He turns my hand in his, his thumb tracing the emerald ring I’ve been wearing ever since my momma passed away. It was her grandmother’s and, one day, maybe I’ll have a daughter of my own to pass it on to.

“But you have your new life now, Nash.” I smile. “You have Anna, and med school. Soon you’re gonna be a doctor. You’re gonna go off and do so many incredible things. I’ll always be here. So will Harley. But, now … Now it’s time for us all to live our own lives. Wherever that might be.”

“Is it weird if I say I think I’ll always love you?” His voice quavers with a fragility I also feel deep down in the murkiness of the great unknown, settling in my belly.

I’m quick to shake my head. “I think it would be weird to say otherwise. You and me, we’ll always have something special.”

He squeezes my hand once again, but this time he lifts it to his lips and closes his eyes as he places a soft kiss to the back. And, with another stammered breath, he sits up a little straighter, letting go of my hand before looking down at himself. With a soft chuckle, he shakes his head, flashing me a mischievous smirk. “Do you think I could go clean up before I order an Uber to take me back to Harrington’s?”

I look at the whiskey splatter marks staining the front of his white Oxford and I laugh with a nod. “Sure. You can go up and use my bathroom. Actually, I have an old T-shirt of yours in the second drawer of my dresser.”

He goes to move before pausing, flashing me a sideways glance, one of his brows slightly quirked. “You kept my old T-shirt?”

I realize what I’ve said and again, my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but what’s the point of lying now? I’ve already humiliated myself enough. “Yes. And I slept in it every night after we broke up.”

His eyes widen momentarily, but then he laughs—a real honest-to-goodness laugh—unexpectedly pulling me into a warm embrace. His strong arms hold me tight and I wrap mine around his waist as I smile against his chest. And, for what feels like the first time in forever, I breathe him in.

Idly wiping the countertop while Nash is upstairs getting himself cleaned up, I find myself thinking back to what Harley had said on his way out of the store earlier. The look in his eyes deeply contradicted the nearly nonexistent smile on his face. He’s always been a closed book. So hard to read. He never gives himself away. He’d asked if this week had all been a lie and I was honest with him. In not so many words I’d told him the truth. In fact, I think I was being honest with myself for the first time in a long while. This whole week hasn’t been a complete lie. Maybe I should call him and try to explain myself a little better. Maybe he could stop by after he closes up the bar. I could finally talk to him. Tell him the whole truth. Tell him how I really feel. But what the hell would I say? Where on earth would I even start?