Page 82 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

“It wasn’t you.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“You were never the problem. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that was the case.”

“It’s not me, it’s you?” She scoffed. “Can you get any more cliché?”

Long thick fingers wrapped around her wrist, pinning it to the table.

A small gasp left her mouth.

“Someone like you, Bella, deserves more than a man like me has to give. You should have someone who isn’t as fucked up in his head. Someone who has a heart with love to give. A man who will worship that delicious pussy and make that smart mouth scream in pleasure every night. Someone who’s whole and isn’t ruined by his own mistakes. A partner to play ball with your son and be the role model he needs.” His hand squeezed tighter, but it didn’t hurt. “You want me to be real with you, but trust me, you won’t like what you find.”

She blinked, utterly stunned. What could she say to that? She’d wanted his honesty and she’d gotten it. Black eyes blazed, a tumultuous sea rising in their depths, promising her ruin. So why did it make her want to jump in with both feet? His words had clearly been intended to make her run the other way. But she was done making decisions out of fear. They never got her anywhere good. She was the new Isabella. And she wasn’t afraid of the dark.

Will interrupted their stare-off, depositing their salads and appetizers on the table.

“Thank you,” she said before pouring her dressing over the greens. She took a few bites and looked back at Nash.

His gaze was already locked on her as he cut a piece of bread, adding butter before handing it over to her.

She accepted it with a grateful turn of her lips. Biting into the warm, yeasty perfection, she moaned. God, was there anything more delicious than fresh bread?

“Told you you’d like it.” Nash smirked, looking a little like Ricky in that moment.

She giggled. “I never disagreed. Carbs happen to be my weakness.”

He buttered another piece and set it on her half-eaten salad plate before she even finished the one in her hand.

“I won’t have any room left for dinner.”

“So take it home. Besides, you’re eating for two. We gotta keep you full.”

“Oh, I think I’m plenty full enough,” she joked.

His heated gaze scorched down the part of her body that wasn’t hidden by the table like he was imagining her full of something else entirely—him.

Her skin tingled, like she was incinerating from the inside out. Phew. She needed to cool down. She reached for her cider, trying to get a hold of herself.

Nash started on the chicken wings next, placing a few on her plate. If she ate all this, she really wouldn’t have any space for the pasta.

Thankfully, their conversation turned to lighter topics while he finished his appetizers. She tried a little of everything, saving room for her main course.

By the time their dinner was served, she’d learned more about his business operations and the clients he provided seafood for. She’d opened up and shared more about Eli’s autism and how he was diagnosed as a child, and what that really meant in the day-to-day of their life.

She set her fork aside, not able to take another bite of her alfredo.

“So, what is it that you really want to do with your life?” Nash asked, dragging a piece of steak through the sauce on his plate before closing his mouth around it. Why was watching him eat so sexy?

“My ideal life?” she clarified.

“Yeah.” He licked the bit of sauce from the corner of his full lips. God, the things that tongue could do were burned into her memory.

“Uh, well, it’s nothing special. I want to be the best mom I can while also carving out something for me. I did that wrong the first time around. It’s easy, when you become a mom, to get sucked into a role you think you’re supposed to be based on some unattainable perfect mirage of motherhood. Somehow, you’re supposed to meet your child’s every waking need and maintain the patience of a saint while running on a few hours of broken sleep for months on end, on top of keeping a clean house, and somehow finding time to shave your legs and put on makeup, and work out to get rid of those extra baby pounds the day after you leave the hospital. But you’re really screaming inside because you want just five minutes to pee alone or enjoy an actual hot cup of coffee that hasn’t been reheated in the microwave five times.” She took a deep breath, letting it out before meeting Nash’s wide eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s what it was like for you?”

“It was lonely. And I should have asked for help, but I felt so isolated. I was half a country away from my parents, and well, you know Eli wasn’t a typical baby anyways. He needed more attention, and we didn’t realize a big part of it was sensory issues.”

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