Page 62 of One Foggy Christmas
That message was just two days before I got hurt.
I’ve never been happier in my entire life.
I don’t understand how that can be true when my family wasn’t an integral part of my life. They were always the most important thing to me. Happiness could never exist without them, but then again, I said it did—a hard reality to wrap my head around.
Tiredness seeps in, and I tell myself I’ll just read a couple more.
Sadie
How did your appointment with Dr. Wyman go? I’ve been thinking about you all day. (heart emoji)
Nash
It was rough. You know how I feel about therapists.
Sadie
I know.
Nash
I hate opening up everything I tried so hard to forget.
Sadie
For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for going and talking to her. I know it’s hard, but it will be worth it in the end.
Nash
Maybe, but for now, I just feel emotionally exhausted.
Sadie
Take the rest of the day off work. I’ll hold down the fort here.
Nash
Nah, I’m already on my way. Taking a day off work is only fun if you’re with me. I’ll feel better when I see you and hug you. You’re my rock.
Sadie
And you’re mine.
I feel like an intruder spying on something I wasn’t supposed to hear—something so intimate and tender it’s deeply personal. Seconds before, Nash was just a man who knew how to flirt with his wife, but after reading this last exchange, he became dimensional.
My eyelids get heavy, and I succumb to their weight.Who is the real Nash Carter?This is the last thought that goes through my mind before everything goes dark.
SADIE
“Areyou sure you’ll be okay?” My mom holds my shoulders, staring into my eyes. Her wild gaze conveys her concerns, and it’s obvious she wants me to blink twice as a signal I’m being held against my will by my captor. The captor in question: Nash Carter.
No one was more surprised than me when I decided to stay with Nash tonight in our apartmentandagreed to let him come to my parents’ house for Christmas. Well, no oneother thanmy mother. Lynette Bradley’s jaw fell to the unsanitary hospital floor when I announced the plan. I lifted my chin, showing more confidence in my decision than I felt—I had to. Once my mom reeled in her shock, she listed all the reasons it was a bad idea to include Nash in my recovery here in Chicago and back home.
My family is firmly in the “We Don’t Like Nash” camp. I was too—maybe I still am—but after reading those texts last night, I decided I owed it to myself to see where my choices three years ago led me today.
For better or worse.
“It’s only one night.” I plaster a reassuring smile on my face. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow evening.”
