For Better or Hearse

Chapter Forty

A fter Augustus’s, they stop at Nathaniel’s to grab his bags. Then they’re off to the airport.

Between his imminent departure and the phone call with Camellia, Ash is struggling to keep it together. She feels carved open. Raw. A great, gigantic, messy secret burrowing a hole in her gut.

But that’s the real world. Full of mess and exes and heartbreak.

Ash stands in the middle of his living room while Nathaniel retrieves his bags from the bedroom. A hollow ache builds in her gut.

“I was thinking—” Nathaniel returns and sets his bags down. Leans back against the counter. He crosses his tan arms, the sunlight from the window slipping across his hooded blue eyes.

The sight of him makes her go soft.

“What if,” he says, wearing a tentative frown, “we got a place together?”

She shakes her head. Clears her daze. “What?”

“Maybe I should have saved this conversation for when I return, but I don’t want to wait.” He sweeps a hand over her shoulder, kisses her throat. “My place is paid off. I can pay the fee to break your lease. Or we can keep it if you need a place to work.”

Her brain scrambles. Her throat closes up.

“There’s a house on the beach in Venice. Close enough to the ocean I bet we can hear it from the bedroom.” He grins, his face lighting up. “It’s ten minutes from a cemetery. But you can look too,” he tells her. “I trust you. All I care about when I get back is starting our life together.”

Her phone buzzes a warning on the table. She ignores it .

Palm cupping the back of her neck, he kisses her brow. “I like knowing you’re in my bed,” he teases. “Pining for me.”

She doesn’t smile. She can’t. All she wants to do is break down and bawl.

It sounds perfect. A life with Nathaniel. Beach walks, cemetery walks. Waking with him in the morning, going to sleep with him at night.

But it can’t be perfect. Not with this living, breathing thing called guilt. How can she do this? Move forward with him? Be in the now. She has to settle their pasts first. Her mess. It’s always her mess that comes back to bite her in the ass. If she doesn’t tell him now, he’ll only find out later, and she’ll lose him.

She can’t fuck with the integrity of her love for him. She owes him the truth.

“Ash?” He’s peering at her, confused.

Panic fizzes. Explodes.

“I can’t do this,” she blurts.

“It’s too fast,” he says slowly, patiently, even as a flash of fear crosses his face. “I get it.”

“No.” Her throat, the backs of her eyes burn. “It’s—it’s everything. But I’m not.”

His eyebrows slant low. “You’re not what? What are you talking about?”

“You can’t take care of me, Nathaniel. You don’t have to. It’s not your job.” She’s rambling. She can’t stop.

“Ash. Ashabelle, what is it?” He cups her face with those big, warm hands, sweeping his thumbs softly over her cheeks to banish the tears. “You’re scaring me.”

“I can’t do this anymore. I have to tell you the truth. I have to tell you who hired me.”

His shoulders tense. And with a sigh, he drops his hands. “I don’t need to know that. Not anymore.”

She backs away from him. “You do, you do. Because I can’t do this if you don’t know. You’re owed the truth, Nathaniel. If I keep it from you, I’m no better than Jakob.” She inhales a breath. “It was Camellia.”

He goes still.

So painfully still.

Ash gulps air. Her heart feels like it will combust any second. “She hired me. She gave me that photo. She knew it was Delaney. But I didn’t. And I—I did what I did. Because I’m an asshole.”

He stares at the ground, the strong line of his jaw pulsing. “You’re not an asshole.”

“Yes, I am. She hired me because she was too scared to do it herself. To tell you that she didn’t want to marry you.” She has to get it all out. Every last bit.

His head snaps up. The pain on his face is so visceral he looks like he’s been stabbed in the throat. “She said that?”

She licks her dry lips. She’s sweating. Ungodly amounts. God, what’s wrong with her?

“Yes. She said that.”

Utter silence.

Ash wipes her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sit.”

Her heart lurches at his stern tone. “What?”

“Sit down.”

She stands on shaky legs, wanting to go to him, but she’s just frozen. Unbalanced.

He looks at her over his shoulder, opens the fridge. “Ashabelle, would you fucking sit down? Please.”

Finally, she does. She covers her face, hiding from him as best as she can. “You’re upset.”

“I’m upset, yeah. But not at you. Your blood sugar’s low.” When she looks up, he’s setting a glass of juice in front of her. “Drink that.”

She brings the glass to her lips. Sips. Heat returns to her face.

Sweeping concerned eyes over her, he slides the chair back to sit beside her. Rests broad palms on the table. Those long fingers tan and perfectly shaped. “Listen to me. I’m in love with you. The past doesn’t matter. I don’t know whether you need to fucking hear it, but I forgive you for what you did.” He grasps her hand. “No more punishing yourself.”

She shakes free of his hold. “You say you forgive me, but what if you—”

He looks frustrated, amused. “I know my heart. Don’t tell me how I feel about you. Don’t shut down because you made one mistake.”

She takes another sip of juice, runs her thumb along the lip of the glass.

“It was a big mistake.”

“It wasn’t a—” He breaks off, blinking, his features contorting into pain. “Saying you breaking up my wedding was a mistake completely negates what we have. Don’t you fucking get that?”

She shakes her head, over and over. “I don’t know,” she mumbles.

He swallows. “You cannot be serious.”

Her voice is gone. Completely mute.

“Get that shit, get Jakob out of your head.” He’s angry now. Fury etched all over his handsome face. “I’m not upset about Camellia; I’m upset because you doubt us. I’m in this, Ash. I’m in love with you. And I don’t know why your morbid little brain won’t let you see it.”

She gives a humorless laugh. “Maybe it’s because I’m not right for you. Maybe you need someone else. Someone different.”

He stares at her, roughs a hand through his hair. “Don’t do that,” he says hoarsely. “Push me away.”

“I mean, can you see me as a doctor’s wife? Going to galas? Charity functions? Your father’s country club?” Ash breathes heavily. The walls are closing in. The doubt, the despair of losing Nathaniel in the future. It sideswipes every bit of rationality, joy, love.

“Ash— ”

“You need someone who wears pearl earrings. Who fits your family. Because I don’t.”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re doing it again. You’re taking away what you want because you’re scared,” he says, voice stricken. “Because you think I want something other than you. When you’ve never been more wrong in your life.”

Tears blur her vision. As she blinks them back, she takes in the stoic, masculine living room. Pieces of herself scattered around Nathaniel’s apartment. Her boots on the rug. A tea bag and a cold cup of tea on the coffee table. Scattered throw pillows from the night they fucked frantically until they both fell apart, gasping for air in each other’s arms.

Her anxiety has claws. The thorns in her chest ready to regrow, ready to rehome her heart, somewhere far away and dark.

Ash scrunches her eyes tight. Gulps air. Her head and heart throb.

Is she going to fuck all this up? Let her anxiety tell her that they never should have agreed to continue this? That she and Nathaniel should have left what they had in Hawaii?

It would be easy to be scared of this. To allow herself to push love away.

But she won’t.

She is better than her past. Better than her bullshit brain telling her lies.

“Ash? Beauty?”

She opens her eyes. Back to earth.

Back to them .

When she says nothing, Nathaniel threads his fingers through hers. Lifts the back of her hand to his lips. “You are more than your mess. You’re the love of my fucking life.” His blue eyes, full of hurt, are locked on hers, intent. “I wish you’d see that. I wish you would trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she promises. “More than anyone.”

Relief flashes on his face .

Eyes misty, stomach a ball of pure anxiety, Ash stands and climbs onto his lap. Fiercely, she wraps her arms around his neck, kisses the top of his hair. Inhales his scent. His love. The tight hold of his arms wrapped around her waist. The nerve of this perfect, stern man, sitting her down and talking it out.

“And you’re right. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m scared. I’m stupid.”

His voice is thick and scratchy. “You are.”

“I love you. I don’t mean to push you away.” She looks into his eyes. “I won’t. At least, I will try,” she amends. “So damn hard.”

He squeezes her tight. “I can live with that.”

She burrows her face against his neck. Whispers, “Did I ruin things?”

“No.” A light chuckle shakes them both. “Never.”

“Are you sure?”

“More than.” He pulls back to look her in the eye, his expression serious. “The sun will rise, and I will still love you tomorrow. Understand?”

She sighs and clings to him. “Yes.”

He kisses her shoulder. “We will be fine, Ashabelle.” He glances at his bags set by the front door. An unhappy noise escapes his lips. “I have to go.”

A deep ache spreads within her chest. “I know.” Ash blinks rapidly, tears lining her eyes. She squeezes him once more. “Please be careful. Come back to me.”

When she drives him to the airport sometime later, she waits until the helicopter takes flight, carrying Nathaniel off to the Sophia Marie .

She can still feel him.

Because he’s in the air. He’s everywhere.