Small Town Pretender by Brighton Walsh

Asher never thought he’d miss sharing a bed with someone. Especially when that someone was Nat, who hogged the bed and the covers, and used his legs as her toes’ personal warming station. But he couldn’t deny it was true.

For more than an hour, he’d lain there, in the bed they’d shared, on the pillow that still smelled like her, his mind turning over everything she’d said. Her body language had been off, her words hadn’t been right… He’d never seen her fake a smile for him, but he was sure she’d done it tonight.

His phone buzzed with an incoming call, and he grabbed it, hoping it was Nat. Instead, Nash’s face stared up at him from the screen. He blew out a sigh and closed his eyes, knowing exactly how this was going to go. He’d want to know if Asher had bucked up and talked to Nat, told her how he was feeling.

No. No, he absolutely had not. He could’ve, when she’d asked him about the song he’d been playing, with lyrics he’d written about her. Or when they’d started talking about what they were going to do now that the hearing was over. But nope. He couldn’t bring himself to when he already knew where she stood.

The call clicked over to voice mail, and fifteen seconds later, it buzzed with a text.

Pick up, asshole.

He hadn’t even finished reading the message before the phone buzzed again. From experience, he knew Nash would keep this up for hours if he needed to. Which meant Asher should just skip ahead, avoid a lot of irritation, and answer now.

“What?”

“Is it true you told her it was time for her to go?”

He blew out a heavy sigh. At least she hadn’t led with him suggesting divorce. “That wasn’t exactly what I said, but it doesn’t change that it is time.”

The line was silent for long moments before Nash said, “And that was it?”

“What else was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe, Nat, I love you? Please stay?”

“Why the hell would I ask her to do that when she wants to leave? She loves her job and she loves not bein’ stuck in one place and she loves—”

“You, you jackass.”

“You read it wrong, Nash.”

He huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Right. You didn’t see her when she came over here, but somehow I got it wrong. Look, I’m gonna give you a little more leeway than I would any other guy who broke her heart—”

“Her heart’s not—”

“Shut up. I told you earlier you needed to figure out how this could work, and I meant it. I’ve got a chance to have both my best friends here again, at least some of the time, and I’d appreciate it if you assholes didn’t ruin it for me.”

“What the hell am I supposed to figure out, Nash? She doesn’t belong here.”

“Then maybe you don’t either.”

“You know it’s not just about me anymore.”

“I know, but don’t try to tell me those kids don’t love her, too.” He was quiet for long moments and then finally said, “Thought you should know I’m drivin’ your wife to the airport tomorrow. Figure this shit out, Asher.”

And then the bastard hung up on him.

Figure it out. Right. Like it was so easy. If it were just him and Nat, it would be. They could city-hop all over the world, never staying in a place for more than two days for all he cared if it meant he’d be with her. But it wasn’t just the two of them anymore, and they never would’ve become a them if it weren’t for the kids who were now his.

He lost track of time as he lay there, tossing and turning and trying to sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw that flash of hurt he’d sworn he’d seen in hers when he’d told her she could leave whenever she wanted. He saw that damn fake smile. Even when June had migrated in during the night for a snuggle, it hadn’t been enough to keep his mind occupied.

June didn’t always slip in during the night, but it had happened enough that he hated how much room there was in the bed. Hated that his fingers weren’t linked with Nat’s. Hated that their eyes weren’t meeting over the tops of the kids’ heads. Hated that she wasn’t there to talk about absolutely nothing with him until he finally fell asleep.

He had no idea how to do this without her. Worse, he didn’t want to. The only way he’d been able to manage any of it had been because she’d been by his side. Not because she’d done things for him—if anything, they’d screwed up right alongside each other—but rather, because she’d never doubted him for a second. Never doubted that he was the best place for June and Owen, though he’d doubted plenty enough for both of them.

He hadn’t even had time to come to grips with it, really. He’d assumed they’d at least have until the original flight she’d had scheduled, but instead, she’d packed her bags, written a note for June, and had been out the door fifteen minutes later.

If that wasn’t answer enough about whether or not she’d been itching to flee, he didn’t know what was. She couldn’t have said it louder than if she’d chartered a helicopter to land in their backyard and whisk her off to the airport even faster.

He must’ve dozed off at some point because he woke to Owen’s babbles on the baby monitor and June bouncing on the bed.

“Uncle Asher, Nat promised us aminal pancakes, remember?” June said, her face an inch from his. “Where is she?”

Great, so he wasn’t even going to be able to get his synapses firing with a cup of coffee before he had to have this conversation.

“Hello to you, too, Junebug. Nat had to leave a little early for a photo shoot, so I’ll be makin’ your pancakes this mornin’.”

“Did she teach you how?” she asked with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “’Cause she makes them how I like.”

No, she hadn’t. Animal-shaped pancakes had been the last thing on his mind, but at least they were something he could figure out. Far easier than what had been churning in his mind all night.

“Why don’t you go get dressed, and we’ll see how I do.”

After grabbing Owen from his crib—and throwing in a morning load of laundry thanks to another diaper leak—he did his best making the animal shapes Nat did without any kind of mold. He managed slugs and a sad-looking snake, neither of which June was too impressed with, when the doorbell rang.

His heart soared for half a second before he shook himself. On the off chance Nat had come back, she sure as hell wouldn’t ring the doorbell.

Though he knew it was a long shot that she’d be there, his hopes still sank when it wasn’t her standing on the other side of the door. Instead, Misty, the photographer Rory had hired for his and Nat’s wedding, smiled at him from the front step.

“Hi, Asher. Sorry to come by so early, but I wanted to drop this off for you and Nat. I got it done a bit sooner than expected.” She handed him a flat white box. “It’s your wedding album.”

* * *

He was pretty surethe last thing he needed to be doing right now was looking at wedding pictures from a wedding that wasn’t real, shouldn’t have happened, and would be nullified soon enough. Especially when that wedding was between him and the woman he loved, who was no doubt already on her way to the airport in an effort to flee as fast as possible.

But still, when Owen was down for his morning nap and June was occupied with an episode of Backyardigans, he couldn’t help himself.

Their wedding day seemed so long ago now, back when he didn’t know every intimate secret about her. Back before he’d actually fallen completely in love with her. But even back then, they’d had chemistry that couldn’t be faked because it showed up even in the photos.

He’d looked through all the pictures, but kept coming back to one. His arms were wrapped around her from behind, and their faces were turned toward each other. It looked like they were sharing a secret between just the two of them—he was pretty sure it’d been one of the hundred times she’d ragged on the photographer.

He loved that he’d known all her secrets before he’d fallen for her, just like she knew his. There’d never been an awkward stage, a getting-to-know-you stage, a does-she-like-me stage. They’d dived into this marriage the way they’d done everything else in their lives—headfirst, without worrying about consequences.

It may have started off as a means to an end, but it’d ended in a whole new place. And in that new place, he was in love with her.

That still didn’t change the fact that she was leaving and he couldn’t.

With a quiet groan, he closed his eyes, seeing that image of him and Nat as he replayed Nash’s words from last night. He wanted nothing more than to figure out how to make this work. To find a way for him and Nat to be together so it didn’t take her away from what she loved.

Jolting upright, he snapped his eyes open as memories of his talk with Gran suddenly popped into his mind. It didn’t have to be all or nothing with them. They’d managed to make everything else work—managed to maintain a friendship that spanned not only decades but thousands of miles, the two of them rarely, if ever, in the same location more than a day or two at a time.

Why the hell did he think they wouldn’t be able to do this, too?

He grabbed his phone and typed out a quick text to Nash, hoping he hadn’t already dropped her at the airport.

Is she gone?

Nash’s reply came moments later. Not yet, but she’s getting pissed at me for stalling. Get your ass in gear.

A relieved breath left him in a whoosh. He’d let her get on that plane as long as she did it after she knew where they stood. After he laid everything on the line. After she knew he was in love with her.