Page 75 of The Lilac River

“Come on,” Wilder urged. “Let’s get you situated at the table and then I’ll get you that drink.” I was quickly shuffled into the chair next to Bertie with a firm hand on my shoulder. “Sit and enjoy.” He winked at me and went over to the refrigerator.

“Good day at the office?” Gunner grinned as he propped his ass on the edge of the table. “You look like you kinda had a day.” He reached forward and wiped something off my cheek. When he showed it to me I saw that it was glitter. “You have a little red paint in your hair, too.”

“Oh no.” Bertie buried her head in her hands. “Did I miss arts and crafts? Sugar.”

“Bertie,” Nash warned without turning around.

“What? I said sugar not the other sh word. Not the one you three use.”

“Still means the same thing, munchkin.” His voice was a deep rumble but there was no hardness to it. In fact, his brand of grumpy tenderness made my stomach clench with want.

“Sorry, Daddy.” She then turned to me. “Did I miss arts and crafts Miss. Gray?”

Her dejection was coupled with a pouty lip, and she looked adorable. So much like her Dad and I really didn’t want to rain on her parade. “No, Bertie. It was math. We used Playing Cards. The glitter and paint was me and Miss. Turner making posters for the Summer Fair.” I lied, risking a glance at Nash. “It’s for a Kissing Booth.”

His back stiffened, but then I noticed a little shake of his shoulders and knew he was laughing.

“Ugh.” Bertie grimaced. “You won’t find me paying to kiss anyone.”

Wilder chuckled as he sat opposite me. “Give it a few years, Bertie.”

“Many years,” Nash added. “Many, many, years.”

“You need someone for that?” Gunner asked me. “Because Wilder will do it for you.”

“Or maybe," Bertie said with the wisdom of an eight-year-old philosopher, "Miss. Gray could work the kissing booth at the fair!"

Gunner whooped. "I’d pay to kiss her."

Before I could die on the spot, Nash’s voice cut through the laughter.

"If anyone’s kissing Miss. Gray," he said, his voice low and rough, "it’s not gonna be you."

Silence.

Time froze.

He cleared his throat. "I mean…I don’t think she should man the booth. Obviously."

Bertie rolled her eyes. "You’re so awkward, Daddy."

The room erupted in laughter. Even Nash chuckled, scrubbing a hand down his face.

And I...I felt like my heart had cracked open.

Dinner felt like an out-of-body experience. Bertie’s chatter filled the space, flitting from art projects to unicorn theories to the Tooth Fairy’s inflation rate. Gunner and Wilder bantered like only brothers could, while Nash stayed mostly silent, eating slowly, listening.

But every now and then, I caught his gaze on me. Warm. Sad. Full of questions.

Then, later, once the dishes were done and Bertie had been sent to get ready for bed, I stood. "I should go."

Gunner raised his beer. "Come back anytime."

Wilder smirked. "Or just leave more personal belongings behind."

But Nash didn’t say anything. Just stood there, arms folded, watching.

Having said my goodbyes, I stepped outside; the sky painted in twilight. Lavender scent on the breeze. Everything felt too quiet.

---