“Asshole,” I laugh. “It’s just—I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Raymond clears his throat. “Trust me, Asher. If we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”
Oof. That truth is like a punch to the gut.
“Don’t you want someone to share your life with?” he asks.
“Yes?” It comes out like a question. “I don’t want to end up a lonely old man, but what if something bad happens? It hurts too much to think about losing another person.” My voice cracks at the admission. “How could I survive that again?”
“We don’t have any guarantees in life,” Raymond reminds me. “But you can’t let the what-ifs stop you from living.”
Head dropping back,I groan. “Fuck. I don’t know what to do.”
“Sure you do.” Zion gives me a sympathetic smile. “It’s just hard to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Ask her to stay.”
29
Claire
Pickingup Bea was a piece of cake. Rachel offered up the guest room so I wouldn’t have to drive back, but I’d had more than enough coffee on the ride over to keep me awake a few more hours. Plus, Asher was worried about Bea and would be disappointed if we didn’t come home.
Bea chatted nonstop for twenty solid minutes before she passed out in the back seat. When I pulled up to the cabin, the guys were gone and Asher was waiting on the porch to greet his daughter.
The poor thing didn’t wake up as he carried her inside and tucked her into his bed.
When she woke up this morning, her three pseudo uncles spoiled her. They worshipped her and acted like they’d received diamond-encrusted bracelets from Taylor Swift when she gifted them plastic friendship bracelets with “Dolly” strung on them. Everyone got one, including me.
Asher nearly pulls out of the guys’ plans to take the boat out now that Bea has returned, but she learned it’s Make Your OwnSlime Day at the childcare facility and is more than elated about attending.
The guys invite me on their excursion, but I politely turn them down, not wanting to cut their trip short if I’m called into the clinic.
After completing mundane administrative tasks and treating a family for poison ivy, I pop over to the gym for a vinyasa yoga class. Lacey, the instructor, is a gem. If I had to guess, I’d pin her close to my age, but the wisdom and aura she exudes are ageless. I always leave feeling relaxed yet invigorated, so with any luck, today’s session will serve me a heaping pile of mental clarity.
She ends class with a fantastic guided meditation about not being afraid of what the future might hold. About leaning into unpredictability. It hits me straight in the solar plexus. Because truth be told, I’ve been avoiding the inevitable: what comes after this summer. I’ve always prided myself on having a plan, being prepared. But this summer is unlike anything I’ve imagined for myself.
And why has it felt so perfect?
Lacey turns the lights back on, and as people trickle out of class, I realize Kendra and Todd were in attendance too. Ugh, Kendra. The first time I saw her lean a little too closely into Asher, I nonchalantly asked him about it. According to him, she and her husband have been coming every summer for years with their children. When I asked if the way she behaved that day was typical of her, he admitted it was but assured me she’s never crossed a line. He seemed rather annoyed by her flirtatious behavior, so I dropped it, though I secretly envision throwing her over the dock every time I catch her gaze lingering on his ass a little too long.
That bum belongs to me, lady!
I’m still lounging on my mat, in no rush to leave this little oasis, when Todd’s deep tone rumbles through the room. Still onmy back, I crane my neck, finding Lacey poised on a step stool, organizing yoga blocks on the shelf in the narrow closet.
Hovering in the doorway, he says, “You’re much better than the yoga instructor who worked here last year.”
“Oh?” She peers over her shoulder, though she’s more concerned about her work than him.
“Yes. Yoga instructors shouldn’t be overweight.”
My skin prickles and I sit ramrod straight. What the hell? And why is he blocking the closet door like that?
“She didn’t have a perfect body like yours, sweetheart. And she wasn’t nearly as flexible,” he says, his tone slimy.
Shit.
