Page 30 of Craving Oblivion

She smiled, a wide, genuine one that caused her eyes to sparkle. “Oh, you trampled that, and I, for one, enjoyed the show. I expect his mother to start the smear campaign on your reputation and good works by the end of the day.”

Lindsay reached forward but dropped her hands before she touched me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really. I picked on you because you were different. You never seemed to fit with us, and Nash never cared.”

He hadn’t. I was the one who’d been insecure.

“Nash gave you that bracelet, didn’t he?” Lindsay waved her hand. “Don’t bother answering.” She pulled out a piece of lined notebook paper and offered it to me. “This is Nash’s address.” She dropped her gaze. “Hopefully the program worked, and Nash is once again in control of his faculties.”

My pulse sped up. “Why do you have that?”

She hesitated but once again shook her head. “Steve gave it to me.”

“Steve?”

Lindsay sighed. “I told you: he called and asked if I’d come to Vegas. He said Nash needed a push, and I was the best person for that job, seeing as how I’m the one who started the chain reaction.” She pinched her lips together. “As much as I hate being the villain in your story, I am, and I’m sorry.”

I studied her, searching for deception. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

She shook her head. “Look, here’s what you have always failed to grasp about Nash Porter. He’s one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. He’s gorgeous, and he’s never been interested in a woman who isn’t you. Most of us can’t stand that. At least I couldn’t—drove me crazy that he never even looked at me. I came up with all kinds of dreadful reasons why destroying your relationship was nearly as good as having him for myself.”

I mulled that over. “Okay, but why would you help me?”

“Fair question. But am I really helping you? I mean, you know I want Alistair.”

“I think you are helping me, and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Lindsay stared at me for a long moment. “Maybe I’m not the complete ogre you thought I was. Maybe I’ve learned some things about myself and the world. Or maybe it could be a wild goose chase, and I’ll enjoy laughing at your expense. Ah. We’re here.”

She opened the door and ushered me out into the watery late morning. Then without another word and only the smallest of waves, she shut the door and her car pulled from the curb.

I turned to face Heathrow Airport.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out, unsurprised to find a voicemail from my father. As dread settled its heavy weight over me, I pressed the play button and stared up at the terminal. Over the drone of jets, my father’s sharp voice filled my ears.

“Aya, if you do not return to this restaurant in the next fifteen minutes, I will disown you. I’ll tie up your money in the courts, and I will personally see to it that you’re sacked.”

No, I never really had liked England. Maybe it was time to go home.

I clicked off my phone and walked into the airport.

15

Nash

Why had I thought being home would help me get past the restlessness that continued to itch my skin? Including my time in rehab, I was one hundred and one days sober now, and I’d celebrated earlier today at the Grace family ranch with a large slab of Mama Grace’s peach pie.

Surrounding myself with loved ones had helped to temporarily mitigate the itchy feeling, but I’d had to pretend not to see the side-eyes filled with concern. Each time Cam, Jenna, Kate, Rye, Steve, or Mama looked at me, I’d felt the weight of their worry, the heft of their hope.

“How’s it going, son?” Steve asked, poking his head around the wall that separated the kitchen and dining room from the expansive living room in my Austin home.

I shivered, as I did each time he called me that, because the meaning had entirely changed. Like the word, the relationship needed time to settle on my skin and sink in.

“It’s not.”

“Want to watch some TV?”

“No.”

“Need a snack?”

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