by Lili Valente
Oh wow. His hands are trouble. Especially the one cupping my breast through my tee shirt. I’ve only gone to second base with one guy and that certainly didn’t happen in broad daylight by the side of the road.
I need to rein in my crazy before I cause a scandal. If any of my mother’s friends see me like this, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Wait!” I shout against his lips, making him flinch and step back.
Taking advantage of the space between us, I scoot around him and head for the bug. “Sorry. I have to go,” I say, ridiculously flustered. I feel like an idiot—running from a kiss like it’s a poisonous snake—but I don’t know what else to do.
This isn’t like me. Nick was right. I’m a do-gooder. And when it comes to rounding the sex bases, I’m an excellent in-fielder. I don’t make the first move, I don’t kiss strange boys in public, and I don’t take boob touching lightly. Boob touching is a big deal for me, unlike for guys like Nick who probably touch a new boob every other night.
Also, I hate the word “boob” and need to stop using it, even in my brain, immediately.
“Gotta get to work,” I say with a thumbs-up so dorky I want to cringe, but I don’t. I reach for the door, fumbling with the handle while Nick watches me, a crooked smile on his face. “See you up there?”
“See you up there,” he says, “and Melody?”
“Yes?” I say, my face so hot it feels like it’s about to catch fire.
“No hard feelings, okay?” A dimple pops in his cheek. “I like do-gooders.”
Sure, you do, I think. That’s why he’s looking at me like a cute little kid, instead of a girl he wants to keep making out with. He might like do-gooders, but they don’t make his blood rush, don’t make him want to kiss like it’s the end of the world and there are only a few minutes left before the asteroid hits.
I’ve never kissed anyone the way I just kissed Nick. I honestly hadn’t thought I would want to.
Sweet, loving, romantic kisses have been my thing for as long as I’ve been kissing.
But now…
That’s what really scares me. Not that I was acting out of character, but the fact that I liked it so much.
So. Very. Much.
Chapter Twenty-One
Aria
Two days later…
I should have known the bomb was going to drop at some point.
The past nine days with Nash have been heaven. It almost makes sense that I find myself in hell Sunday evening.
After all, there is no light without darkness, no rose without thorns, and apparently, no marriage without an in-law determined to make their son or daughter’s new spouse suffer.
From the moment Nash and I step into the elder Gearys’ home Sunday afternoon, Joy Geary makes her disapproval of this match abundantly clear. To me, at least. Nash seems determined to ignore his mother’s cool reception. When I pull him aside to voice my fears that his mom hates me like ass rabies, he laughs me off, saying his mom’s been sick and is probably still under the weather and making a joke about not knowing you could get rabies only in the ass.
“Besides, she wouldn’t hate you like any kind of rabies,” he adds, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Mom doesn’t have strong feelings about rabies one way or another.”
“Everyone hates rabies,” I insist.
“But everyone in my family is going to love you.”
“If you say so,” I mumble, moving into Nash’s arms and resting my cheek on his chest. But not even a full-strength Nash hug—which is quickly becoming one of my favorite things in the world—can banish my anxiety.
All through dinner, I swear I catch Joy glaring at me out of the corners of my eyes, only to turn my head and find her watery green gaze fixed politely on Nash or his sisters.
After dinner, I excuse myself and head out to the backyard with the other moms to watch the kids play. Felicity is younger than the Geary grandchildren and the two kids still living at home, but I’m sure she’ll find someone to play with. If not, I’ll crawl around in the grass with her myself. Anything to escape the tension in the house.
“Has the tribe driven you crazy yet?” Raleigh stands beside me on the grass, watching as her two sons run toward the trampoline at the rear of the large yard.
I smile. “Nope. I love the tribe.”
And I do. Nash’s brothers and sisters and their broods all seem to be sweet, fun-loving people. Even Nash’s little brother, Nick, who—according to the gossip I heard from Natalie—had a bad attitude when he first showed up for work this past week, has gone out of his way to be welcoming tonight.
It’s only Joy who has me on pins and needles.
Joy. If Nash’s grandmother had known what a sour face her daughter would have as an older woman, she might have reconsidered her choice of baby names.
“Well, you don’t have to, you know,” Raleigh says, surprising me.
I look over to find her watching me with a shrewd, but kind, expression.
“It’s you and Nash that matter,” she continues. “I like you, and if you enjoy the craziness that comes along with a family the size of ours, then that’s awesome. But if you don’t…that’s fine, too.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” I say carefully, glancing back to check on Felicity, who is still crawling around by the swing set, pulling up handfuls of grass and throwing it into the air.
“I’ve never seen my brother this happy,” Raleigh says, sending a surge of warmth rushing through my chest. “You’re good for him, and he seems to be good for you, and that’s all that matters. You didn’t marry our family, you married him, you know?”
“Thanks. I appreciate that, but you guys are lovely.”
“Not always,” Raleigh grumbles.
Her tone sets off alarm bells, but before I can figure out a way to discreetly ask if there’s something I should be worried about, or at the very least prepared for, Raleigh’s youngest son falls off the trampoline, sending her running to kiss the bruises.
Afterwards, I can’t find an easy way back into that conversation, so I do my best to forget my misgivings and enjoy the evening.
It isn’t until an hour later, when I emerge from the bathroom and run straight into Joy that I wonder if Raleigh was trying to subtly warn me of an impending ambush.
“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thank you so much for the invitation tonight, Joy. Dinner was amazing.”
She nods, but doesn’t smile, or move out of the middle of the hall to let me by. “Thank you,” she says, her voice a dusty pillow dropped on the floor. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“And Felicity loved it, too. I’ve never seen her eat that much pasta.”
“She’s a sweet little girl,” Joy says in a tone that would have been more fitting to announcing Felicity has been diagnosed with some tragic disease. “I’ve got nothing against that child, I want you to know that.”
“Okay,” I say, a horrible sinking feeling dragging at my stomach. Still, I dare to hope I’ll emerge from this interaction unscathed until she says—
“But using Nash to fix what’s wrong with your life isn’t right.”
Her words connect like poisonous darts, making me flinch.
“I know you’re in a custody battle with the baby’s father,” she continues, “and you’re struggling as a single mom, but that’s not my son’s problem.”
I swallow, resisting the urge to cry or to tell Joy where she can stick her opinion. This is Nash’s mother, and we both love Nash. Surely, we can find a way to be civil if we can’t be friends.
“I’m not using, Nash,” I begin in a controlled voice, but Joy jumps in before I can finish.
“I heard he paid for your lawyer.”
I nod. “He did, but—”
“And you’re living in his house, and he’s paying for everything for a child who isn’t his.” She sighs, shaking her head as if this is the worst thing that could possibly happen to her son. “He deserves better.”
“That
’s a hurtful thing to say.” My throat feels like it’s closing up, but I take a breath and keep going. “I love Nash, and I’m going to do everything I can to make him happy.”
“Until it gets too hard, or a better offer comes along.” Joy’s lips press tightly together. “I remember you, Aria. I remember the way you and your daddy looked at my boy like he was trash back when you were kids.”
“My dad was out of line, but I never looked at Nash like that,” I say, tears welling in my eyes. “And I love your son. If you love him as much as you say you do, then I think we should try to get along.” I sniff, doing my best to regain control, not wanting to break down in front of someone who clearly loathes me. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Felicity.”
I step forward, brushing past Joy, exhaling in relief when she doesn’t attempt to stop me or continue the conversation.
But on my way through the kitchen to the back door, I catch a glimpse of a tall shadow standing in the doorway. I glance over, locking eyes with Nash’s younger brother, Nick. The guilty expression on his face makes it clear he heard every word of my conversation with his mom, but I don’t care.
I’ll repeat myself in front of the entire family if I have to. I don’t care what they think. I know I’m good for Nash, and that I make him happy. The love I feel for him is real, the kind that will hold up through all the hard times, both mine and his.
Yes, I’m leaning on him now, but when he needs to lean on me, I’ll be there with bells on.
Still, it’s no fun to hear someone say they think you’re a loser and a user. I keep a brave face on until we leave the Gearys’, but by the time we get home and put Felicity to bed, I’m feeling more down than I have in a long time.
“What’s wrong?” Nash settles into the chair across from mine at the kitchen table, under the watchful eyes of his mechanical animals and the portrait of Felicity I painted last week during her naptime.
I hadn’t wanted to display it—it turned out better than I thought it would, but I know I can do a better one with practice—but Nash loved it so much I let him pound a nail and hang it up.
I study the painting now, remembering the way he smiled at me when he first saw it, how proud he’d been, how amazing, and loved, that pride had made me feel.
The memory gives me the courage to ask, “You don’t think I’m using you, do you?”
“No.” He scowls as he reaches for my hand, warming my cold fingers between his palms. “Why would you say that? Why would you even think it?”
I shrug, staring at our joined hands, not ready to meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t make much money, and babies are so expensive and the lawyer’s retainer was so much more than I thought it would be.”
“I don’t care. It’s just money.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m doing well, Red. You don’t have to work at all if you don’t want to.”
I wince, his words hurting for some reason. “I do. I want to work. I don’t need someone to take care of me, Nash. I can take care of myself. That’s not what this is about.”
“Well, I do need someone like that,” he says, gripping my fingers tight when I try to pull away. “I need you to take care of me, and you’re doing a damned fine job of it. I have never been this happy, Aria. I’m just trying to return the favor.”
My lips tremble and my throat goes tight. “Are you sure? You don’t feel like you’re stuck with me, or trapped or—”
“Baby, what’s wrong?” He reaches across the table, taking my face in his big hands with a tenderness that makes me want to cry even more. “Why are you stressing about this all of a sudden?”
I start to tell him the truth, but stop myself at the last moment.
Nash loves his mother. Most boys love their mothers, but Nash really loves Joy. She’s a hero to him, the way she carried their family through all those hard times, sometimes all on her own when his dad had to leave town for work. I don’t want to be the one to pull her off that pedestal.
And a tiny part of me is afraid that he might not believe me, that he’ll brush me off the way he did earlier tonight, refusing to see anything but the best in his mom. And I’m not sure I can handle that. Right now, it feels like Nash is completely on my side, and I don’t want to do anything to drive a wedge between us, so I lie.
“I heard some women talking at the wedding the other day,” I say. “One of their sons was marrying a single mom and they weren’t happy about it.”
“Well, I couldn’t be happier.” He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed. I’ll run you a bath and you can soak the sad out.”
“That sounds nice.” I force a smile, determined to put the miserable parts of the night behind me.
“And how about a back rub after?” he asks. “I’ve been wanting to show off my masseuse skills. I heard someone was on their feet all weekend cooking things containing sugar and could probably use a rub down.”
“Oh, I can always use a rub down,” I say, with a smile that isn’t the least bit forced. “Especially when you’re the one doing the rubbing.”
With a soft laugh, Nash takes my hand and leads me to our bedroom, and I promise myself that we’re done with this. I’m not going to let Joy negatively impact even one night of my marriage. I waited too long for a love like what Nash and I have to waste a single moment of it.
Happiness is too precious to waste, especially when I know all too well how quickly trouble can rear its ugly head.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nash
I’m up and out of the house for my Monday morning run by five fifteen, slipping silently out of bed without waking Aria and changing into my running clothes in the front bathroom.
Something about last night is still bugging me, and running is my best shot at sorting it out. I always do my best thinking about mile three.
Today, however, I plod through mile three and am well into mile four before the gears start to turn. And then my head insists on mulling over what’s on deck at work, skimming over the preliminary details of several cases I need to research before my ten o’clock staff meeting.
My brain has nothing to offer on the topic of my wife, or what happened to make her start doubting our relationship in such a serious way.
Her breakdown coincided with the visit to Mom and Dad’s, but, as far as I could tell, her first family dinner went off without a hitch. Raleigh and Mom avoided their usual clash of wills, and Nick and Dad didn’t start fighting about Nick’s state of only part-time employment—a small miracle considering Dad thinks anyone over the age of eighteen who isn’t working a full-time job is shirking their duty to society and probably a criminal of some sort.
Aria and my brothers and sisters got along great, and the nieces and nephews were sweet with Felicity, taking time out from their rough, big kid games to play ball with the baby.
I honestly can’t imagine what could have set Aria off.
Surely the fact that Mom is quiet around strangers wasn’t enough to sow seeds of doubt.
But Aria did make that rabies comment…
Maybe I just need to reassure her that Mom is always reserved with new people, and that it’s absolutely nothing personal.
I decide to do that as soon as I get home and finish the rest of my run in relative mental silence, tracking my way back down the gravel road to the chat dump and into my subdivision as the sun crests the horizon.
I arrive just in time to see Bob March charging up the steps to my house with a fat manila folder in his hand.
“Shit,” I curse. Quality time with Bob March is the last thing I need first thing in the morning. This is going to throw off my work out for the third time in the past week. Living with Aria and Felicity is proving great for the soul, but not so great for my fitness routine.
I slow to a jog, catching my breath in preparation for greeting my jackass of a father-in-law—who absolutely hates me like ass rabies, no doubt about it—when the door opens and Aria’s hand appears. A second later,
she’s pulled her father inside and shut the door.
Huh.
Weird.
He hadn’t even knocked yet. It was like she was expecting him.
My jog becomes a walk.
Why would Aria ask her father to come over at six fifteen in the morning?
Better question, why hadn’t she told me Bob was coming over?
Unless…
I would usually still be on my run right now, if I hadn’t left early.
“Nope, don’t do it,” I say aloud, not wanting to start down this path. I trust Aria. She’s done nothing to earn a sharp eye from my suspicious side.
Until now.
The voice in my head is one part cop instinct, one part leftover hurt from the way things ended with Rachael. The cop part smells something fishy and wants to investigate; the hurt part doesn’t want to end up playing the fool again, this time with a woman I love so much I’m not sure I would survive her betrayal.
The two parts together are too strong to resist.
Instead of heading in through the front door, I circle around the garage into the backyard, thankful Aria and I decided to wait a few months before getting a dog for Felicity. There’s no animal barking, alerting people in the house to my presence.
Alerting your wife to your presence. Your wife, who you’re spying on like she’s a criminal all because she what? She wants to talk to her dad without you around, listening in?
It’s the decent part of my gut speaking up now, and it’s almost enough to make me turn around and head back to the front door. It would have been, I think, if Aria’s voice hadn’t drifted through the open kitchen window a beat later.
“You’re kidding, Daddy,” she says with obvious relief. “Oh, thank God. I take back what I said. You can call me at six o’clock in the morning anytime. I can’t believe this. It’s a miracle.”
Aria hadn’t known Bob was coming over.
The realization makes me feel better and worse. Better because she didn’t plan this, worse because I’m still here crouched by the house spying like a psycho.