Nash Brothers Box Set

by Carrie Aarons

  “If it were up to Bowen, I’d be pregnant and barefoot like, a month ago.”

  My mouth forms a wide O. “So why aren’t you? If he’s ready to pull the goalie, I’d think you’d be thrilled.”

  She looks away, shrugging her shoulders. “I just … I’m unsure. Not if I want children, of course, I love the idea of being a mom. But am I ready?”

  Her words remind me of a much younger version of myself. One who was terrified and doubtful, a young married woman that wasn’t quite sure she could be responsible for another human life.

  I smirk, having been exactly where she is and knowing information only a woman with three kids can.

  “Lil, you’re never ready for a baby. Not if you read every parenting book, not if it takes you less than a second to conceive. You’re not ready when that giant head tears your vagina, or when the kid poops on you for the first time. No one can be prepared for the sleepless months, even years, the trips to the doctor, the food thrown against the wall. If anyone was ready for that, they’d never have kids in the first place.”

  “You make it sound like survival.” She looks even more worried than she was before I spoke.

  I shrug. “It is, in the best way possible. But, knowing you, you’ll have angels for children who never cry and learn how to eat with a fork and knife at like, six months.”

  My best friend doesn’t understand the baby age reference and doesn’t look any more comforted. So I take her hand, patting it. “You’re going to be an amazing mother. When you decide you’re ready, enough, that’s when you’ll know.”

  “That makes no sense.” Her fingers squeeze mine.

  “Neither does parenting, but we all do it anyway.”

  My phone chimes in my purse, and I dig it out.

  Forrest: I miss you.

  I hold the phone close, trying to keep my grin on the down low. In the couple of weeks since we’ve been truly dating … things have been going well. Actually, they’re going spectacularly, which far exceeded my expectations when I first agreed to give it a real go.

  Penelope: I miss you, too.

  Forrest: I can’t stop thinking about you. How about I come over for dinner?

  Well, things were going well except for that. Forrest, surprisingly, wanted to move things a bit faster than I want to. We’d gotten in a short argument the other night about him sleeping over or helping out with the boys. I told him it was too soon to introduce him as someone who would be staying the night with their mother, or even attending dinners without the rest of his family crew in tow. He told me that he wanted to be a real part of my life and then dropped it because I was their mother and knew best.

  But it didn’t mean he’s let up in trying to score a dinner invitation to the Briggs house.

  Penelope: You know the answer to that.

  Forrest: What if I bring Chinese food? The boys love Chinese food … and you wouldn’t have to cook.

  He is one master manipulator. Because I’m tired, and the thought of fried noodles in brown sauce sounds absolutely amazing. I take a few seconds, looking up from my phone to watch Ames cut a bladed hand through the air, and then answer.

  Penelope: Fine. But only if you get extra fortune cookies.

  Forrest: Hmm, I’d say I’m starting to break the ice queen down.

  Penelope: Don’t press your luck.

  “Who are you texting?” Lily looks over my shoulder.

  I slam my hand to my chest, smashing my phone into my boobs. “No one.”

  “That’s such a lie! You’re totally blushing right now.” She pokes me in the shoulder.

  Turning to angle my body even farther from her, I jostle my phone. As if it’s a slow-motion movie, the thing drops from my hands, and I bobble it. Except … I bobble it right into Lily’s lap.

  Cue embarrassment scene from said movie.

  My best friend picks it up. Any other person would hand it right back, not wanting to pry into someone else’s business. But Lily and I are far too close, and she’s probably suspected for some time that I’ve been keeping something from her.

  So, instead, she looks right at the screen that’s opened to the text conversation between Forrest and me.

  “Why are you texting Forrest?” she asks, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. “Wait, why does he miss you? Hold on …”

  It takes a moment for the lightbulb to go off, and I swear I sit there on pins and needles before Lily exclaims …

  “Oh. My. God.” Her eyes whip to mine, so much shock held in those big brown irises.

  “Lily …” I snatch my phone back, annoyed at how close we are that she knows she can invade my privacy like this. That’s a move out of my playbook.

  “You … and Forrest? What in the …” She trails off, looking bewildered. “How? When?”

  A couple of the parents around us here the commotion, and I can see two moms who like to talk shit behind people’s back eyeing us with interest.

  “Will you keep your voice down?” I hiss.

  Lily blinks at me as if she doesn’t even know me. “I … I’m not even sure what to say …”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. “What do you want to know?”

  This is the moment I’ve been dreading. Let the others find out, let me go on dates with him, let him come over for dinner … but once Lily finds out, it’s …

  Well, it’s real. Lily is the only one who really knows me. She was there for every late night gossip session when I first started dating Travis. On the day of my wedding, she talked me off the ledge when I thought I’d throw up before going down the aisle. Lily was the one who helped me deliver my babies, who picked me up off the floor when my husband died. She is my person, and now that she knows about Forrest, I have to actually deal with the very real feelings I have for the man I never intended to care for, much less like.

  “He’s the one who you slept with. Before Presley’s wedding.” Lily doesn’t ask this, just state it.

  I nod, chewing on my lip.

  “Oh my God, how long has this been going on?” Her eyes look like they might fall out of her head. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  A twinge of guilt sends goose bumps running over my skin. “It hasn’t been consistent. Well, not until recently, maybe the last couple of months.”

  “And are you … together?” Lily looks like she doesn’t know what to make of this news.

  “I honestly can’t answer that. Maybe? We weren’t, at the beginning. It was just a buddy kind of deal, if you know what I mean.”

  “Pen, I can’t even believe this. Forrest! I thought you hated Forrest!”

  That makes me laugh. “I did. Or, I thought he was extremely annoying. But damn, does the man know what to do in bed—”

  Lily holds up a hand. “That’s my little brother now. I’ll pass.”

  She has a point, so I shut up. “It was only supposed to be a casual thing, and that’s why we didn’t tell anyone. We didn’t want you all getting your hopes up like I can see you’re doing right now. It’s still so early, Lil, and we don’t want any expectations from you all.”

  “Wait, all of us? Who else knows?”

  Here is where I grit my teeth and swallow the guilt of her not being the first to know. “Well, your mother-in-law guessed it pretty early on. So did Presley … she caught us actually. And I guess Fletcher had a feeling and then told the rest of the Nash brothers.”

  Lily’s eyes take on a wounded look that I haven’t seen very often. “So, everybody knows except for me?”

  I do my best to put on an apologetic expression. “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, it’s just that by telling you, it meant I would have to deal with it.”

  “Deal with your feelings, you mean?” Her scowl lets up, softening into understanding.

  I nod, looking over at Ames. “I never thought I’d want to find someone after Travis died. I have my children, and that could be enough. Forrest … he makes me feel like maybe I do want love after all. Gosh, how weird is that?”
<
br />   “Believe me, it sounds way weirder to me than it does to your own ears.” Lily chuckles. “Forrest Nash, who would have thought? Honestly, though, I see how it could work between you two.”

  She hasn’t even observed us together, in a romantic capacity, and already Lily could understand how we would function as a couple.

  It scares the living shit out of me that I could imagine it too, on an even deeper level. Because I’d just mentioned the word love to my best friend.

  How weird is that?

  31

  Penelope

  Boxes of steaming rice and noodles, containers overflowing with sesame chicken, vegetables tossed in garlic sauce, beef coated in teriyaki mixture … it’s all laid out on my kitchen table, ready and waiting for the boys and I as we walk in the door.

  “What the hell?” Falls out of my mouth before I can stop it.

  “Mama, you said a bad word!” Ames giggles as he points at me.

  Ignoring my youngest, I swivel around impatiently, wondering how this mirage of Chinese food appeared in my house.

  “Oh, good, you’re home. Food was getting cold. Come on, boys, dig in.” Forrest walks over from the counter, carrying two wineglasses, and hands one to me.

  He leans in, almost ready to kiss my cheek, but retreats before he does it. It’s probably because he doesn’t know what I’ll do if he kisses me in front of my kids, but suddenly, my skin goes cold after anticipating the warm gesture.

  “How did you get in here?” I stand there, bug-eyed, as he slips Travis’ school backpack off my shoulder.

  Meanwhile, the kids clamor to the table, not even bothering to wash their hands, to accept food from someone they barely know. Guess that talk about not taking candy from strangers went straight in one ear and out the other.

  Forrest sets all my things down and then clinks his wineglass against mine. “Presley told me you keep a spare key under the planter in the back garden. That’s not very safe, and I probably sound like a stalker, but I wanted to have this ready for you when you got home. Figured everyone would be hungry.”

  It was both thoughtful, caring, and surprising coming from him … and I am currently putty in his hands. He asked my friend how to get into my house so he could set up dinner for my boys and me? It might be the sweetest thing Forrest has ever done for me.

  “Thank you.” I blink, still in shock that he did all of this for me.

  For years, I’d been used to the selfish Forrest, the bachelor who cracked sarcastic jokes and didn’t even help out his family. But maybe, that had just been a one-sided opinion of him. Over the past few months, I’ve seen different sides of this man, and I have to admit … he is as giving as anyone I know.

  With his hand on the small of my back, a floating, secret touch that the boys would never notice, he ushers me to the table. We sit at either end, co-heads with the boys filling in the middle. It strikes me how normal this moment feels … and also how odd it is. I’m usually the only figure of authority at this table, I don’t have another person help me out or backing me up. My children don’t have a male parent to look to for advice or even a funny dinner table dad joke.

  Forrest might have pushed his way into my house tonight, but I am starting to realize he has somehow pushed his way into my heart too. Because … it is easy to see how a family that includes him would look.

  Hopefully, he wasn’t scared about that. God, am I really letting myself think about this? As the smell of shrimp lo mein wafts up from my plate, I ponder it.

  That was what he would get with me, all or nothing. What any man would get if they were considering a life with me. I don’t have the luxury of moving slow, of getting to know each other, of seeing how things went. I have children, which means that if I am even considering introducing someone to them, it’s going to be pretty freaking serious, pretty freaking fast. Not only did that person not have the convenience of doubt in a relationship, neither did I. I have been married before, I know if and when love is love.

  Love? Where did that come from?

  All I know is, so far, Forrest has passed every test I’ve thrown at him.

  “P, do you want some beef and broccoli?” he asks from the other end of the table and I can tell it’s not the first time he’s asked.

  I shake my head to clear the fog. “Yes, please.”

  “Mom, Forrest said he’ll teach me some cheat codes in Fortnite.” Travis beams excitedly.

  My brows lower in disapproval. “He’ll do no such thing. We don’t cheat at anything, especially video games.”

  Matthew pipes in, “Mom, everyone cheats at video games. It’s like … practically the law.”

  “I think you have the wrong definition of the law floating around in your head.” I bop him on the nose.

  “Forrest, will you watch The Incredibles 2 with me?” Ames asks sweetly, a mouthful of noodles hanging from his lips.

  My man friend (is that what we’re calling him?) fist bumps my youngest. “Dude, love that movie. I’ll definitely watch it with you. Who is your favorite character?”

  Shoving more chicken in his face, Ames seems to consider this. “Jack Jack, because he’s the baby of the family but has a lot of powers. And the coolest ones!”

  Forrest shrugs, shooting me a wink. “I’ve never heard a better response.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t Captain America cooler?” Matthew tries to one up his brother and impress Forrest.

  But the only male over the age of ten at the table has a quick comeback.

  “Any super hero is cool, whether it’s the Disney kind or in the Marvel universe. I have some really neat old comics I should bring over to show you guys. I sort of collect them.”

  To any other person, it would sound so dorky. But, in the minds of these little boys, Forrest has just become the most awesome person they know.

  And to me, he just succeeded in melting every part of my heart.

  Dinner concludes with more talk of school, movies, and where the boys would like to vacation this summer. Apparently, Travis has it in his head we’re going to Disney World, and I had to hold back the urge to smack Forrest when he said he’d love to show them the Magic Kingdom.

  “Do you know how much a trip to Disney costs?” I tell him exasperatedly as we stand at the sink, washing up the few utensils used during the meal. “You don’t understand this parent thing at all.”

  He shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to step on your toes. Or over-promise.”

  “Too bad you did both.” Sarcasm is laced in my tone.

  “If you’d let me, I’d love to take care of it. Think of it as a three-in-one birthday present for the boys,” he offers.

  The simple way he says it almost makes me drop the serving fork I’m placing on the drying board. “Forrest, you can’t buy the boys birthday gifts. Much less a trip to freaking Disney. What would they think?”

  “They’d think that I care about them, and their mother, very much.” His face is completely serious, and my heart does a backflip.

  “It’s … no, you can’t. We’re not even discussing this.” I shake my head.

  Forrest takes the pair of tongs from my hands and encircles my waist with his arms. Reaching past me, he turns off the faucet and smiles.

  “P, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get their hopes up, although it is something I can deliver on. And I do want them to know I care. I want to be here, for them and for you. You might think it’s too fast, and your first instinct might be to fight it, but please don’t. This is my declaration. If you weren’t clear on it earlier, I am in. Whether it’s video games for their birthday presents or a trip to Orlando … I am in. I want to be here for dinner, for sports practices, to watch Marvel movies with them. But what’s more, is I am all in with you. I want to clean up the dishes and take you out on dates. I want to scratch your back before you fall asleep and put up with you when you spend an hour in the bathroom on your makeup. I want to be the best couple in the whole Nash crew, and I want to argue until we make
out.”

  I swear, I haven’t taken a breath in a full two minutes. Forrest has stolen it, along with every beat of my heart.

  “You don’t have to say anything, I know I’ve rendered you speechless and that’s damn near impossible. But I want you to know the things I want. And now you do.”

  32

  Forrest

  When June hits in Fawn Hill, you know a couple of things for certain.

  The parking lot at Bloomfield Park is going to be hectic on Saturday afternoons because of the youth baseball tournaments. The coffee shop brings back their cold brew … and sells out by ten a.m. And you can guarantee to find the Nash brothers working the caramel corn tent at the Summer Kickoff Carnival.

  My mother ropes us into it every year, and we stand in the scorching hot, yellow and white striped tent, serving the residents of our town their favorite warm-weather snack. We argue, laugh, put on a bit of a show … and while the four of us might bitch about the tradition, we secretly love it.

  “I’m going to smell like caramel for a week straight,” I complain, hosing down the industrial-sized pots.

  Darkness has set in, the carnival rides filtering twinkling organ music and the shrieks of roller-coaster riders through the air. Our booth is done for the day, having always been given a daytime time slot to fill. I’m glad; being on your feet for twelve hours straight is torture.

  “You’re just salty because your weak body can’t stand for hours at a time.” Bowen shoots me a look.

  “And you’re absolutely right. Back to my white-collar life I go!” I pretend to skip, not so secretly happy that I work a desk job.

  The most physical exertion I attempt in my career is adjusting my screen or keyboard.

  Keaton has his truck backed up to our tent, breaking the thing down and throwing all sorts of poles, tarps, and cooking utensils in the trunk.