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“Did someone say pickles?” Jenna ducked under Mama’s arm and flopped down on my bed. “They’re gross. Can’t stand the vinegary taste.” She looked at me. “Oh, you weren’t talking about the food. What’s wrong?”
I sucked in a long, slow breath, debating my options. But the bottom line was, I didn’t know how to move forward. So I decided to share my situation. After I finished talking, I tugged on my fingers. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Nothing right now,” Mama Grace said.
My gaze flashed up to hers before finding Jenna’s. “But Nash doesn’t like secrets…”
“I’m not suggesting you keep one. Well, not for long,” Mama said. “It’s just… You two kids have so much working against you, including your struggles to forgive. I don’t think adding another hurdle right now is the smartest choice.”
I returned my gaze to Jenna. “What do you think?”
She appeared troubled. “I think you’re screwed.”
I slumped in the chair.
“I hear what Mama’s saying, and after how upset you were with Nash earlier, I think it’s valid to think he won’t react well to this weird codicil. At all.”
I nodded.
“Mama’s right. You still need time to get past your history. Typically, I’d say the truth is best, but Mama’s argument is sound. Yeah, I guess I’d wait until he’s calmer.”
I pleated my shirt. “But if I don’t tell him, he’ll think I lied. Or worse, that I’m trying to manipulate him as my father’s done me. He may misunderstand my interest in having kids entirely.”
“I think you work on helping him get to a place of acceptance with Steve,” Mama said. “That’ll go a long way toward smoothing out all these harsh feelings about families.”
“I don’t know…” I shifted, an uncomfortable feeling building inside me. Would Nash see that as manipulation? He was so sensitive about such things.
Mama Grace sighed. “Then don’t decide right now. Lord knows I’m not always right. I nearly broke my boys’ relationship, and Camden’s had to work hard to forgive me.”
“I…I don’t want to make this worse, but I also don’t see a way through.”
Mama came over and smoothed my hair back.
“Feel it out, and do what’s right when the time comes,” Jenna said.
I blinked at her, trying to eliminate the tears forming in my eyes. “Even if that means losing him?”
She and Mama shared a look. “Aya, honey, if he can’t accept that your mama created these conditions without your knowledge, then he’s not the man I thought he was,” Mama said.
20
Nash
Over a weekend in late July, yet another interview with Aya’s father surfaced, this one including the tidbit that he’d tried to get full custody of her because of her mother’s “poor choices.” Aya spent the afternoon listless, as she’d been off and on since my comment about not wanting kids. I didn’t wish to discuss that with her again—not when we clearly had such different views—so I was at a loss as to how to fix things.
Instead, I focused on her father. With a little research, I figured out the perfect solution—to the troubles with her father, at least. I smiled as I placed the call to Hugh.
He sighed long and hard into the phone. “Are you sure you want to do this, man?”
“I don’t like bullies.”
“Not every situation is like the ones with Lord Prescott.”
“You’re right. Some people are worse. But yes, I’m sure. I need to make amends for screwing up.”
“I don’t think this is the best way—”
“I didn’t ask you that,” I said. “I just…I want her happy, man.”
