Page 53 of Finally Forever
“Yeah, but I can help protect you, too. It goes both ways. I did a lot for you back in the day. You remember that much, don’t you?” He eyes me before lining up his next shot.
I nod. “I remember. It was just the other day to me, after all. But this is different. I’m different.”
“I’m different, too. Older and wiser. Think about it before you dismiss it, okay?”
“Okay.” I placate him, having no intentions of involving him beyond his contact in Italy.
This will be a solo act, no friends allowed. If my plan fails, they’ll remain safe.
We play multiple rounds of pool—I let him win one—and we move onto other video games in the room.
“Do you want to take out the snowmobiles tomorrow before Kensington arrives?” I ask Nathan while playing—beating—him at a zombie game.
“Hell, yes.”
I text Xavier that my plan to take them out tomorrow is a go.
Xavier: Got it. I’m heading out to check on some glitchy cameras at the east end so they’re fully functioning beforehand. I’ll be gone for about an hour or so.
He stays up at night, watching the cameras of the property, fifty acres worth, and sleeps for part of the day after I wake—says it’s his protocol at a new location. The guy is good at his job. No wonder I hired him.
Eventually, the scent of garlic and cheese draw my attention to the open doors of the game room.
“Do you smell that?” I ask Nathan.
“Yeah. Dinner?” He stares at the doors, too.
“Let’s find out.” I drop a few beer bottles into the trash on my way to the hallway. With Nathan at my side, we walk toward the kitchen.
Ainsley stands near the breakfast table, setting it with plates and napkins. Two spots only.
“That smells incredible,” Nathan says. “What is it?”
Ainsley sends Nathan a bright smile, like she’s thankful for the compliment and his kindness. “I can’t take credit for it,” she says. “The cook left it in the fridge to be reheated. The sticky note hadTrofie al Pestowritten on it. I’ve never had it, but it smells delicious.”
“It’s good. Our chef in New York used to make it when I was younger. You’ll like it,” I say to Ainsley and then catch myself. “Uh. I don’t know why I said that.”
Her face brightens with hope. “Maybe it’s a sign.”
“Maybe it’s nothing,” I reply, the words like acid on my tongue. That’s a first.
She swallows deep in her throat, and those green eyes ooze with pain, tearing at my insides in a way I don’t like.
Nathan glowers at me, the expression part disbelief and part shock. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure.” I follow him down the hallway, out of earshot from Ainsley.
“I’m here for you. I am, but I’m not going to stand around and watch you treat Ainsley like shit. She’s done nothing wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if Kensington woke up and couldn’t remember me. It would fucking kill me, like I’m sure it’s killing her.” He inhales a steadying breath. “Look. I wasn’t always nice to Ainsley back in college. I didn’t like her with you at first. I thought it was risky. Then I let Harper and her toxicity cloud my judgment about her. I know now it was manipulation on Harper’s part, brought on by her insecurities.”
“I don’t know who Harper is,” I snap, my anger self-directed.
“She was Ainsley’s best friend. She hit on you and on me. She’s a disruptor with a ton of issues. I dated her for a while and bought into her bullshit. Then I grew up. My point is, I felt bad for the few times I made Ainsley uncomfortable back then. It was wrong.
“You might not be able to remember Ainsley, but she knows and loves you. Hell, she’s here, by your side, putting up with your attitude and dismissiveness because she loves you that much. Give her a break. It won’t kill you to be kind to her. And despite what’s going on in your head, I also remember how you react to uncomfortable situations. You close yourself off and push people away because you think it’s better for them.
“I’m a guy. I’m built in a similar way. I can deal. It’s not the same for her. She’s alone. You have me. She has no one. I wasn’t cool with the idea of Kensington coming here, not that she’d listen to me, but now I’m glad she’s coming so Ainsley can have a friend. She’s hurting, man. It’s written all over her. I know you can see it; you can read people like a book. Whatever you need to work through, you can do it and still be nice. You owe her that.”
His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. He knows me, called me out on my dickish behavior, and I don’t like it one fucking bit because he’s one hundred percent right. I’m treating her the worst, so I don’t grow a connection to her—one that I fear has already formed.
