For Better or Hearse

Chapter Thirty-Seven

T he entire Whitford family, plus Ash, touches down in LA the next day.

Ten days ago, she’d have rather been put in the luggage hold than be seated near Nathaniel Whitford. And now look at her life. Snuggled up next to him on the Whitford private jet.

At the private terminal, Claire gives her a special marmalade from the Big Island and a tight hug. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.” Her smile is bright, warm. “I’m grateful you’re there for my father. And my family.”

As Nathaniel shakes hands with his father and kisses his mother, Ash gives Augustus a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” she says against his ear. “For everything.”

“My dear, I should be thanking you.”

“You’re not mad at me for banging your grandson?” She winces.

Augustus laughs. “On the contrary.”

Heart aching with appreciation, she squeezes his hands. “See you soon. Tea and whiskey?”

Augustus lifts a brow. “And chess.”

More hugs. Delaney and Tate, and then it’s just Ash and Nathaniel.

“Ready to go?” he asks softly.

Caught off guard, she blinks. It’s then that she realizes where they are. Not Hawaii. Not paradise. The real world. They’re doing this. They’re trying. Whatever this is.

She looks at his handsome face, that adorable half smile, and breathes, “Yes.”

Hand in hand, they exit the hangar and make their way to the long-term parking. Nathaniel digs keys out of his pocket, and soon, they’re standing in front of a vintage Bronco.

Ash arches a brow. “Figured you for more of a Benz guy.”

“Nah, I’m not a show-off.” He takes the bag of gifts for Tessie and Bear from Ash and loads it carefully into the back seat. Into the cargo space goes their luggage. As he slams the hatch, he casually asks, “Your place first?”

Her brain fizzes out, then clears. Her place. God. She hopes it’s clean.

Panic, anxiety, make a mess of her nerves. Suddenly, all of this is daunting. What if Ash Keller post-vacation is not what he anticipated?

She and Nathaniel, they haven’t talked about commitments, expectations. They’re just doing it. They used their time on the plane to snuggle. Not talk about next steps. Jump first and think later. Which is all very Ash Keller of her. But now…plans seem of the essence.

Two weeks together in LA. She has a place; he has a place. It makes perfect sense. Until they stay together. One never truly knows whether they’re compatible with another person until they discover if they have an overreliance on throw pillows or sleep with the TV on.

Like he’s read her thoughts, he tugs at her crop top. Bringing her back. To him. “Beautiful brain compute.”

“Listen, if you don’t like this, you can leave, okay?” she says, her voice a sharp challenge. “You can bail at any time or any place and—” At the grin that splits his face, she falters. Her brain fumbles. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you smiling?”

“I’m smiling because you’re adorable when you’re nervous.”

She scowls. Damn his charm. He’s too perfect and he knows it.

“What if I scare you away?” she breathes, voicing her fear. She searches his face, his pale-blue eyes, for any hesitancy, any what the fuck am I doing here? regret .

But there’s none.

“You won’t.” He cups her face, running that big thumb over her lower lip in a tender way that leaves her breathless. “I carried you on a beach, saved you from a mountain, stabbed you in the thigh with a needle. You think I’m leaving now?”

Oh god. Her heart.

“Very true,” she says, flicking a cool brow. “You had your chance to kill me multiple times, and you failed. It’s a shame.”

He scoffs. “I could kill you any time I wanted. Maybe this is all a ruse to get you to let your guard down so I can smother you in your sleep.”

“There’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“What’s that?”

“I sleep with knives.”

“I look forward to it.” He sobers, stepping forward to take her in his arms. “I want to know you, Ash. Here and there. Wherever you are, I want to know you.”

It sounds too good to be true. Just like him. Just like the last two weeks.

Shit. That’s what she’s doing. Waiting for it to end, to break, to snap. Isn’t she? Treating him like temporary when every single one of his words, every action proves otherwise.

Her eyes flutter closed briefly. “Okay,” she says, her throat tight.

A hint of a smile curves his lovely lips. “One thing you should know about me…I drive like a very tall asshole.”

Nathaniel Whitford’s in her apartment.

It still feels surreal to say that.

Quietly, methodically, he inspects her tiny one-bedroom in Culver City. The moody black gallery wall of art prints. The Victorian highboy she and Tessie thrifted years ago. On top, it’s decorated with flower prints and teacups found at antique stores .

Nathaniel studies it all in that steady, stern way of his. Like he cares. Like it matters to him. It should freak her out. Letting him poke around her apartment feels like she’s opened up all her gory inside parts and put them on display. But it doesn’t scare her. Not with him.

In fact, the situation feels far less strange than she expected. It feels like the last two weeks. Like home. A sense of belonging.

She wants Nathaniel to see her in real life. All the seasons. Her apartment. Every mood. To prove to herself he’s not just a mirage or temporary.

Ash follows his gaze as he looks over a shelf of framed photographs. When he stops and studies one in particular, she says, “That’s me and Tessie.” A dark-haired girl and a blond, mid-laugh on Venice Beach.

She shows him the bedroom with its brick walls and electric-purple velvet headboard.

He eyes the half-made bed, the blankets and sheets rumpled like she left mid–air raid, and says, “I expected nothing less.”

She bites her lip. Tamps down the nerves fluttering through her. “I’m a horror story. I leave caps off the toothpaste too.”

He crosses his arms. “Good thing I’m an expert at putting them back on.”

She tugs him back into the living room. “Now for my favorite part.”

Nathaniel lifts a brow. “Head in the freezer?”

“Better.” Ash stomps to the windows and opens the doors to her small vine-covered patio. “Ta-da!”

The sun slices through the apartment. Far off in the distance, beyond the smoggy LA skyline, is the Hollywood sign. It’s barely discernible, but it never fails to make her smile. Her home.

And now Nathaniel’s in her home.

He joins her. Wraps an arm around her waist.

A calm silence passes between them.

Tilting her head back, Ash looks up at him, at his handsome face cast in sunlight and shadow. Every hard angle a perfect chisel in stone.

“What do you think?”

“It’s you.”

She arches a suspicious brow. “So do I disassociate now or…”

“Take the compliment, Bigfoot.”

“It’s weird. You being here,” she says, quickly adding, “but I like it.”

“I like you,” he husks. His eyes have that lustful, hungry look to them. She knows that look. It means she’ll be naked in a matter of minutes.

She slices her nails through his hair. “Does this mean the truce has ended?”

His eyes are heavy-lidded now. “The truce ended about ten days and a hundred kisses ago.”

Ash purrs as Nathaniel’s mouth meets hers with a hard urgency. He slips his strong fingers up the hem of her crop top and palms her breast. She bites that lush lower lip of his, tugging him toward her. Arched bodies, frantic hands.

The exquisite ache in the center of her chest blooms. Making room. A space for Nathaniel.

“Christ, Ash.” He shudders. One hand is on her hip, teasing at the waistband of her skirt.

From inside the apartment, her phone chimes. The sound of an incoming FaceTime call.

“Tessie,” she gasps, tearing away from Nathaniel. But he’s still kissing her, his lips moving instinctively for her throat.

Oh fuck, Tessie.

“I have to get it.” She twists in his grip, lunging for the door. Her heart drops to her boots. “If something’s wrong…”

Nathaniel nods in understanding. Eyes still dazed, he adjusts himself and his rumpled shirt. He follows her inside as she scurries to the device and positions himself in direct view of the camera.

“What are you doing?” Ash waves an arm at him, frowning. She texted Tessie before she boarded the flight, but she hasn’t given her the details of the conversation she and Nathaniel had last night. “Get out of here.”

Nathaniel smirks. “Hiding me already?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She holds a finger to her mouth. He rolls his eyes.

Exhaling a hard breath, she pivots her position, then swipes Accept.

“Hi,” Tessie chirps. She’s in bed, as beautiful as ever, a book balanced on her belly. “You made it home.”

“We did.” Her heart pounds against her chest. “I mean I did.”

To her right, Nathaniel rolls his eyes and mouths smooth .

Ash glares murder at him.

“Are you okay?” Tessie asks, her brow pulled low in confusion.

“I am.” Ash forces a smile. “Are you?”

“No. I am on strict nonmoving orders.”

“From who? The doctor?”

“No. Solomon. He won’t let me out of bed.” She smiles. The look is full of love and amusement and annoyance. “So entertain me. Tell me everything about Nathaniel. Did you get one last vacation lay in?”

Ash flushes. Nathaniel leans against the wall, smug. Arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Well?

She shakes her head. “It actually, uh, didn’t end like I thought it would. I kinda, maybe, sorta smuggled something back with me.”

Tessie wrinkles her nose. “Can you do that? I thought that was illegal?”

“No.” Ash lets out a breath. “Nathaniel. I smuggled Nathaniel back.”

An ear-splitting shriek pierces her ear drum. Tessie’s phone tilts, then lands with a muffled thud on the comforter.

Solomon’s rushed boot steps echo through the phone, his panicked baritone of a boom. “Tess?”

The phone’s righted. Tessie’s laughing, waving Solomon off. “ It’s okay. I’m okay.” Returning to the camera, she jabs a manicured nail at Ash. “I demand proof of life.”

Solomon appears on the screen. Scowls. “You know what? I’d like to see him too.”

“But I get to interrogate him,” Tessie argues.

Ash tosses her head back and groans. “No one’s interrogating anyone.”

Tessie levels Ash with a look. “Show me.”

Eyes flicking to Nathaniel, Ash nods her affirmation. Then she turns back to her cousin. “You’re a pregnant pain in my ass.”

Tessie sticks her tongue out.

Nathaniel steps up beside her. “Hi.”

Ash’s face flushes as he curls a big hand around her neck. The touch of him is calming. It’s the perfect reminder to her mind, her heart, that she’s made the right decision. Because she’s obscenely, disgustingly happy. All her emotions are screaming at her to admit it. That she’s down bad for this man.

“Oh my God.” Delight shines in Tessie’s wide brown eyes. She waves. “Hi.”

“He lives, he breathes, he annoys. He is Nathaniel Whitford.” Smirking, Ash shrugs. “He’s obsessed with me, so I kept him.”

Nathaniel laughs and kisses her shoulder. “She isn’t wrong.”

Despite her cavalier words, she can’t keep the stupid smile off her face. Now that everyone knows about them, it feels too good to be true.

Tessie’s eyes narrow. “What are your intentions with my cousin?”

A grunt of agreement from Solomon.

“Tessie. Stop,” Ash commands, covering her face. To Nathaniel she says, “She’s an angel among us, but she doesn’t know much about minding her own business.”

Nathaniel chuckles.

“Ash,” Tessie breathes. “The universe did its thing.”

Her face heats. “Yeah,” she says, looking up at Nathaniel. “It did.”

Life. It just happens.

They spend the next week together, doing Ash’s choice of activities around Los Angeles. She takes Nathaniel to her favorite five-dollar theater, where they watch a double feature. Frankenstein and Frankenstein’s Bride .

They buy popsicles on Venice Beach and pay too much for mushrooms at the farmers’ market. Nathaniel helps her fix a broken table leg that she’s been putting off since the last blackout. They meet Augustus for patty melts at his favorite greasy diner, Lancers. Drive him to his weekly doctor appointment, where they learn about his next steps. They meet her parents too. Her mother pulls out baby photos. Her father his trains. Nathaniel’s a good sport. They talk travel and coconut cakes, and at the end of the night, her mother is mouthing we love him from the porch, and Ash has to lasso the giddiness blooming beneath her skin and control it.

They do the tedious, boring things like picking up her insulin at the pharmacy or grocery shopping. Then there are the lovely glimmers of happy. Eating dinner in Ash’s tiny kitchen, watching the sunset from her patio with ice-cold glasses of wine, making love at midnight and in the early hours of the morning when a lilac dawn is just breaking.

It’s not paradise. Not anymore.

It’s normal life stuff, and, somewhat shockingly, it’s just as nice.

Better even. Because it’s real.

On day four, Ash gives Nathaniel an unofficial tour of Hollywood Forever Cemetery. She tells him about the old Hollywood actresses, points out the almost unnoticeable grave of aspiring actress Virginia Rappe and tells him the chilling tale of her death.

Afterward, they go to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel for drinks.

“This is my absolute favorite spot in LA.” She tugs him into the lobby. “Overpriced drinks and celebrity sightings. ”

He leans into her, curling an arm around her shoulders. “How many ghosts?” His warm breath sends shivers down her spine.

She laughs, delighted. “Not ghosts, the ghost,” she recounts spookily. “Marilyn Monroe lived here for two years. They say she still haunts room 1200.”

They claim a seat at the Rosy Café at the Tropicana Bar and order bar bites and cocktails. Surrounded by lush greenery, they have a prime view of the art deco pool and its eclectic crowd. A poolside DJ spins the latest hits at ear-blasting decibels.

Nathaniel looks perfectly placed, perfectly sexy in his casual slacks and linen shirt with the cuffs rolled up. His devastatingly beautiful face carves up her heart a little more each day.

“Feels like I’m back in Hawaii,” Nathaniel murmurs, scanning the space.

“I miss it,” she says. “I didn’t think I would, but I do.”

He reaches across the table and links his long fingers with hers. His eyes darken as he looks at her. “We’ll go back.”

She swallows back the lump forming in her throat. “We will?”

“Or we can try someplace new. Whatever you want.”

His promise eases the uncertainty that plagues her when she thinks about what happens after this. Nothing to misunderstand about that statement. They’re together.

“What if, after this, we go back to your place and pack a bag? Go to my place.”

“See how Doctor Nathaniel Whitford lives?” Ash teases. “I picture your entire place wallpapered with scrubs. Maybe a jar of hearts on the mantel.”

He smiles, but he’s visibly distracted with checking his phone. He’s been that way since the cemetery. Checking it like he’s waiting for a text or a call.

A pit opens in her stomach. A reminder that this is all still temporary. In a week, he could be on his way to the North Sea. Aside from these next few days, they haven’t discussed how this will work. If it will .

If I love you is in their vocabulary.

She’s practiced. Saying it in front of the mirror in the middle of the night while Nathaniel sleeps. It should be easy. Let’s do this. Let’s do this forever. Let’s tell the universe that we are in love. But the words stick.

Brows bunched, Ash asks, “Everything okay?”

He nods, running a hand over his flexing jaw. Inhaling a hard breath, he leans in, as if he’s about to tell her something, but he’s interrupted by another voice.

“Ash?”

She stiffens. The sound cuts through her like a knife. Rocking her with memories she’d rather set on fire.

Nathaniel sees her expression and tightens his hold on her.

Jakob. He’s walking toward her, coming from the pool bar. Her stomach dips, knots, flames.

No fucking way.

The bright smile on his face confuses her, pisses her off. Reminds her that he’s a forever gaslighter. Reminds her of the text he sent her two weeks after she ended things. The message that said “can we be cool?”

The fucking audacity.

Quickly, she stands. The last thing she wants is for Jakob to get the wrong idea and sit down. Nathaniel follows suit. He pulls up alongside her. Tall, towering. She’s vaguely aware he’s moved closer to her, his warm palm splayed over the small of her back. His shoulder-to-shoulder solidarity a welcome comfort.

She looks up at him. He’s already watching her.

Suddenly, the adrenaline, the anger tearing through her like a cyclone, just…

Quiets.

Every lawless emotion inside her has turned off. All she feels is nothing. Nathaniel’s presence cancels out Jakob. Every little awful thing he ever did to her, all the ways he made her feel bad…gone.

It’s all just gone .

He’s just Jakob, and she’s just Ash. They no longer exist in the same universe.

“Ash! How the hell are you?” Jakob comes to a stop in front of her. The dimple in his cheek deepens as he smiles, then rocks back on his heels. “I saw the hair, and I knew that was you.”

“Jakob,” she says, making herself smile. “Hi.”

“Holy shit. I don’t believe this. It’s so good to see you.” His gaze skims her body for a second too long, then bounces back to her face.

Beside her, Nathaniel stiffens.

“You look phenomenal,” Jakob says. He drags a hand down his smooth jaw. “Jesus. I mean, really, really great. I swear, you’ve never looked better than you do right now.”

Because of Nathaniel .

Keeping her well fucked and well loved.

“Thanks, I just got back from Hawaii.” She looks up. “This is Nathaniel. He’s my—”

“Boyfriend,” he cuts in, causing something warm and gooey to flutter in her stomach. Nathaniel’s upper lip curls. “And you must be Jakob.”

His cold, stern tone, the steel posture of his body say it all. He knows about Jakob and is unimpressed.

Jakob looks taken aback, but he recovers quickly. He nods. “Nice to meet you, man.”

When Nathaniel doesn’t return the sentiment, her ex turns his attention back to her. She tries not to feel smug when he zeroes in on their linked fingers, the way Nathaniel has her hand cupped in his and held at his ribs.

Ash dares herself to ask. “How’s Keleigh?”

Her ex drags an almost-sheepish hand through his hair. “I, uh, wouldn’t know. We ended things last year.”

“Oh.” She grits her teeth against the smug smile that wants to take over her face. “Sorry to hear it.”

Jakob extends a hand. Touches her elbow .

In her periphery, she can see Nathaniel’s face tightening. He looks murderous.

“So what’s new in your world?” Jakob asks. “You still doing your little side businesses?”

Little .

Asshole.

“Or whatever.” He gives Nathaniel a look like the two of them are in on some inside joke that only the manliest men would understand. “I swear, this girl always had a hand in something. Am I right?”

She opens her mouth to light him up with her flamethrower tongue. Only Nathaniel gets there before she can.

“You sure have a lot to say for someone who’s currently unemployed.” Nathaniel says it evenly, but his flinty gaze holds that stern, cold edge she’s come to understand means business.

Eyes wide and her heart rate picking up, she looks at the man beside her. This is the first she’s hearing of it. Apparently, he’s done his research.

Jakob, pink-cheeked, holds up his hands. “Hey, man. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Good.” In one smooth move, Nathaniel opens his wallet and tosses two hundred-dollar bills on the table. His eyes are the blackest she’s ever seen them. “Ash has her own business. She’s top tier at her profession.”

The smile on Jakob’s face flatlines. “Oh, well. Glad to hear it.”

Tension cements the air. Ash resists the urge to chew a nail. She looks from one man to the other, her eyes bouncing like a pinball. She shouldn’t like it as much as she does. Two grown men swinging their dicks. But the way Nathaniel is sticking up for her? It’s distracting and, if she’s honest, incredibly romantic.

Solidarity, support. It’s a comfort she’s never known with a man.

Her heart swells.

“And you?” Ash asks, smiling bright. “You still shitting out your alt-lit novels? Trying to get published?” She can’t resist the dig .

Jakob makes a guttural noise of disagreement. “It wasn’t bullshit, but, uh, think what you want.”

“Oh, I will.” She lets out a shallow laugh. Grabs her purse. “Have a nice life, Jakob.”

Chin up, she tugs on Nathaniel’s hand. They march out of the pool area.

Minutes pass before they speak again. Her mind is spinning. Nathaniel pulls her to a stop in the narrow alleyway that links the pool to the lobby.

In the shadows, he’s all hard angles, tense muscles, a pulsing jaw. “Little fucking prick,” he mutters. Anger’s entrenched in his eyes. “You’ve never looked better than you do right now.” Agitated, he shoves up his sleeves, glares over his shoulder. “Let me go back and disembowel that guy.”

His protectiveness has her swooning.

“No.” She slides her palm up his chest. “Not disembowel. The pool’s perfect for a public drowning.”

Nathaniel bursts out laughing.

Flattening her palm on his chest, Ash narrows her eyes. Tilts her head. “Tell me how you know he’s unemployed.”

“Here’s a truth.” Nathaniel takes her chin between his long fingers. A triumphant gleam enters his eyes. “I’m low-key petty. If you thought for one second that I wouldn’t keep track of the asshole who hurt you, you’re wrong.”

A warmth sweeps through her body as his gaze lands on her lips. He always knows the right thing to say. To do.

She loves this man. God, does she love him.

Smiling, Ash loops her arms around his neck. “Did I ever tell you vengeance turns me on?”

“Then I better get you home,” he says. And then he’s inhaling her. Devouring her with a mind-melting, panty-dropping kiss that sends her into a whole new orbit.

“Yes,” she murmurs against his lips. “Home.”