Looking down at the list, I realize she’s supposed to pick her book for summer reading, and that’s when I realize this will start happening more frequently. It’s almost the last week of school, and teachers in elementary and middle school will want to talk to their students about what required reading they’ll be enjoying over the summer, to carry them into the next grade.
The high schoolers have their lists and tend to read on Kindles, or worse, just watch the movie.
But I love helping the fifth and sixth graders most. Because they’re excited about the books, and they have a little bit of freedom. They get to choose which two books they’ll read, from a list of some of my favorites.
“Hmm, well, what kind of books do you like to read?” I ask her.
I know which books on this list I’d recommend, but I never want to sway someone walking into my library. While I want young readers to branch out, I also want them to continue reading and enjoy it. Taking their favorite books into account will only further their love for them and will provide the basis to make them lifelong story feasters.
She bites her lip and looks down, one shoelace untied. “Well … I liked A Wrinkle in Time. And Tuck Everlasting. But my favorite is Harry Potter … my mom and I are reading the first book together at night.”
Hmm, so she likes fantasy. Some magic, some sci-fi … and Tuck Everlasting has some romance in there. But overall, this little lady has some great taste.
I walk around the counter and crouch to her level so that she trusts my judgment more.
“Those are all great reads. Harry Potter is one of my favorites, too. Based on your epic list of books already read, I’d go with The Giver and Chronicles of Narnia. Those are two of my favorites … you can’t go wrong with those books.”
I give her a little conspiratorial wink and write down the aisle numbers for her, and she’s off, skipping along to find her next story.
“You’re going to be a wonderful mother someday,”
a familiar voice says from behind me as I stand and watch the girl disappear between the shelves.
I turn to see my own mother, standing on the other side of the counter, smiling at me.
“Mom.” A grin splits my face as I walk into her arms for a hug.
Out of all the people in my life, my mom is my favorite. A breast cancer survivor two times over, she’s strong and resilient. My mother is the silent, supportive wife to a loud, outspoken politician, and while she may play a role in front of the cameras, she is the real head of our family. She is tough but fair, lovely and elegant, and has a way of being on your side without painting the world in rose-colored shades. When I got into fights with friends or had my heart broken or cursed a teacher for giving me a grade I felt I didn’t deserve, she would always hug me and give me a shoulder to cry on. But then we’d have an earnest conversation about the other side of the argument, and by the end of our talk, I’d see things in a different light.
My mother is the person who shaped who I am today, and I’m glad she is the female figure I get to look up to.
“If I learned anything about dealing with children, it’s from you.” I squeeze her once more before pulling back.
We’re a matched set, my mom and I. Same long dark hair, same blue eyes, same miniature stature.
“Well, whenever you’re ready, I’m here to watch them.” Her ocean-colored pools search mine.
I roll my eyes. “I think a lot of things would need to happen before children. Say, a boyfriend, perhaps.”
Chuckling, my mom walks to the cart stacked high with books I need to re-shelve. “I don’t think that’s the problem, my dear. There are a hundred men who’d fall all over themselves to land an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman like you. The thing is, you only want one.”
So that’s why she’s here. Is this the “go after him again” talk or the “you need to move on talk”? I wish I could gauge her mood, but she’s got her nose buried in the front flap of the latest romance novel that just arrived in the library.
A few minutes go by, and I move to the computer, checking on orders and emails. Mom sighs, picking up another book and closing it forcefully. She wants me to look at her.
“What is it, Mother?” Frustration itches my scalp.
“Love isn’t easy, Lily. I thought I taught you that by this point.”
“Mom, seriously? We’ve had this conversation a million times. It’s been ten years. The man does not want me.”
She tucks a lock from her signature bob haircut behind her ear. “Oh, nonsense, darling. Do you think I’d still be here if I took no for an answer? Not just with your father, but on this earth. I love that man, but your daddy has done some reprehensible things. I almost shot him when he voted against that public education bill … you might not remember it because you were little but he slept on the couch for a month. And if I’d let cancer tell me it wanted to take my whole body, well, I’d be dead. You have to fight for the things you want. Nothing is ever going to come easy.”
“I have fought, Mama. You know I have. He won’t listen or talk, so I’m out of options.”
Mom shakes her head again. “One last time. You have to try one last time. I know he dropped you off at your apartment. And someone saw you together at the carnival.”
“Seriously, people in this town have got to get lives of their own.” I blow a frustrated huff through my nose as I struggle to keep my composure.
“That might be. But … that intel leads me to believe you two are talking again. Or at least, seeing each other.”
“I don’t know, Mom.” I finally relent, not wanting to be badgered about Bowen anymore.
She lifts her hands in surrender when she’s the one who came to pick the fight. “All right, all right. I’m just saying … that looks like an opening to me.”
Her arms wrap around me once more before she walks out of my library, and I wonder if she just came in here to rile me up. Probably. Mothers didn’t exist if they weren’t stirring the pot most of the time.
I hated to admit that her little pep talk had given me a reason to act.
Then again, I’d never disobeyed an order from my parents. And this was, by all means, an order.
I was both aggravated with my mother, for interfering and using the cancer card on me. But I was also re-energized about talking to Bowen. About getting the answers I deserved.
And gosh darn if that wasn’t her plan all along.
11
Bowen
“Oh, come on, guys … can we just have a night where no one gets punched or arrested,”
Keaton whines as Gerry sets two shot glasses down in front of Forrest and me. It’s our second round of Johnny Walker, and if my rich little brother was buying, I wasn’t saying no.
I’d had a hell of a week, what with the increased nightmares, two fire calls I’d been present for, and the whopping quarterly taxes on the shop I’d had to pay … fuck yes I was ready for some stupid decisions.
“Who says this is going to get out of hand?” Forrest snickers as he sputters from the poison sliding down his throat.
Because when my brothers and I got together, trouble always followed. There were four of us; big, egotistical males all cocky and daring in our own ways … there was bound to be shenanigans.
Obviously, Fletcher wasn’t with us tonight. He’d bowed out of nights at the Goat & Barrister since getting out of rehab, which was a decision I respected and was happy he made on his own. He seemed to be making good choices these days, and I hoped he stayed on this path.
“Come on, big bro, drink up.” Forrest sets a shot each in front of us.
“Ah, what the hell.” Keaton shrugs, slamming it back.
“That’s a change of attitude if I ever saw one.” I cough as the alcohol burns my nostrils.
“Presley is on her way over, and she wanted us to have a ‘fun, drunk night’ as she puts it. Says we’re getting too boring and married. Have to keep my woman happy.”
Forrest laughs. “While t
hat makes me want to cringe, I think it’s hilarious she called you boring. Maybe she really does see the real you.”
“You invited the girls?” The annoyance in my tone is not hidden.
Or lost on them. Keaton rolls his eyes. “Lighten up, Bowen. They’re all in the wedding party, and she’s my fiancée. There are plenty of other people in this bar, you don’t have to talk to Lily if you don’t want to.”
The door at the front of the bar creaks with an arrival, and speak of the devil, Presley, Lily, and Penelope all walk in.
And Christ, if she doesn’t look fucking hot.
Lily never knows how truly seductive she is, and that’s part of the appeal. In tight jean shorts that fray at the edges, a pretty blue tank dotted with flowers, and those summer wedge sandals that make a woman’s legs look impossibly long … fuck I want to do so many inappropriate things to her.
My dick begins to harden in my jeans because the alcohol is loosening my inhibitions and damn it if that long, curling brown hair wouldn’t look perfect tangled in my fingers.
Shut up, cock. I can’t let myself anywhere near her, or I’ll definitely do something stupid tonight.
“Ladies,” Forrest greets them, his eyes lingering too long on Penelope.
Presley saunters over to Keaton, kissing him noisily. Lily stands off to the side, waves at my brothers, and then walks off farther down the bar to ask Gerry for a drink.
“Dream on, little Nash.” Penelope flicks her long blond mane over her shoulder, and her very generous breasts shift in her white sundress.
Forrest places an elbow on the bar. “Let me buy you a drink and we can talk about those dreams I have.”
I snort because the pickup line is terrible. My little brother has always had a hard-on for Penelope, ever since he saw her in a bikini at the local pool when he was twelve.
Of course, she was eighteen and completely in love with Travis. Honestly, even now that he’s gone, Forrest stands no chance. Penelope would chew him up and spit him out.
“You’re so obnoxious.” She rolls her eyes. “But I’ll take a white wine spritzer.”
Or, maybe he does stand a chance. Crazier things have happened.
With those two bickering on one side and Keaton and Presley practically humping each other on the other side of me, I glance around for something else to do.
The dart board is empty, and no one is picking a song at the jukebox right now. But, because she’s in the room, my eyes only ever stray to her. Like magnets, we’re always locked in to each other’s energy.
Before I can tell myself what a bad idea this is, I’m walking over to Lily. So much for staying away from her. I’m going to blame the alcohol and ignore the voice telling me I’ve been waiting for a moment like this for years.
For a moment where I can scapegoat my low inhibitions just to get close to her.
A small smile splits my lips as I scoot onto the stool next to hers. “Always nursing that one lone gin and tonic.”
Lily blinks as she looks up and sees me, her cheeks pinking up. “It’s my drink of choice. Tried wine for a while, but it gave me a headache. Then I tried vodka, and after just one ended up …”
She shudders and I know that’s the liquor that had her puking. Everyone has that one liquor. Mine is bourbon. I shudder even thinking that right now.
“But, when I tried this at one of the galas my father was speaking at, I liked it. It’s what I’ve stuck, too. I’m not much for change, the regular old tried and true is good for me.”
“I remember.” I chuckle, the damn beer and whiskey doing the talking. “I like that about you.”
She looks stunned, and those big blue eyes flick to my mouth. God, how I wish I could lean over and kiss her. Or better yet …
“What are you drinking?” She points to my glass, her fingernail a pale pink.
And wasn’t that just a damn tease. Because now I was imagining a whole fist of pink nails wrapped around my cock. That was just so Lily. A tiger wrapped in a lamb’s disguise. I knew what she sounded like when she came. I was the first man who’d ever touched her, who’d ever shown her how to wrap her fist around …
“Bowen?” The way she says my name, I know I’ve been sitting here staring at her like a damn fool.
Fuck, I needed to get it together. “It’s uh, whiskey. But, there has been a hell of a lot of things mixed in there tonight.”
She chuckles. “Big guy’s night out, huh?”
“Something like that.” I smile back.
We stare at each other for a minute, and I can feel both of our heads moving closer. Almost unconsciously, as if there is a string tethering our mouths together.
“Are you having fun?” She breathes.
“More now than I was before.” It’s the truth.
Lily’s eyes dilate. “Why is that?”
“I think you know why.”
How easy it is to fall back into this. A decade has passed without a word. And now … we’ve been sliding slowly down this hill of attraction since my brother’s engagement. It’s slippery and dangerous, and I’m always grappling to climb my way back up. But sitting here with her, the woman I love most in the world, it’s too good to stop. I may break when I eventually hit the ground, but if it means staring at her, speaking words I’ve kept locked up in my heart for ten years, then so be it.
“Maybe …” Lily sighs, breaking the moment. “Listen, we’re going to be around each other a lot more now. With Presley and Keaton getting married, there will be more nights than there were in the last ten years where we’ll probably run into each other. You clearly don’t want to talk about us … and I can’t understand that, but I do know that I can’t keep cutting myself down over it. Even if we’re not friends, maybe we can just … be cordial. I don’t hate you, Bowen. Not even a little. And you’ve said as much about me. Maybe we can …”
She is going to say, be friends. But we can’t. And she has no idea why. Here she is, trying to appeal to my softer side, trying to bridge a gap that I’ve caused. God, Lily is the best kind of person. Even when someone has repeatedly cut her down, she’ll still try to shake their hand and call it a truce.
It’s a good thing, for both of us, that I’m the worst kind of person.
Because I was teetering on the edge of doing something disastrously stupid, something that could damage both of our reputations. I was willing to break just to have one moment of us. But now, I have to break for her, to protect her.
“No. We aren’t friends, Lily. We’ve never been friends. Just because we have to be in the same rooms doesn’t mean we need to talk. Or even look at each other.”
The look in her eyes … it’s as if I’ve slapped her. So much shame and hurt cloud those baby blues, and I feel the knife twisting deeper into the ventricles of my heart.
“God, when is enough going to be enough?” I slam the rest of my whiskey back, psyching myself up to destroy the love of the most amazing woman in the world. “Don’t you get it? This is desperate and sad. We were over a long time ago. I don’t want you. What is going to make you understand that?”
In the middle of my total annihilation of her, her phone buzzes. She picks it up, using anything to escape from this attack.
“It’s my parents. They want to make sure I got home, say it’s too late.”
I snort, the alcohol making me especially mean tonight. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint the senator and his wife. Oh, wait, I shouldn’t use the word disappoint. The word is disobey.”
Lily’s eyes grow cold, and that’s good. It’s what I want. “You’re despicable.”
“And you’re weak. You’ve never had one thought for yourself. One thought that wasn’t put there by them.”
This asshole comment has a different effect. Her entire face fills with upset, and I’m sure she’s about to crumble.
“I have to go.” A single tear falls.
“Yeah, go do whatever mommy and daddy tell you to. It’s what you do best.”
Lily sen
ds me one last defeated, humiliated, heartbroken look as she grabs her purse and bolts from the bar.
My own soul may be cracked in half, but my mission is accomplished.
Hopefully, I’ve done enough damage that she’ll stay away, and never discover the secret that divides us.
12
Bowen
The collar on the tux was pulling so tight, I couldn’t seem to get a good breath in.
“I feel like some Vegas showboy,” I grumble.
Keaton laughs at my uncomfortableness. “Presley doesn’t care what we wear, but I’ve always envisioned a tux when I’m standing at that altar.”
“Of course, you have, why would you dream of anything else? Old-fashioned, stiff, conservative … wait are we talking about you or the tux?” I smirk.
He huffs in annoyance but can’t move to sucker punch me in the arm because the tailor has pins dangerously close to his junk.
When he asked me to come with him to get fitted for the wedding, I guess I didn’t realize I’d be wearing a suit, too. Or, more accurately, a tuxedo. The thing was stuffy and restricting, but I wasn’t complaining as much as I could because I was supposed to be the best man.
I’d been poked and prodded all morning, but at least it was almost over. And at least I had Keaton alone.
Because I needed to talk to someone. Me, the guy who never wanted to form words, couldn’t help but wanting to spew the thoughts spinning around in my head.
After last night, after almost slipping up and kissing Lily for the second time in as many weeks, I needed a game plan.
Without a doubt, I felt rotten, like I’d poisoned myself, thinking about the things I’d said to her. They were fucking horrible. But I’d needed to do something to get her away from me. These chance meetings, the moments in private, they were becoming a regular thing. It had to stop. I wasn’t strong enough to resist her much longer.
Forgiven: The Nash Brothers, Book Two Page 5