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“You know, Mom, we both have the same middle name—Gram’s name.”
“Pa never minded she kept her name. ‘Livvy Nash,’ he’d say, ‘come see this.’”
“I remember. We’d all have the same name if we both went with Nash. Legally. Nash women, Mom. It can’t be that complicated.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Same question to you.”
“Nash women. Yes. Oh, I like that. I really like that.”
“Let’s do it.”
“If you’re sure, I can call Rory Jameson tomorrow, ask how we go about it.”
“Yes. Let’s be who we are, Mom. Audrey and Morgan Nash.”
Later, in her room, she studied herself in the mirror. She couldn’t say if she looked like a woman who’d had a lot of great sex, but she looked and felt like a woman who’d found a kind of contentment she hadn’t expected.
Yes, the reasons for finding it began with horror, and she wouldn’t thank Gavin Rozwell for it. She wouldn’t thank the Colonel either, come to that.
But she lived in a household of strong women, had work she loved, and—at least for now—had a man she liked very much who liked her back.
“Morgan Nash,” she murmured, and smiled to herself. “That’s who I am, and nobody can take that away.”
Chapter Nineteen
She had sex before pizza, which didn’t surprise her in the least. And when they finally settled down to pizza and wine, and Howl to the rawhide bone the size of a Buick she’d bought before the pizza, she told him about the conversation with her ladies.
“So you were right about them knowing, and now I know my grandmother was at least a little bit of a free-love hippie before she married my grandfather.”
“I already knew that.”
“How?”
He lifted his glass. “I also have a grandmother. While she wasn’t really a free-love hippie, she’s expressed some admiration, and it strikes like maybe a little envy, for your grandmother’s youthful lifestyle.”
“Really? I think, given time and opportunity, I’m going to get Gram to reveal more about that youthful lifestyle. I also had a long, overdue talk with my mom about the Colonel. I was a kid, so pretty self-absorbed, and really didn’t understand how hard he was on her. Or how hard the divorce was for her. She kept us jumping from place to place after, and I resented that. I wanted roots.”
She glanced around at his yard, back at his house. “Like you have here. What I didn’t understand is that she wasn’t flighty or weak. She was coping. She loved him. It’s hard for me to see why, but she loved him.”
“Love’s a strange and inexplicable thing.”
“Apparently.” She bit into another slice. “Ever been there?”
“No.”
“Me neither. Attraction, serious like, but not that last tumble. He didn’t feel it for us, and it felt good to really acknowledge that, between the two of us. My mother talked to your father today.”
“Okay.”
“About the legalities of dropping Albright and being—legally—the Nash women. My grandmother’s name, both our middle names. Mom kept Albright because of me, I kept it because it was just always there. It doesn’t have to be. The process isn’t really complicated, but it’s a lot of steps, starting with the county probate thing. Your dad’s going to take care of it—lots of documents to change.”
“Driver’s license, social security, passport.”
“Yeah, like that. We’ll end up with spanking-new identification. It’s not really new identities, though, just having a name that matches who we are. All three of us.”
“Your mother’s birth name would be Kennedy, right?”
