“Huh?” Lucy asks.
“Have you left for Charleston yet?”
“No.”
“Good, because I want to come with you,” I explain.
“Why?” she asks, which catches me off-guard. I thought she would jump at the idea of having someone go with her to the shitshow where she has to see her ex-boyfriend marry her own damn cousin, all while pretending she’s over him. And I could possibly distract her by picking up where things left off in my apartment.
“Moral support?” I offer. Again, nothing but silence as I check the time counter on the screen as it ticks on and on. “Lucy?”
“I…I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Nash.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t!”
“Come on, Lucy! You’ve been dreading this wedding for weeks. If you want, you can tell everyone I’m your date, rub it in that asshole’s face to show him you’re over him, even if you’re not…”
“Fucking hell,” Malcolm grumbles from behind me, obviously eavesdropping.
“I don’t know…” she says, still not sold on the idea.
“Please, Lucy. I really, really need to get out of town this weekend.”
“And why is that?” she asks.
“Take me with you, and maybe I’ll tell you,” I reply even though there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell this sweet girl about the possible murder charges coming at me.
Her sigh is so heavy I can hear it over the wind and waves crashing along the pier.
“I’m getting ready to leave and you’re not home. When are you coming back?”
“Ah, well, I’m sort of tied up at the moment,” I lie. “Do you think you could go up to my apartment and just throw whatever you think I’ll need in a bag for me, then swing by and pick me up?”
“Yeah, I, um, I guess so. Pick you up where?”
Fuck, that’s a good question. No place like the present. “Do you know where the pier is on Canal Drive?”
“What are you doing at the pier?”
“Ah, you know, just doing a little fishing with the guys.”
“Fishing? Malcolm called and you had to leave in a hurry to go fishing with him?” Lucy throws back at me with heavy skepticism in her voice. The girl is smart, and I hate feeding her bullshit, but what choice do I have? If I tell her what happened, what I did and could be going to jail for soon, she would never speak to me again, much less let me tag along with her this weekend. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being away from her for an entire weekend when I’ve gotten used to seeing her several times a day lately.
“Look, I’m sorry to be such a pain in the ass,” I tell her truthfully. “Will you grab my things and come pick me up so I can go with you? You know you’ll have more fun if I’m there with you.”
“Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I pack your bag,” she says with another heavy sigh.
“Thank you,” I say in relief. “See you then.”
“She coming?” Malcolm asks as soon as I go over and hand his phone back to him.
“Yeah, she is.”
“Good, I guess. Leave your bike here, and I’ll have someone give me a ride over later so I can stash it at my place.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “I guess you should call Lucy on her cell if you hear anything the next few days.”
“I will.”
“How often do the two of you talk?” I ask, only a smidge jealous since I know Malcolm is a hundred percent loyal to Naomi.
“As much as we need to,” he answers with a smirk. “Call me if your plans change this weekend and you decide not to head to Charleston.”
“The wedding’s in Charleston. Why would our plans change?”
“Just in case,” he mutters, shrugging his shoulders.
Chapter Sixteen
Lucy
* * *
Pack me a bag. Come pick me up. Take me to the wedding.
Nash better be glad I have a serious soft spot for him. If I had any sense, I would have hightailed it out of here without a second thought and hoped to never speak to him again. But what if this weekend is the last time I’ll get to see him for possibly years?
No matter what he’s done, I trust Jetta when she said Nash had a good reason for doing what he did. Hopefully, he’ll even open up and tell me about it since we’ll be spending the next three and a half days together. I’m just not sure if taking him to the wedding is the best idea.
The more I think about it as I pack him a bag with several jeans and tees, some boardshorts and boxer briefs, along with the one pair of dark slacks and white button up in his closet, the more I’m certain that I should talk him into heading someplace else for the weekend.
That’s why, as soon as he sits down in the passenger side of my Prius with a forced smile on his face, not giving away any sort of visible signs that he’s up shit creek without a paddle, I tell him so. “What if we just ditch the wedding and go to Myrtle Beach or something?”
His smile falls, and he removes his sunglasses to look me in the eye.
“There’s a beach right there,” he says, pointing to the ocean. “Why would I want to drive down to another one for the weekend? You’ve got the wedding…”
“I’m not sure if we should go. In fact, I think we would both be better off just blowing it off.”
“No way!” he exclaims. “You can’t blow this off. If you don’t show up, he’ll think you aren’t over him, right? Isn’t that what you said the other day?”
“Yes, but…”
“But nothing! Suck it up and drive so you can face these fuckers and prove you’re better off and they can kiss your ass,” Nash says as he slides his sunglasses back on his face and stares straight ahead, waiting.
“Nash…there’s something I really need to tell you,” I start.
“Fine, tell me as you drive us to Charleston.”
“You don’t want to go to this wedding. Trust me, Nash.”
“Oh, we’re going to this wedding, and I’m your date. If you want, I will spend the entire fucking weekend with my tongue shoved down your throat. Bet your ex will be jealous as shit. He’ll regret the day he hurt you.”
Oh wow. This, his sex appeal, is exactly why I seem to be able to push aside the fact that Nash is a suspect in multiple murders and agree to go on a road trip with him. I’m so weak for him, it’s pathetic. I want everything he said – a weekend with his tongue down my throat even if he doesn’t ever want more with me. I’m afraid Nash’s hourglass of freedom is running out of sand, and I’m dreading the day very soon when that happens.
“So, I guess we’re going to the wedding,” I say.
“Damn right we are.”
“If we get there and you change your mind, we can leave,” I promise him.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” Nash says confidently.
If I had to bet, he’ll be backing out of that promise before the end of the night.