by Hart, Lane
“What are we getting fifteen of exactly?” Nash asks.
“You’ll see,” I assure him, handing him the other clipboard. “Just sign the paperwork.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Nash starts to sign before he pauses and then scribbles something illegible on the signature line before printing “Nathan Smith” on the other line.
If he notices me watching, he doesn’t give a shit. Nash just sits the clipboard on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t just bail on me. The fact that he’s here means something. I just hope it means that he’ll eventually forgive me.
After we’ve paid, ponytail guy shows us into the “dressing room” where we’re told to put on coveralls, a clear face mask that covers our entire face, and then a pair of Kevlar gloves.
“Did we just pay him to do some dirty work or what?” Nash asks when the man leaves us alone.
“Just get dressed and you’ll see. I think you’ll feel better afterwards.”
“There is not a fucking thing that could make me feel better right now,” he mutters.
“Well, it won’t hurt to try,” I say as I step into my coveralls and zip them up. I ignore Nash until he finally gets into his suit.
A separate side door opens, and the man tells us, “The room’s ready for you. I threw in an old tube TV at no charge. Grab a bat and go on in when you’re ready.” He nods to the wall of baseball bats hanging in a row on the opposite wall.
“Great, thanks,” I reply. “Here’s hoping you don’t decide to use the bat on me,” I say on an exhale.
“You know I would never fucking touch you,” Nash responds, indignant at what I mostly meant as a joke.
And, yes, I know he’s right. He will probably never, ever touch me again, not even in the way I may want, which sucks, but would only make everything more complicated.
“Put your face shield on and come on,” I say to him. I grab two of the bats, offering one to Nash as I head for the room. At first, I’m not even sure if he’ll follow me. Honestly, if he had done to me what I just did to him, I wouldn’t want to be in the same building as him. That just goes to show what a good person he is, warrants for his arrest aside. And while I know this place will by no means make it up to him, hopefully it’ll be a place that Nash can focus some of his anger before we sit down and talk.
“What the fuck is this place?” Nash says from behind me.
Rather than explain it to him with more words, I demonstrate by raising my bat to my shoulder and then swinging it into a chipped vase, sending shattered pieces everywhere.
“Seriously?” he asks.
“Yep. We can break everything in this room.”
“Fuck yes,” he mutters before he tees off, sending a wine glass flying across the room where it smashes against the opposite wall. And once he gets started, there’s no stopping him. I step back to the corner and watch as Nash pummels everything in sight.
After about five minutes, he even starts shouting over the rock music coming through the speakers, destroying items with each and every word.
“She’s getting married?” Smash, smash, smash. “Again?” Smash. “To that fucker?” Smash, smash, smash. “That.” Smash. “Bitch.” Smash.
I don’t say anything, just watch him. Too bad we have to wear clothes, because I would’ve loved to see all the muscles in Nash’s upper body flexing as he goes through the room like a beautiful, angry wrecking ball.
When there’s nothing left in big enough pieces to strike, Nash lowers his bat to his side and looks at me. “Now what?” he asks, his chest rising and falling with his panting breaths, reminding me of earlier when we kissed. Jeez, that seems like another lifetime ago.
“Now we can leave.”
“Okay,” he agrees, dropping his bat and then walking out the door to the main entrance still in all of his protective clothes.
“Sorry,” I tell the man at the desk. “I’ll be right back with your stuff.”
“No problem,” he replies with a grin.
Hopefully that wasn’t a lie. Who knows what Nash is thinking now? He could take off on foot and leave me in the dust.
But as soon as I push through the front glass door, I find him sitting with his back against the building, which is a relief. He’s staring out at the parking lot, his face shield lying beside him.
Heading over, I take a seat about two feet away to give him space. “I would ask if you’re okay, but I know that would be a stupid question,” I remark. “So, let’s start with how pissed off at me you are right now, on a scale of one to ten, ten being you’ll never forgive me?”
“One hundred,” he answers without missing a beat.
“Wow, that’s a big number,” I mutter, as I swallow around the sudden knot in my throat thinking about how much he must hate me. “But to be fair, there are probably a lot of things you’ve been keeping from me too.”
“None about your ex.”
“True,” I agree. Both of us sit and stare at the traffic zooming by on the road in front of us.
“He’s rich as fuck, isn’t he?” Nash eventually asks.
“Yes,” I reply since I know exactly who the ‘he’ he’s referring to is – Barry. “How did you know?”
“Lucky fucking guess.”
Wrapping my arms around my legs, I tell him, “His family has more money than they know what to do with.”
“Of course they do,” he grumbles.
“He’ll probably cheat on her too,” I assure him.
“Good.”
“She’ll always be miserable. A nanny will probably raise their kid. I think she got knocked up on purpose so he would have to marry her. The Atwaters may look the other way for affairs, but they wouldn’t tolerate a bastard in the family or a divorce, so she’s in it for life now. I wonder if his parents know about you…”
“Fuck all of them,” Nash mutters. “They can wipe their tears and asses with their cash for all I care.”
“We met when he was at fat camp,” I admit.
“You went to fat camp?” Nash asks, finally looking at me for the first time since the hotel.
“No. I was at computer camp right next door, but we all hung out around the campfires at night. I used to sneak Barry cookies, because he always whined that they didn’t get anything but fruit for dessert.”
“That’s funny,” he replies even though neither of us are even smiling. “You dated a long time?”
“Oh yeah. We dated through the end of high school and all through college. Then we moved in together, and I…well, it all fell apart.”
“He looks like a dickhead.”
“He is a dickhead,” I agree. “So is she. A gold-digging dickhead. They deserve each other.”
“I didn’t recognize her at first. It just didn’t make sense that after all these years she would be right there standing in front of me with another man and fucking pregnant.”
“Now you know why Ellie finally asked for a divorce.”
“Yeah, I figured as much,” he says with a sigh. “You two sort of look alike.”
“Sort of, but I’m just half a foot shorter, uglier and dorkier.”
“You’re not uglier,” he tells me softly. “But you are definitely smaller and dorkier.”
“Ellie was Miss Teen USA, and I didn’t even make it on the homecoming court in high school!”
“You’re a better person than her, even if you are a sneaky little bitch,” he replies. “Guess this is my own fault for asking to tag along. You did try and talk me out of it.”
“You were persistent.”
“I was. I admit it. So, I guess I’ll bring down that one hundred to a fifty on the anger scale.”
“Nice. That’s much better.” Being a fifty on a scale of ten still sounds like he’s done with me.
“Now what are we gonna do?” Nash asks.
“Whatever you want to do.”
“I’m exhausted, but I could eat something.”
�
��I, ah, I do have a room back at the resort if you want to crash there tonight and then leave tomorrow. We could get room service to make sure we don’t run into them again tonight.”
“Okay,” Nash agrees when he gets to his feet.
“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”
“That’s where dogs belong,” he says with a slight smirk on his lips. “First, I guess we need to give the demolition guy all his shit back.”
“That would probably be best.”
Chapter Seventeen
Nash
* * *
Lucy and I made it to her hotel room with our luggage without seeing anyone in the ‘wedding party’, for which I was thankful. There was food eaten, but I don’t exactly remember what I put in my mouth since my head is still in a fog.
I wasn’t prepared to do this – to see Ellie again, especially not the weekend of her fucking wedding.
In fact, I was looking forward to spending what could be my last days of freedom with Lucy more than anything before it all blew up in my face.
She’s known who I am this entire time. No fucking wonder why being with Lucy felt familiar. Not only did she know about my past with Ellie, but she’s fucking related to my ex-wife!
I’m so furious with Lucy I can’t breathe!
Or maybe I’m mostly pissed at Ellie for moving on with her life without me, as if I don’t matter, making me think she never loved me.
I’m angry at both of them, and the fat tub of lard Ellie’s marrying. The guy who hurt and betrayed Lucy. What a dick.
Thinking of how distraught I was the past few years, wondering if Ellie was coming back and what I did to deserve her abandonment, I can somewhat sympathize with Lucy and understand her motives.
There’s no doubt in my mind that Lucy had no ill-intentions when she showed up in Carolina Beach seeking me out.
And honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her the last few weeks. If she hadn’t forced her way into my life, I would probably still be passed out in my apartment drunk.
Still, there’s a lot of shit to think about, and I need time to wrap my head around everything before I can forgive her. Lucy, that is. There is no forgiving Ellie.
I’m still completely zoned out, lost in my thoughts sitting in one of the room chairs when Lucy finally comes out of the bathroom after the longest shower or bath in history. She goes over to the bed and removes one of the pillows, then tosses it down on the floor. After that, she grabs a blanket from the closet and says, “Sorry about everything. Good night.”
“Night,” I mutter half-heartedly.
Only when she disappears on the other side of the bed do I realize she was serious about sleeping on the floor and didn’t realize that I was just joking.
“Get up, Lucy,” I order her.
Her head pops up above the mattress. “What?”
“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor all night.”
“You should have the bed. I’ll be fine down here,” she tells me before her head ducks back down.
The chance of me sleeping tonight is slim to none whether it’s in this chair or in the bed. There’s no point in her being uncomfortable, even if she does deserve it for lying to me.
“Lucy, get your ass in the bed!” I shout at her.
“No,” comes her quiet refusal.
Sighing, I get to my feet and trudge around the bed to her. Her hair is pulled back and her face is clean of makeup, making her look even younger and more innocent, even though I know it’s a bullshit illusion.
Bending down, I scoop her up in my arms, blanket and all, and then drop her on the mattress before retrieving her pillow, tossing it at her face.
“You shouldn’t have to sleep beside someone you hate,” she tells me softly, still hiding behind the pillow.
“I don’t hate you,” I reply, and it’s the truth. I could never hate her no matter what she did. I don’t even hate Ellie for hurting me, up and leaving without a word the same way my parents did. The most fucked-up part is that she knew how the shit from my past tore me up and still she did it anyway. Hate is too strong a word for her. I hated Ellie’s decision, her stupid ass choices. If she wasn’t happy with me, she should’ve just told me so before leaving, let me know it was over. Maybe she did in her own way and I just wasn’t paying attention. I never really thought the two of us would work out, not when Ellie was from a wealthy family and I was broke as fuck back then. The money I have now is mostly earned illegally, which I doubt she would have tolerated…
“Are you gonna sleep in the bed too?” Lucy asks, putting the pillow behind her head and watching me. I know if I don’t, my rejection will sting her badly.
“Yeah, I am,” I reply. My day has been too shitty to sleep in a chair or on the floor. May as well enjoy as many comforts as I can now before I lose them.
Once I remove my cut and shoes, I turn off the lights and climb in bed in my t-shirt and boxer briefs but keep every inch on my side, careful not to touch her. It’s not that I don’t want to. Even pissed a part of me would love to kiss Lucy and lose myself inside of her to forget about this fucked-up day and make shit okay between us. But being a suspect for murder and finally facing my ex-wife, who has moved on, has put a damper on everything.
That first one, the life prison sentence, is the main thing that has me keeping my hands to myself.
It wouldn’t be fair to Lucy to sleep with her this weekend, knowing I won’t see her again once we get back home. I hate it; but in the long run, Lucy will be glad she didn’t fuck a killer.
I stare at the dark ceiling for most of the night, thoughts racing in my head, trying to deal with one of my problems at a time.
And it finally hits me what I need to do first once the sun is up.
I have to confront Ellie, to finally get everything I want to say off my chest and hear what she has to say for herself.
With that plan in mind, I finally doze for a few hours before getting up and taking a quick shower. Lucy is still sound asleep when I creep out the door and take a walk around the resort.
Maybe it’s pure luck or maybe it was my hunch that Ellie is a control freak, but either way, from the hallway I can hear her barking orders at hotel staff before eight a.m. She’s standing and pointing in one of the ballrooms while worker bees hurry around her, putting table and chairs together. The white pantsuit she’s wearing hides her bump well and is no doubt expensive but stiff, making her look twice her age of almost thirty. It’s possible I’ve just grown accustomed to being around Lucy and prefer her bright colors and youthful exuberance.
Ellie doesn’t hear me or notice my approach, which is great because she won’t be able to run.
When I’m standing right behind her, I finally say, “You and I need to talk.”
Her shoulders tense up, but she doesn’t turn around or have to look at me because I can tell she still recognizes my voice. “Right now? I’m sort of busy here, Nash,” she replies with a scoff.
“Too bad. I am sick and fucking tired of waiting on you. So, either you can turn around and talk to me like a normal person, or I’ll shout what I have to say to you loud enough for the whole goddamn resort to hear!” I threaten her.
With an exaggerated exhale, she turns around and hisses, “Watch your mouth with me. There’s no reason to get nasty.”
“No reason, huh?” I mutter as I glare down at her.
“Fine. Come on,” she huffs, and then I’m following the click-clack of her stilettos over to the empty side of the ballroom away from the workers. “So, talk,” Ellie turns around and says, crossing her arms over her chest.
And great, now that I’m standing here with her, my mind momentarily blanks as I stare at her face that’s still the same as it was three years ago. The face is the same, but she’s not the same woman I once loved more than anything.
So I say the first thing that pops into my head. “I knew you were vicious wrapped in a pretty package, but how could you steal your own cousin’s b
oyfriend?”
Apparently, that wasn’t what she was expecting me to say. Her mouth flaps like a fish before she finally says, “I know it looks awful, especially since Lucy was going through a tough time with the cancer and all, but really that’s what Barry and I bonded over, our concern for her.”
“Bullshit, you’re never concerned about anyone but yourself,” I grit out before all of her words sink through my thick skull. Hold on. Back the fuck up. “What was that part about Lucy’s cancer?”
“She didn’t tell you?” Ellie asks with her eyebrow lifted as if calling us on our fake relationship.
“Of course she did! I just can’t believe you were hooking up with fat boy while she had cancer.”
“It was just the one time! But then I found out a few weeks later that I was pregnant, so we had no choice but to tell her.” Her arms unfold and her palms mold around her belly. “It wasn’t like I got pregnant just to rub it in her face that she can never have kids. She knew Barry wants them, so it worked out for the best really.”
Jesus. Why the fuck didn’t Lucy tell me she had cancer or that she can’t have kids? That shit has to be hard on her, and yet she’s always so bubbly and happy, like nothing gets to her.
“The best for you and him maybe, just not for Lucy,” I grumble. “And I guess it worked out the best for me too since I don’t want any kids. Saves us a ton on condoms too.”
Ellie’s jaw drops as my intended low blow lands. When she’s able to recover enough to speak, she stammers. “I…you…you’re not actually sleeping with her, are you? You can stop with the bullshit lies about ‘being in a relationship.’ She’s not even your type!”
“Lucy is every fucking thing I didn’t know I’ve always wanted,” I reply honestly. “And she never mentioned the wedding was yours. She tried to stop me from coming, more than once. I insisted on crashing, because I couldn’t imagine being away from her for even just a few days and nights. Guess she was just trying to protect me from the likes of you all along.”
