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He chewed while his phone started to vibrate over and over again on the table between us, but he didn’t reach to answer it.
“You should just allow them to think that we’re married.”
His brows rose. “Why?”
“It’s better to have this in the media than the cancer, right?” I asked curiously. “You were just telling me that you were worried about the media.”
He leaned back against the booth, his gaze going around the area for a few long seconds before he felt safe enough to talk. “I guess it’s better than them knowing. But this isn’t going to be something that’s easy. It’ll throw you in the spotlight.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “You do realize that I have a sister married to Slone, who is the star of the Longview Liners, right?”
He shrugged.
“And then there’s Crimson, who’s married to a billionaire. One of Dallas’s most eligible bachelors—though I did notice that you beat him out of the number one spot last year. Congrats,” I teased.
He grumbled something under his breath.
“So yes, at this point, I can more than put up with the spotlight, based solely on having to do it already,” I added. “I’ve had to deal with this since Titus King—Slone’s best friend—came to visit and brought his whole fan club with him for eighteen blocks before stopping in front of Coffey’s food trailer. Which, might I add, has also gotten incredibly popular because of those two shouting about it from the rooftops.”
“You’ve never met my fans, though,” he countered. “They’re nuts.”
“Well, how about you let me be the judge of that,” I suggested. “In the meantime, use me. I don’t care.”
His eyes went intense when he said, “I won’t use you.”
“Well, how about you promise to give me a ride anywhere I want to go if I have another important errand?” I asked.
He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “I’ll take you as long as I’m able.”
“So that’s a yes?” I asked.
“That’s a possible yes. We’ll see how all of this goes.”
My lips turned up at the corners as he finished off his burger.
I’d already mostly finished mine.
“I’ll take note of that,” he said as he started gathering the wrappers and cups.
My phone started to ring, so I answered it as I got up and threw our trash away.
“You’re getting married to Nash?” Val demanded.
My eye started to twitch.
“You know better than to trust the media,” I chided. “And it’s an understanding, if it makes any difference to you.”
“I’m not sure that sounds any better. Be careful, Zipporah. This might get bigger that even you can bullshit your way out of,” she said just before she hung up.
Anger pierced me at her words.
Like usual, she thought I’d screw everything up. That was just how she rolled. Assuming I’d be a fuck up my entire life.
I shoved my phone in the pocket of my sweats, angry and hurt, then turned around to nearly run straight into Nash.
“Okay?” he asked, steadying me.
His eyes were intense, though. As if he knew that my sister had said something that I hadn’t taken very well.
“Good,” I confirmed, lying through my teeth.
If there was one thing for certain, no matter how badly my siblings hurt me, they’d always be my family.
“Which sister was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“That was Val,” I said. “I’m sure all of them will know in the next three minutes.”
Of course, I was right.
As Nash drove us back home, a new group chat had started, by Winston of all people. And Nash was included in that group chat.
Winston: Welcome to the family, Nash. Hope you like it in hell.
I burst out laughing, which startled Nash. “What is it?”
I rolled my eyes, then texted back without answering him.
Me: What does it say about you that you actually enjoy it here? Mr. Big Bucks lowering himself to the plebeian lifestyle?
“Tell me,” Nash ordered.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as the texts just started rolling in, one after the other.
“Winston created a group chat and he’s welcoming you to the family,” I explained, watching his mouth quirk up at the corner. “It’s official now. You can’t back out.”
He glanced at me, catching me side-eying him, and said, “Maybe this isn’t…”
“Don’t fight it,” I said. “Why aren’t you getting any of these texts? Also, I’m just assuming that this number in my phone is yours, since I don’t actually have it. Will you have to change your number when we ‘break up’?”
He did this look over his shoulder thing, then gunned it to get onto the interstate.
I watched as his hands tightened on the wheel expertly, the power in his truck as he took off throwing me back against the seat. My soul practically sang. I may not want to accelerate like that for myself, but I had no fears when it came to Nash.
