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She trailed her fingers down my neck. “I want to be happy. And I want you to be happy, too.” She laid her hand on my heart. “I want to be with you, Nash. I want us to find that ease we used to have. I want to be secure, knowing you love me as much as I love you. I want that more than anything.”
I gripped her tighter. “I want that, too.”
Her breath hitched. “How do we get there?”
I stared into her eyes for a long time. “I don’t know. I think it’s a long, slow journey, and I know we have to try.”
17
Nash
“There are a lot of things getting better already,” I reminded her. “I like holding you.”
She wrapped her arms more tightly around me, so I leaned back against the tree. The bark scraped my back and a rock dug into my butt, but no way I was moving.
“I like being held by you.”
“Tell me what you did today,” I said. “Before I found you in the barn.”
She bit her lip, but a smile burst forth. “Cam’s brother introduced me to some of his former professors, and one agreed to be my mentor, so we went over all my previous courses, and UT accepted me into the graduate program.”
“Excellent news! We need to celebrate.” I cupped the back of her neck and kissed her. She softened her lips and darted her tongue out to touch mine. “Stay with me,” I whispered against her lips. “Please, Ay. I know it’s soon, but I need you in my bed.”
She nodded. “This isn’t slow, but I want to be with you. Clearly I can’t deal with the idea of…” Her voice faded, her face pinched.
“We can see how the days go. But…just stay with me.”
She met my gaze, her eyes steady and warm. “We’re not ready.”
18
Nash
In the end, Aya spent part of the night in my arms, just not the way I wanted.
Holding her brought comfort, but also insane sexual tension. Still, I didn’t push her because she was right. We weren’t ready. I’d lost my head after I came in her mouth yesterday. If I hadn’t issued my ultimatum…
But I had because I was feeling uneasy. According to Jordan, I was emotionally fragile, just as afraid of losing Aya as she was of losing me. We’d once been each other’s calm through such momentous storms… Jordan said it made sense that she’d turned to me during her current one, even if it didn’t feel entirely safe to do so.
I resolved to make myself safer for her, to trust our ability to find our way back to each other, rather than forcing it. And over the next few weeks, I told her all this. We talked for hours—and not always about the past. We began to share the lives we were living in the present.
Aya started classes in June, nearly two months after her return to Austin, and I delighted in taking pictures of her with the backpack I’d bought her. She smiled for each one, humoring me.
Aya hadn’t heard from Alistair Seymour since I’d threatened him that day on the phone, but her father’s solicitor continued to bedevil her through June and into July, attempting to freeze her accounts. Each time he contacted her or sent a letter, her worry spiked, though her lawyers—both in England and here—insisted Aya’s grandfather and mother’s wills were airtight…if a bit unorthodox.
We’d talked through this again at her local attorney’s office this afternoon. I tried not to ask questions during the meeting, but as we left the low-slung yellow brick building in Barton Creek’s business district, I couldn’t resist.
“What does unorthodox mean?” I asked.
Aya shrugged. “I’ve never read their wills. I didn’t need to read Jeddi’s, and with my mum’s… I just… It hurt too much. I’d already lost her. I didn’t want it to be more real.” She glanced over. “Maybe that’s why you’ve not read your mother’s or grandfather’s.”
I heard the hint of defensiveness in her voice, so I picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. “Probably.”
“I’m glad your hand is all healed,” she said.
“Good as new,” I said with a smile.
We entered the cool interior of the Tesla and both sighed.
