or the guilt of this alone will eat me alive. “I don’t know how to be around you yet, Nash. Does it feel like that for you? Like you constantly think of two things you want to say every time you open your mouth?”
Silent and looking anywhere but at me, I can’t read what he’s thinking. If he gets it. If he hates me. If knowing that I’ve lived a whole life separate from him gnaws at his chest the way it does to mine. If when he thinks of me with Jonathan it stings like a bitch-slap the way it does when I think of him and Emma.
Slowly, he walks away, and I drop my face into my hands. I might cry again. Nash is done, and I can’t even blame him.
I’m a liar, but I need him.
He left me, but I need him.
“You coming?” he calls over his shoulder.
I look at him, the slightest of smirks tugging his lips.
“Yeah?”
“These joints won’t case themselves, Rue Conway.”
I don’t hide my smile as I jog the few steps to catch up to him.
At the perimeter of the fence and without looking at me, he says, “Tell me about your kid.”
I hesitate.
Then I do.
Every wonderful little detail except who she really is.
Twenty-Four
It’s ironic to be broke while lounging poolside, but here we are.
“Always wanted a house with a pool,” Cap says from the lawn chair next to me as he sucks on Penny.
Frank nudges my thigh with his nose until I knuckle the spot between his ears. “You don’t strike me as a house and pool type.”
Nash left for a few hours at the office and insisted we stay at his house.“Make yourselves at home,”he said as he left.
I was reluctant—especially after everything that happened this morning—but without admitting I have nowhere else to go except his shed, Cap’s boat, or aimlessly driving around—which costs gas money—I relented.
“Probably right,” Cap says with a chuckle. “You gonna tell me what happened?”
“To?”
“You and him.”
A long breath leaks out of me, and Cap makes an amused sound that bleeds into a cough. “Let your old dad help, kiddo.”
“You’ve been my dad for three days,” I say without heat. “Not sure you can help.”
“Eh. Try me.”
