Page 31 of Sweet Oblivion

That’s why I had to put distance between us. I couldn’t let him do all that work. So that’s why I had to reject his request for me to go on tour. I had my courses, my future in aeronautical engineering. I’d been fascinated by the topic for years and had taken apart many of the well pumps my mother’s nonprofit had brought to villages. Mum had sighed and asked me to put them back together. Then she’d praised me for how well the wells drew water.

She loved me for what and who I was. Nash liked me, too, as a friend. Dread washed over me as I worried about the photos he’d soon send me—of him and his gorgeous girlfriend.

My stomach ached as we lay there, side by side.

“What are you worried about, really?” he asked. “I’ll fix it.”

My stomach erupted in butterflies. “You hooking up with girls,” I blurted. I blushed so hard it felt as if my face had flash-burned.

His gaze turned solemn as he drew my hand to his chest. “I don’t want to hook up with other girls.”

I held my breath. Did that mean…?

“I’ve seen what sex does to relationships, Aya. It complicates things, hurts people. My dad bangs all those women, and now my mom won’t even live in the same house.”

His parents had legally separated the previous week, and Carolina was keeping a low profile in Europe. Nash said she was staying with Pop Syad and making noise for him to join her in Paris. Neither of us was looking forward to that further separation—and it was another reason he kept pushing me to join him on tour.

“Your father’s a cheater,” I snapped. “And you’re not even in a relationship.” Much to my continued disappointment. Well, as long as Nash chose me…but he hadn’t.

He grunted.

I laid my hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t helpful.” I sighed. “I don’t like you being sad either,” I whispered.

“I’m not sad.” He kept my hand cupped against his chest. “But I am going to miss you.”

Damn Nash and his raspy, whispery plea that shot straight to my heart. I bit my lip. I couldn’t tell him no.

I managed to keep my mouth shut, and exhaustion weighed on me, trying to drag me under.

“It’s not how long you know someone,” Nash murmured sometime later.

“What?” I asked.

“You said you hadn’t known your grandfather for very long. But I don’t think it’s how long you know someone that matters.”

His voice was so quiet, barely more than the shape of his lips. I rolled toward him, resting my hand on his chest. He played with my hair’s ends before smoothing his hand down my head, cradling my nape. He pressed a kiss to my temple.

This was the side of Nash few experienced. The one that made me melt and yearn.

“It’s how well the other person sees you. And I see you, Aya Jane Aldringham.”

11

Aya

I pressed my palms to my quivering belly. “I’m not sure I made the right choice,” I whispered.

“What?” Nash asked.

I turned to smile at him, but it likely appeared more as a grimace. “Just nervous is all.”

Nash rolled his eyes even as he took a protective step closer to me, which caused my pulse to ratchet upward. “Everything will be fine.”

I nibbled my lip, needing to change the subject. “What’s this room called?”

Nash shrugged. “The green room, I guess. Just a place for the band and some of the staff to hang out before and after the show.”

“And no one will be upset we’re here?” I asked, fidgeting.

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