Nash gives her an easy smile. “She was bound to turn up sooner or later. Thank you for defending me, Audrey. And for the fake pregnancy, June.”
“I know it’s petty and wrong to enjoy aggravating someone,” says Grandma. “But when it comes to her, I just can’t help myself. Do you think we’ll be seeing the media?”
“I don’t know.”
And now none of us are smiling.
“This is impossible,” says a deep familiar voice. “Just impossible.”
I follow it down the hallway to find Nash standing in the laundry surrounded by piles of clothes. And the expression on his handsome face is pure frustration.
“What’s wrong?”
“Audrey told me to sort the dirty laundry,” he says, in a tone suggesting he’s experiencing some sort of existential crisis. “Because obviously we wash them in groupings.”
“Right.”
“My first thought was function.” Hands on hips, he shakes his head. “Sleepwear, sportswear, intimate apparel, the things we wear during the day, and the nicer stuff we have on when we go to the bar. Then I wondered if she also meant type of material. Cotton, bamboo, silk, polyester and so on. But that made so many smaller piles within the larger piles. It got out of hand really quickly.”
“I can see that.”
“Back when I was young we’d just shove everything into a machine at the laundromat and hope for the best. This is much more intense.”
“Usually, you just sort them into light and dark colors.”
“Light and dark? That’s it?” he asks. “For fuck’s sake.”
I smile.
“Let’s move on,” he says, coming toward me with arms open wide. Then his strong arms wrap around me, and my face is mooshed against his hard chest. The man is holding me, and also, he smells ridiculously good. Salt and sage and something that’s just him. “There we go.”
“Nash, what are we doing?”
“I was thinking about you not being touchy-feely because you weren’t hugged enough.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay.”
His hold on me tightens. “Don’t fight it, June. I’m doing this for your own good.”
“What would Grandma say?”
“Hush now.”
I don’t mean to keep sniffing him, however, it’s kind of hard not to. He’s big and warm and solid in comparison to my softer self. And I like being this close to him more than is safe. “Are we done?”
“Not just yet,” he says, resting his cheek on top of my head. “I need you to fully commit and put your arms around me.”
I do as asked.
“Thank you,” he says. “You finished for the day?”
“Yeah.”
“What were you working on?”
“Some website updates for a small crafting business.”
“Nice,” he says.
