Page 57 of Nash

“Yes, I got a message from the shop. I’ll go by in a day or so to get fitted.”

“Perfect,” she says. “Is my dad there?”

“Uh…,” I stammer.

“I need to ask about his suit.”

“Yes.” I clear my throat, sitting up straight. “He’s here. He’s our accountant. He’s just auditing the mess I made of the books because I suck at math, and the software confused me and?—”

“Okay, well, can you put him on, please?”

Alena doesn’t care as I overthink and overexplain, trying not to sound guilty.

“Sure. Here he is. We’re just at my desk. We’re just doing the accounting and?—”

“Give me that,” Nash mutters, gently taking my phone away.

“Hey, sweetpea.” He smiles at Alena on the screen, telling her, “Don’t worry. I have a tux. I have two actually and?—”

“Dad, I don’t want you wearing a tux. I don’t do formal stuff. I want the men in navy suits.”

“Navy?” He resists, “That’s not my style.”

So, I snap, “Uh.Whosewedding is it?”

Nash smiles at me, licking his lips before he tells her, “According to your maid-of-honor, I’ll be wearing a navy suit with a smile.”

“Dad,” she laughs, “you know better than to fuck with Vale.”

If I had coffee in my mouth, I’d spew the desk with it.

Instead, my eyes get wide and flooded with guilt as Nash sits up, clearing his throat. “Yes, well,” he rushes. “Whatever you want. It’s navy suits for all.”

For all?

Suddenly, I’m curious. I haven’t asked who the groomsmen are. Alena said Loch has brothers. If it’s them, okay, but I still haven’t met them. And that’s still sketch.

The wedding is in July. It’s May. So, when Nash hands my phone back to me, I ask her, “So, who’s the lucky man walking me down the aisle?”

I glance over to find Nash glaring at my question.

“Since I don’t want anything big or fancy,” Alena answers, “and I only want you and Blair in my bridal party; Loch said he can’t pick between his five brothers, and he never knew his father, so my dad and godfather will be the groomsmen.”

“Yourgodfather?” I’m puzzled. “When did you get one of those?”

“When she was nine,” Nash answers for her. “When she was baptized. Her mom and I didn’t do it when she was an infant, but Lainey wanted it done before she was deployed and…”

He trails off. I know the rest of the story.

“And the pastor who baptized me will marry us, too,” Alena adds.

“Okay.” I shrug. “Who’s your godfather?”

“Michael Cummings,” Alena answers. “He’s my dad’s best friend. I don’t think you know him. Not yet, but the service will be simple and…”

She goes on about the ceremony as I fight so hard to keep my face straight when I’m dying to whip my glare at Nash and make laser beams shoot from my eyes until his head explodes.

Michael Cummings?Mr. Not-Mafia-Mafia, who has a forbidden meeting room on our third floor, is Alena’sgodfather?

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