Page 57 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

Isabella reached out, covering his hand with hers. “I miss him too.”

Phillip blinked the tears away before they could fall and flipped his hand over to hold hers with a smile. “Now, tell me you and Nash are a thing.”

She burst out laughing and shook her head. “No. Not at all. I mean, we’re trying to be friends, I think. It’s hard to tell; he’s so hot and cold.”

“He looked pretty jealous when I got there to whisk you away.”

So I’m not the only one who thought that? “Nash has made it clear he’s not a relationship type of guy. He lost someone and I don’t think he’s over her, or know if he ever will be.”

“And you won’t play second fiddle again—and you shouldn’t. But another roll in the hay with a man like that . . .” Phillip teased.

“You’re terrible.”

“Let me live vicariously through you.”

Her gaze softened as she took in her friend. The love he and Robert had shared was brief, but stronger than anything she’d ever witnessed. It was like seeing two pieces of the same soul finding each other and becoming whole. Love like that wasn’t something you could get over or replace. Had it been the same for Nash with his ex?

If so, no woman would ever stand a chance with him. It was better if she remembered that. All they had between them was sexual chemistry and a baby on the way. She couldn’t compete with a ghost.

27

NASH

Nash closed the door to his truck, searching the Rye Marina. He’d been here a few times to fuel up; it was only a handful of nautical miles from the Noveas’. Bella’s SUV was already there, sitting empty in the parking lot by the docks. A few people milled about with their vessels.

Nash headed for the first row of boats, scanning for Bella and Eli. He hadn’t gotten to talk to her since she left with that guy, Phillip, a few days ago, because the fucker had been with them every waking moment. Who was he to her? A friend? A lover? And maybe it made Nash an asshole, but the thought of Bella with another man while she was carrying his child sent possession surging inside of him.

A flash of dark brown hair blowing in the wind caught his attention at the end of the dock. Bella. Heart racing, he moved forward with purpose, fists clenching and unclenching. Nash’s stomach tipped, which had nothing to do with the bobbing dock. No, Bella’s presence always had this effect on him.

She stood with her arms crossed in front of her, staring across at the dated Boston Whaler Montauk. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

The owner of the boat, a potbellied man with white hair, smiled as he kept an eye on Eli poring over the controls. “Seventeen feet. It’s got a nine-inch draft.”

“Draft?” Bella asked.

“The minimum depth your boat can go without the hull hitting bottom,” Nash supplied.

Bella turned to him, surprise painting her expression. “Nash? What are you—”

“Nash! You came,” Eli greeted him excitedly—or what he was coming to recognize as excitement in the boy. His hands flapped back and forth.

“Told you I would.” Nash turned to the owner. “Mind if I come aboard?”

“Sure.” The owner reached out his hand. “Mark.”

Nash shook it. “Nash.” He checked over the helm. An old rickety radio attached to the controls was missing a few buttons. “Does that work?”

Mark shook his head. “No, that will need to be replaced. Other than that, it’s in fine condition for its age. And the emergency beacon has fresh batteries.”

Nash checked the deck. There were no cracks or structural damage from what he could see, just some wear and tear and rust spots.

“You looked it over, Eli?” Nash asked.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Yeah.”

“You check every compartment like we talked about?”

“Yes. I didn’t see any water damage or animal nests,” he answered.

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