Page 81 of The Rest is History

“Good morning, Ash,” he says hesitantly.

Ash returns the kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.”

He wrings his hands together. “Is this okay?” He gestures vaguely at us.

“I have no complaints,” I say.

“Last night was amazing,” Ash says. “Was it good for you?”

He nods shyly.

“We should do it again,” I murmur.

Reece widens his eyes, but he answers, “Yes.”

I kiss him again. “Great. Now come have some coffee.”

We eat breakfast together for the first time and, other than the day I married Asher, nothing else has ever felt this right. This new reality emerging between us doesn’t scare me. I want this with them, and I understand and am prepared for the complicatedness of it. I don’t understand the details and the intricacies of it yet, but we can’t understand everything all at once. All I know right this second is that this – eating breakfast with them – is right. Last night was right.

“My mom wants to see you,” Asher says.

Reece looks horrified. But we know it’s not that he doesn’t want to see her. Shame is a powerful thing, I guess.

“She’s the most understanding person in the world,” I say. “You know that better than me.”

He nods mutely. “Okay,” he says, and I like how brave he’s being.

Chapter 38

Reece

Sawyer is going to see Pippin. He doesn’t provide many details. I almost ask if I can go with him so I can see Ezra, but he doesn’t offer. So, I don’t ask. I hate that I don’t know anything about his family but there’s a stone wall; I can feel it. In any case, Asher is taking me to see his mom.

Sawyer’s truck disappears down the road. I climb into Asher’s car and strap in. He gets into the driver’s seat, and within minutes we’re on the highway.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“I am. But that can’t stop me from seeing her again, right?”

“Right. She’s excited to see you.”

“Does she know about us?” I ask.

Asher takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. “Yeah. Would you have preferred that she not know?”

I shake my head. “We never kept anything from her. Why start now?”

He smiles. “You’re right. She loved you so much.”

“You liked how much she loved me.” The memories these days are easier to face. I can think about them now without as much guilt as I used to.

“I still do. She was a good mother to us.”

I turn fully to him. “What did she say when you told her?”

“She said it was strange, but love is wonderful in all its forms.”

“She’s right.” But my head is stuck on . . . love?

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