Chapter Eight
Peyton
"Did you go to our prom?"
I looked expectantly at Nash, waiting for his response. It wasn't a hardship to let my eyes rest on the man: he looked dang good in his dark gray suit. It fit him well, and set off by the white shirt against his tan skin, he reminded me of an old-time movie star.
We were sitting at a table by ourselves at the Glory Days Dinner Dance in the Rivers-Holt Ballroom at the Riverside, watching our classmates dance and mingle. Ostensibly, we were watching for Jared, who hadn't yet made an appearance, but in reality, I knew that Nash and I were simply enjoying each other's company.
The question had popped into my head, prompted by the slide show that was playing against the far wall. Apparently, people from our class had sent in old pictures from our so-called glory days, and a 1980s mixtape played in the background of the show. I'd just spotted a photo of Emmy, Sheri, Delilah and me at our senior prom: while Sheri and Emmy looked happy, hamming it up for the camera (and I had no idea who was taking the picture), I could see the strain on my face and Delilah's expression of pain.
I had just begun to suspect I might be pregnant the day of our prom, which accounted for my tension. Delilah had just learned something shocking before we walked into the prom, and her sense of betrayal hadn't even begun to fade.
Let's just say that prom wasn't exactly a happy memory for either of us.
"No, I didn't go." Nash was answering me now, pulling me from my brooding memories. "Remember that back in the eighties, you had to have a date to go to your prom. There wasn't any of this going stag or going with friends that kids can do now."
"Why didn't you ask someone?" I tilted my head. "Lots of girls would have jumped at the chance to go to prom with you."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You have a selective memory, Peyton. I might have found someone who needed a date, but I'm not sure anyone was jonesing to be my date in particular." He paused. "Also, the girl I wanted to take was already spoken for, and it wouldn't have been fair to anyone else. They would have been my second choice."
"I wish I'd gone with you." I wrinkled my nose. "Ryan got drunk and threw up all over his car—with me in it. We were supposed to go to a party afterward, but instead, I drove him home, and he passed out on his living room sofa."
"I hope you went to the party without him," Nash remarked. "And I hope you had a great time."
"I didn't." I sighed. "I went home and got changed, then early the next morning, I drove to Daytona to go to a health clinic for a pregnancy test. Good times, all around."
"Well, now, I wish you'd gone with me, too." Nash reached over to cover my hand with his. "I wouldn't have puked, and I would have gone to the clinic with you."
"I know." I wanted to say more, to tell Nash how much I wished things had been different back then, but before I could, I caught sight of a man entering the ballroom. "Nash! Jared Brady, at three o'clock!"
"What?" Nash frowned at me, confused, until I jerked my head in Jared's direction a few times.
"Come on." I stood up, tugging on Nash's hand. "Let's go talk to him."
"Oh, I don't know," Nash stalled. "Maybe we should let him mingle a little. We don't want to tackle him the moment he walks in the door."
"Yes, we do," I insisted. "What if he leaves, and we don't get a chance to talk to him? Let's strike while the iron is hot."
Nash finally let me drag him across the ballroom to where Jared was chatting with one of the reunion committee members. When he spotted me over her shoulder, I saw his eyes light up.
"No way! Peyton Rivers! Dammit, girl, it's been a minute."
Laughing, I gave Jared a quick hug, still holding onto Nash's hand. I felt his fingers tighten around mine, and I wondered fleetingly if he were jealous of me hugging my old neighbor.
"I'm so glad to see you, too, JB." I stepped back and slipped my arm around Nash's waist. "Do you remember Nash Sampson? He was in our class, too, but I'm not sure if you two went around with the same crowd."
That was my tactful way of saying that Nash was too smart to spend time with a crazy dude like Jared Brady. He'd been a real wild child back when we were kids.
"Sampson?" Jared frowned. "Nash Sampson? I guess I kind of remember—your name is definitely familiar."
Nash shook Jared's hand. "Well, that might be for another reason. I'm a partner with Jamison Sustainable Property Development out of Burton."
"Ohhhh." Jared glanced from Nash to me, and then he groaned. "Don't tell me that you're gonna talk business to me here tonight. For real? Now?"
I chuckled softly and released Nash's hand to grip Jared's elbow, guiding him toward an empty table behind us.
"Don't look so glum, JB. This won't take long—as long as you listen to me when I talk sense to you."
"I don't know how you did that."
Nash stared at me as though I'd suddenly grown wings. The admiration in his gaze had taken on a brand-new dimension, it seemed.
"I mean, seriously. I don't understand it." He shook his head, looking bewildered. "I always knew you were the most beautiful woman in the world, and I knew you were crazy smart, too. But I had no idea that you were such a savvy business negotiator."
I tossed up both hands. "How do you think I got to be so successful as a small business owner? It's all in understanding what each party really wants—and that what they say they want isn't always accurate." I shrugged. "Once I figured out that Jared needed to hold onto at least a little land in Georgia because of the way his business is structured—and that he didn't really understand what your company does as far as green development—it was just a matter of saying the right words in a way that he could understand them." I glanced from right to left and ducked my head. "JB was always a little obtuse, you know. His mama used to say he hit his head too many times being wild, jumping off things. Bless his heart."
"Well, regardless, you've made a certain gentleman in Georgia very happy tonight." Nash lifted his phone. "Reggie says thank you so much, and he'd very much like to take you to dinner to express his appreciation."
I grinned. "Not necessary, but appreciated all the same." I slid him a flirtatious glance. "I'm only interested in one of the partners of Jamison Sustainable Property Development."
Nash's face flushed with what I hoped was pleasure. "You don't have to worry about Reggie that way. He'd be more into Jared than you."
"Ah. Do you—" I began to speak again, but just then, the band began to play, loudly.
Nash leaned his head toward me. "It's getting tough to talk in here. There's a bar off the lobby, and it's much quieter. Want to ditch this and head over there?"
I nodded emphatically. "Lead the way."
Nash took my hand, waiting for me to retrieve my wrap and purse before he guided me out of the ballroom and down the corridor. It was a blessing to leave the music behind, and I sighed in relief.
He glanced back at me. "I hope I didn't drag you away from the fun."
"Not at all," I assured him. "I think I had all the fun I was going to have there. Plus, they were going to start announcing the reunion all-stars pretty soon, and I didn't need to witness that craziness."
"It was bad enough the first time, wasn't it?" Nash agreed ruefully. "Can't say that getting named Class Brainiac did anything for my social standing in the days we had left in high school."
"Yeah, I guess it didn't." I followed him into the bar, where we slid into opposite sides of an intimate booth. Once I was seated, I kicked off my shoes beneath the table. "Ahhh, that feels good. These heels are killers."
"But they look damn good on your feet." Nash waggled his eyebrows at me. "They remind me of this pair of shoes you used to have back in high school—you wore them with a short skirt and a long jacket, and some kind of sleeveless top." He sighed. "I always loved the days when you dressed up."
"Nash!" I gave him a not-so-gentle kick in the leg under the table even as I smiled. "Were you leering at me back then?"
"Obviously not. I was just admiring you from afar. You know, your legs and your . . . um, other assets."
"Perv," I teased. "And here I thought you were attracted to my mind."
"Oh, I definitely was," he assured me. "I loved when we got a chance to have a real conversation. But it's possible for a man to be attracted to several different facets of a woman."
"Good to know." I looked up as the server approached to take our drink order. I requested a Negroni, while Nash asked for an old fashioned.
Once she had left to make our drinks, I spoke up again.
"Tell me about your wife. Where did you meet her? How long were you together? And why aren't you married anymore?"
Nash let out a long exhale, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's kind of a complicated story."
I spread my hands. "I've got time."
"Right." Nash hesitated. "I met Reggie right after I graduated from college. He was working for a development company, and I interviewed there for a job. A couple of days later, Reggie called me and said the company was going to offer me the position, but he was asking me not to take it because he was about to leave to launch his own business, and he wanted me to be part of it."
"Wow." I raised my eyebrows. "That's impressive."
"It was a nice ego boost," he admitted. "It wasn't always easy in the beginning, but I liked Reggie, and he was—is—a genius. But he's also one of the most positive, forward-thinking guys you'd ever want to meet. He moved to the US from Austria to be with a guy he'd fallen in love with, and that didn't work out, but he decided he liked it here, so he became a citizen. That was before I met him, of course." Nash played with one of the coasters on the table.
"A couple of years after we began working together, Reggie introduced me to his sister, Lena. She was in the country on a visa seeking medical care. She'd been diagnosed with cancer back in Austria, but she didn't feel she was getting the best care there—plus Reggie, her only family, was here, so she came over."
I was slowly getting a picture of where Nash was going with his story, and already, my heart hurt for him.
"The thing was, though, Lena wasn't going to get better. She was older than Reggie by a few years, and she'd been married and widowed—her husband was killed in a boating accident. They had a son together, and Lena was raising him on her own.
"Reggie came to me one day at the end of work, and he was a mess. He told me that his sister was dying, her son was about to be an orphan, and she wasn't going to be permitted to stay in the US—her visa was running out. Reggie was considering giving up everything we'd built and going back to Austria with his sister and his nephew—unless Plan A worked out."
"And you were Plan A," I guessed.
"Yep." Nash nodded. "It didn't take me long to say yes. I mean, I didn't have anyone in my life." His eyes skittered over my face. "I know it makes me sound lame, but I was still thinking of you. Wishing that fate would bring us back together—somehow, someday."
I let out a long breath. "And we were so close, Nash. Less than fifty miles apart."
He grimaced. "Don't remind me. If I had only known . . . well, anyway, I didn't see anything or anyone in my future that would prevent me from marrying Lena and adopting Max. I already loved the kid. And if I could do something to give Lena an easier, more peaceful passing, knowing her family was safe and secure . . . why wouldn't I have done that?"
"So you did it. You married Lena."
"Yes, I did. We kept it simple, given her fragile health, and she managed to live almost another two years. We had some good times, and some very hard ones, too. But that was enough time for Max's adoption to go through, and for Lena to be positive that her son was happy and loved." He rolled one shoulder. "So that's the story of my marriage—and how I became Max's dad. He's the greatest kid, Peyton. He's happy and well-adjusted—he's got a good career that he loves."
"What does he do?" I asked.
"He's a chef." Nash positively beamed. "He works at a restaurant in Savannah. Hey, you might have eaten some of his food!"
I laughed. "Quite possibly. I do love to go out to eat." Mimicking Nash's question from yesterday morning, I held out my hand. "I want to see pictures."
"Oh, sure." Nash retrieved his phone and scrolled. "I don't have a folder like you, but there are a few of us together, a couple with Reggie—" He cast me an apologetic half-smile. "We're guys. We don't go around taking pictures on the regular, you know?"
I was already swiping my fingers through Nash's photo album, perusing his pictures. "Oh, my gosh, Nash, he's a good-looking guy. And this one of the two of you—I love it. The way he's looking at you . . ."
"Yeah, well." Nash cleared his throat, accepting his phone from me. "My life hasn't been exciting or wildly successful, but being Max's dad is about the best thing that ever happened to me."
I reached across to take both of his hands in mine. "You're a good guy, Nash. Such a good guy." I sat back a little, still holding onto Nash. "You know, I have to admit that this weekend, I've been having a lot of what if thoughts—which I almost never let myself do."
He smirked, sniffing. "I get that. A hundred percent."
"I was thinking . . . what if I had gone to you instead of Ryan that night before graduation? What if when you'd suggested that we drive to Georgia right away and get married, I'd told you yes?" I let the waves of regret roll over me. "What if I'd broken up with Ryan back when I first realized I should have, before I got pregnant? What if you and I were together at the end of high school?"
Nash nodded. "A lot of could have beens, huh?"
"Yes, a lot," I agreed. "But then I think . . . if I'd broken up with Ryan earlier, I wouldn't have Charlie, and she's the light of my life. And if I'd gone with you, and we'd gotten married, what would have happened to Lena and Max? You wouldn't have your son, and Max wouldn't have a wonderful father like you."
The server chose that moment to drop off our drinks. I released Nash's hands and waited until she'd left again.
"The road not taken . . . and all the alternate realities out there." Nash took a long drink from his glass. "Do you think in one of those universes, you and I are together and have both of our kids, somehow?"
I shrugged. "Infinite possibilities exist, so I'd say yes."
Nash rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, his eyes fastened on mine. "I want you to know, Peyton, that in none of those universes did I ever get over you. Even in a reality where anything is possible . . . that's not. I loved you then, and this weekend has proven to me that I love you still."
I stared at him, at his steadfast eyes, at the man who had never let me down, never betrayed my trust, never made me feel anything but beautiful and perfect. Thirty-five years was a long time, and we were different people, but somehow, it was eighteen-year-old Peyton who stretched her hand over to link her fingers with Nash's as she whispered to him.
"Stay with me tonight."
"This is going to be an awkward question." Nash laid his hands on my shoulders, brushing my hair back from my face. "And maybe I shouldn't ask it now. Or ever. But . . . have you dated much?"
We were standing in my hotel room, both of us still fully dressed, facing each other at the foot of the bed. We'd left the bar after finishing our drinks, neither of us interested in anything but getting to a place where we'd have some privacy—together.
Now, I cast my eyes upward to the ceiling, considering Nash's question. "I don't know your definition, but whatever it is, the answer is probably no." I narrowed my eyes, thinking. "For the first few years after Charlie was born, I didn't have the time or energy for anything but being her mom and working where I could to help support us—to contribute to the household that Peg was maintaining. After she started school, there were guys here or there who flirted with me at the pick-up line—oh." I giggled. "I just now got the irony of that. They were picking me up at the school pick-up line."
Nash rolled his eyes. "Did you ever allow yourself to get picked up?"
"Nope." I popped the P. "I wasn't interested in them, and they were only interested in sex. Peg encouraged me to consider finding someone—she didn't want me to feel that just because she was Ryan's mother, I should feel uncomfortable finding love. But it just never happened." I covered Nash's hands with mine where they rested on my shoulders. "I had some friends with benefits over the years. One after Charlie had graduated and was in college—it was just easier then, more convenient. I never wanted a man to affect her childhood."
"I can understand that." Nash nodded.
"My friend—his name was Andy—was fine with our arrangement. It was no strings, no expectations—sex when it worked out for us, and companionship if we needed it. We each had dates to special occasions in the business community or with his civic work."
"So what happened to Andy?" Nash asked.
"He moved to Arizona right after Charlie graduated. I heard he met someone down there and got married, so good for him."
"Yeah, good for old Andy," Nash echoed. "Although I think he was crazy to leave you behind. But it worked out okay for me."
"I guess it did." I tilted my head until my cheek rested against the back of his hand. "What about you? Friends with bennies? Or did you leave a trail of broken hearts in Burton?"
"Neither," he admitted. "I've had hook-ups, and there for a while, after Lena died, there was a woman in Savannah who handled some of our subcontractors. I had to drive up there a couple of times a month, and when I did . . ." He lifted his shoulder. "We were both unattached and needy, I guess. But it never developed into anything else, and eventually, it just fizzled."
"This is scary as hell," I informed him, wrinkling my nose and twisting my mouth. "You and I—we knew each other, but never like this. And you have—expectations, don't you?" I blinked up at him. "I'm not the girl you crushed on back in high school, Nash. I'm fifty-three years old. I had a baby—I mean, a long time ago, yes, but still. I try to keep in shape, but gravity is real, and so is menopause." I made a face. "Sorry. My sexy-talk seduction game isn't exactly on point, is it?"
"Peyton." Nash laid a finger over my lips. "Don't worry so much. I'm not the eighteen-year-old boy I was, either. My only expectation is that it's you, and it's me—and we're together. One moment in time. Not thinking about anything other than—this."
He swept my hair away from my face and bent his head to kiss me, and just like that, all of my insecurities melted away. I could only feel Nash's lips, his hands as he ran them down my body, and my own growing need.
He eased me to the bed, slowly and with care removing each piece of clothing that was in the way of his touch. My own hands shook slightly as I loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and reached for the buckle of his belt. I pushed his undershirt out of the way, humming a little in pleasure as I took in the planes of his broad chest, sprinkled liberally with salt and pepper hair. I ran my fingers over his pecs, pausing to toy with the small nubs of his nipples.
Nash exhaled, closing his eyes, his fingers circling my wrist and holding my hand in place. "Feeling you touch me is heaven, Peyton. The best thing ever."
I smiled at him. "I want to touch you everywhere. Help me get these clothes off."
We worked together to shed everything else, tossing clothes over the side of the bed. When I lay completely bare under Nash's gaze, a little of my worry resurfaced, and I reached for the bedside lamp.
"No." Nash stopped me. "I want to see every inch of you, Peyton. I want to taste all of you. Just lay back and feel."
I dropped back to the pillow, closing my eyes and focusing on the heat of his mouth as he trailed his lips down my throat to my chest. His hands cupped my breasts before his lips circled my nipples, sucking each one until I cried out, needing more. Needing him.
"That feels good?" he murmured, pausing to look up at me.
"So good." I nodded, arching my body. "It makes me—wet for you." I had never been a big fan of dirty talk in bed, but at the moment, I was so turned on that I wanted Nash to understand what he was doing to me.
"Let's see." Dropping a last kiss between my breasts, he eased lower, kissing me all along the way, until he lay between my legs. He used his hands to spread me wider, opening my center to his greedy eyes and seeking mouth.
"Oh, sweetheart," Nash crooned, one finger stroking my folds. "You are so wet. Is this where you need me to kiss you? To make everything better?"
"Yes." I keened the word, so completely focused on the feel of his breath over my sensitive flesh. His finger moved up and down a few times before his lips fastened over the small bud that was aching for his ministrations.
I'd had oral before with a few guys—not Ryan, who had expressed his disdain for anything that didn't bring him immediate gratification—but with a few of my short-term sex partners. But never had I experienced anything like what Nash was doing. He was playing me, sucking me hard and bringing me to the edge of ecstasy before he backed down, moving to kiss the inside of my thighs.
"Nash," I moaned, my fingers in his hair, trying to move his mouth where I needed it. "Please. You're killing me."
He laughed softly, the evil man. "Pleasure delayed is pleasure doubled," he murmured against my aching pussy. "Don't you want me to double your pleasure?"
"I just—just—ohhhhh." My hips canted upward, seeking his mouth. "I'm on fire, Nash. I'm about to combust."
"Combustion is a good thing. You know how fire spreads, right?" He blew over my clit, and I shivered. "But I'm not going to torture you, sweetheart. Come for me now."
His mouth descended on me once more, and this time, he slipped two fingers inside me, curling them to hit a spot that sent me soaring. My vision went dark, and colors exploded before my eyes, my lower body convulsing as my inner channels pulsed around Nash's fingers. This was an orgasm unlike any I'd ever known.
"Peyton, you are perfect. You are beautiful." Nash sat up between my legs, his long, thick cock jutting out between us. "You are everything I ever dreamed you were—but more."
The amazing thing was that I felt beautiful. Lying there, enjoying the way Nash gazed at me and loving even more the vision of his obvious desire.
"I want you to fill me," I heard myself speaking, reaching up for him. "I want to make you feel—just like you made me feel."
He didn't move for a long moment, and I wondered if I had said something wrong. Then he shook his head a little, a smile playing around his lips.
"I keep thinking that this can't be real," he said, his voice husky. "I have to be dreaming, right? I'm going to wake up alone in my bed, missing you just as I've always done?"
"God, you better not be dreaming," I retorted. With a mischievous grin, I lifted my hand to circle my fingers around his cock, moving up and down in a teasing rhythm. "I could pinch you to make sure you're awake, but maybe there's a better way to check."
Nash hissed, his eyes drifting closed. "I don't know. Some of my dreams about you have felt pretty fucking real."
"Ah, then I guess I better try something else." I gripped his strong thighs and wriggled lower, between his legs. Raising up on my elbows, I slid his length between my lips, sucking gently, cupping his balls with my free hand.
"Okay." Nash sounded strained. "Definitely not dreaming. Most definitely not dreaming."
"Why?" I released him with a pop. "Didn't Peyton Rivers ever give you a blow job in your dreams?"
"Only the very best ones," he gasped as I pulled him in and sucked harder this time. "The rare ones where I get extremely lucky."
"Well, aren't you lucky tonight then?" I fell backwards onto the mattress. "I can't stay in this position for very long, but if you want kneel over me?—"
"No." He kissed me once, hard. "If I do that, I'll come in your mouth when I want to come deep inside your pussy. This first time, Peyton, I want to be inside you."
This first time. Would there be another time, then?
Before I could wander too far down that intriguing and yet terrifying path, Nash lay between my legs, rubbing the head of his member over my sex.
"Peyton, are you okay with this?"
"Yes." I was impatient, moving restlessly beneath him. "Yes, of course, I'm okay. Very, very okay—like get-inside-me-now okay."
He gave a wheeze of strained laughter. "All right, I get it. But I just mean—" He groaned as I bucked up, trying to hurry him on. "I just mean, I don't have a condom?—"
"Not worried about getting knocked up now, Nash." I smirked. "Did you not hear me mention menopause?"
"I know, but I'm more worried about you knowing—and trusting—that I'm healthy. Clean."
"Oh." I ran my fingertips up and down his arms. "Are you?"
"Yes. I haven't been with anyone for . . . a long time, and I've seen a doctor since then, and I used protection with that woman. So I'm good."
"Okay." I nodded. "Are you worried about me?"
"You? No, of course not."
"Well, you should be. If you expected me to want to know about you and your health, you should ask about mine." I paused for a beat. "Which is fine, by the way. I have always been careful, and I'll bet you my dry spell has been longer than yours."
"Let's not use the words dry spell right now, okay?" Nash lowered himself to kiss me again. "I've never been with a woman where I didn't use a condom. That this is you—my first time—it's perfect."
"I'm glad." I reached between us, notching him to my entrance. "But now it's time to stop talking and start moving."
Nash growled once, sinking deep into me. "My God, Peyton. So good."
"So good," I echoed, feeling him fill me completely before he withdrew and thrust in again. "Don't go slow, Nash. Take me now. Make it wild."
He groaned again, but at the same time, he began to pull back and plunge in faster and faster. I wrapped my legs around his hips, digging my heels into his ass as it moved up and down. My fingers gripped his back, holding on for my life as he took me soaring, flying, singing into a timeless space where there was nothing but waves of pleasure breaking over my body, over and over again.
And then Nash went still, transforming into one tensed, hard muscle as he let go, spilling into me with one final roar of gratification.
He rolled to fall next to me, wrapping his arms around me to take me with him and holding me against his chest. It felt as though the heat between us might ignite the sheets and consume us, bed and all.
"That was—" Nash was still trying to catch his breath. "Holy fuck, Peyton. Just—that's it. You are incredible. My dreams—nothing I ever imagined came close to tonight."
I laughed breathlessly. "It was beyond anything I've ever known." I smoothed his hair back. "You are a god, Nash Sampson. If I had known this in high school?—"
"Oh, sweetheart, I don't think I was capable of this in high school," he said wryly. "I think if I'd gotten the chance, I probably would've embarrassed myself the moment you took off your bra."
I giggled. "The glory days, huh?"
He harrumphed in amusement, his eyes still closed. "Yeah, not so much. I wouldn't go back there if you paid me."
"Mmmm." I lay with my head against his thudding heart, letting my fingers roam over his skin. "I agree. But can I just say that I'm so very glad that Peg and Charlie talked me into coming to this reunion, even though I fought them hard on it?"
"You can say that, if I can admit that I'm equally happy that Reggie and Max pushed me into coming. And that I was a real son of a bitch to both of them before I left, too."
"I thought about just driving past the exit for the Cove and going down to Cocoa Beach," I confessed. "And then I planned to tell Peg and Charlie that I'd come to the reunion and had a wonderful time."
"No judgement here. I told you that I was planning to leave as soon as I saw Jared. I was hoping to be heading north by Friday morning."
I rolled a little, resting my chin on the center of Nash's chest. "Are you happy that you stayed?"
"So happy." He crunched up until his lips could reach mine. "So very happy."
"Good. Me, too." I let out a contented sigh.
"Peyton." Nash sounded tentative, his voice a little gruff. "I want to ask you something, but I don't want to ruin—this."
"Unless you're asking if I can leave right now, I don't think anything could ruin this."
"Okay." He threaded his fingers through my hair. "We just re-connected?—"
I snorted. "That's one way of describing it."
"—and we found out that we live near each other. Crazy close, as a matter of fact."
"Mmmmhmmm." My eyes began to flutter closed.
"I don't want this weekend to be a one-time thing." He twirled a strand of my hair around one of his fingers. "I want . . . I was hoping, I mean . . . that we could see each other again once we're back home in Georgia."
"Oh." My eyes flew open now.
"I told you that I never got over you. I never thought I'd have another chance to be with you—that we'd get a second chance."
"I know, Nash. I didn't think so either. But—" I began to sit up, to be able to see him better. "This weekend—it isn't reality. It's a time set apart, you know. In a way, we've been back in the past for the last few days, getting a chance to—well, like you said, a second chance. And it's been wonderful." I hesitated, groping with what to say next. "We both have real lives, though. And I'm not sure if—if this beautiful second chance from the past will fit in with those lives."
"Why wouldn't they?" Nash demanded. "We're both single. Unattached. We're not ancient, Peyton. But we only have so many years left to do this. I don't want to lose this opportunity. I don't want to lose you. Again."
I touched his cheek. "I don't want to lose you, either. I'm a little scared, though, that in real life, I might be . . . disappointing to you. I might not live up to this crazy image of me that you have in your head."
"That's impossible." Nash sat up, too, slipping his arm around me and easing me closer to him. "There's nothing you could do that would disappoint me, Peyton." He kissed my cheek, my nose, my eyes and then my lips. "Just say we can see each other again after this weekend is over. We don't have to jump into anything serious, but let's see where this goes when we're together back in Georgia."
My insides were churning, and alarm bells were sounding in my head, but then Nash brushed his hand over my breast, his lips making insistent forays down my neck, and I couldn't remember why the two of us together wasn't the best idea ever.
"All right," I murmured. "Let's take a chance and see what happens."