I consider his invitation, my eyes flitting to the bedroom door left slightly ajar, where Anna is inside, likely passed out. “I should probably get home.” I point back in the direction I came.

“Just one drink,” he counters with a hopeful raise of his brows. “I’ve already opened the bottle. It’s gonna get tipped down the sink, otherwise.”

“Okay.” I hesitate, stepping in from the foyer. “Just one glass.” I close the front door behind me, lingering in the entry as I watch Nash walk into the living area. He pours two glasses, holding one out for me, and I don’t miss the flash of a smile in his eyes. But it’s that smile, and the fact that his wife-to-be is snoring obliviously from the next room, that makes me realize this night can only end badly.

Chapter 16

“So, what the hell happened to her?” Nash asks as I take the proffered glass of sparkling wine from him.

We continue out onto the balcony, overlooking the golf course, and I take a seat on one of the patio chairs, releasing a heavy breath. “She asked me to meet her so we could discuss where to place the wedding cake.” Even as it comes out of my own mouth it sounds like a ridiculous excuse. Nash is watching me with a crease of confusion etched between his brows, so I think it’s best to leave out the part where Anna only really asked me here so she could pick my brain about him and their relationship, and whether or not they should be getting married. “Then, I don’t know.” I shrug. “I guess I could just tell she didn’t look very happy, so I asked her what was wrong, and she told me—” I stop, snapping my mouth shut. I can’t tell him what she told me. It’s not that I care about protecting Anna, but I don’t want Nash to feel betrayed.

“She told you what?” he presses, staring at me with an imploring expression.

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, looking out at the view. The sun has disappeared deep into the horizon, and the sky is a spectacular shade of amethyst, with streaks of gold and mauve. It really is beyond beautiful. “Wow! Look at the sky …”

“Murph?” Nash warns. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

I sigh, turning to look at him, finding his eyes watching me, waiting. “She just told me about her dad, and her mom,” I continue. “And that … you guys have been arguing since being here in town.” I shake my head dismissively, with a casual shrug. “No big deal.”

Nash takes a deep breath, and I watch as he looks out over the crystal lake, all the way to the woods in the distance. His mind seems to be working overtime, his jaw clenching tight. I can tell he’s trying to hold in whatever emotion he’s feeling, and I don’t want to push him, so I stay silent. I sip on my wine, enjoying the peacefulness of the evening despite the obvious tension radiating from Nash. But then he suddenly turns to me. His eyes narrow as he hesitates with whatever he is going to say—whatever he’s trying to say—and, for a moment, he seems to be considering what to say.