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“Don’t worry about it.” I met his eyes. “Let’s just get through tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “But don’t push it with the public displays of affection.”
A glint of mischief danced in his eyes, and I was so glad to see a hint of normal, playful Nash, I let him get away with it.
“Whatever you were just thinking, forget about it.”
“So I can’t even think about naughty stuff?” he asked, making a face. “That’s not fair.”
“Nope. No thinking, and minimal touching.” I tried to be stern but couldn’t quite pull it off.
“You can’t stop me from thinking about what’s under that dress,” he whispered in my ear, making goose bumps break out on my flesh.
“Nash…” I was second-guessing my decision to give him some leeway on this when his face turned from playful to furious. His eyes turned almost black and his grip on my arm became painful.
“Nash, what is it?” I turned, following his furious gaze.
“He fucking invited her. The son of a bitch invited her.”
“Who?”
“Sandy. His fucking mistress.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nash
* * *
“This whole thing is fucked,” I said, tugging on the knot on my tie.
“It’s next-level assholery,” Sariah said, giving me a sympathetic look.
The tie was so damn hot, it was suffocating me. The humidity here was no joke, even in the evening. I tugged and grumbled until I literally said fuck it and pulled the damn thing off.
“That was productive,” Sariah said in a dry tone.
I shoved the tie in my pocket and ran a hand through my hair. We were outside getting some air, which I’d needed within five minutes of arriving. I was still in shock that he’d brought Sandy. Coming here had been a huge mistake.
“It’s not even the party my mom wanted,” I ranted. “She wanted to have something at home in their garden with twinkle lights and a harp player, not some bullshit at a hotel ballroom.”
“Why didn’t she put her foot down?”
I threw both arms in the air. “Who knows? And also, there’s no chance I’m going to pose for photos with them for that photographer they hired. Is there a bar cart out here? I need a drink.”
A smile was playing on Sariah’s lips as she said, “I think what you need is to sit down. You’re making yourself even more agitated and sweaty pacing back and forth like that.”
I took her advice, shrugging off my jacket and sitting down on a wooden bench while rolling up my shirtsleeves. Sariah sat down next to me. I focused on breathing deeply, in and out, my frustration cooling as we listened to the laughter and conversation drifting out the open doors of a side entrance to the ballroom.
“So…” Sariah said. When she didn’t continue, I looked at her.
“What were you going to say?”
“I’m not sure if it’s what you want to hear.”
“I don’t care about that. Just say it.”
Her eye makeup was darker than usual, and her cleavage in that dress was an eleven. She looked so damn sexy tonight, and it was hard not to think about taking her hand, getting the hell out of here, and going back to our hotel.
“You think we should go?” I asked, hoping we were on the same page.
“God, no. That’s not what I was going to say.” She lowered her brows, aggravated. “I think you need to man up and tell your mom the truth.”
I balked at that. “Here? Now?”
“I mean, you should call her aside and make sure she can make a private exit, but yes. Did you see her in there? Dressed up so beautifully and holding on to his arm? Would she be doing that if she knew the truth?”
I looked away, the thought making me feel a little sick. “No.”
“Nash.”
Turning to her, I met her gaze, which was a mix of soft and steely.
“The last time you decided to withhold something important from someone you care about, how did that work out?”
I slumped against the back of the bench, knowing she was right.
“Am I like him?” I asked her. “He says he hasn’t told her because he doesn’t want to hurt her, and…fuck.” I shook my head and buried my face in my hands.
“And it hits close to home because you said that about telling me that you were Rob.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice mournful. “I’ll be the first to admit I’ve run from the hard parts of relationships all my life. I hate that I did that to you.”
Sariah kicked off her heels and gave a moan of satisfaction, settling back on the bench.
“You can’t change what you don’t acknowledge,” she said.
“I acknowledge that hearing you moan like that made me a little hard.” I waggled my brows at her.
“Don’t deflect.”
I scoffed, grinning at her. “Okay, ballbuster.”
She reached over and took my hand. “You and I are going to walk back in there, pull your mom aside, and tell her what she deserves to know.”
