There hadn’t been many boxes left for them to unpack after that. Dad ended up doing them while Nash paced, staring at a picture in his hand from the engagement series he and Sam had taken. Sorting out his feelings was a hopeless cause. What had his frame of mind been when he’d packed this stuff? Why would he torture himself by keeping this smiling photo?
He’d apparently been rational enough when he’d boxed his stuff at Sam’s that he hadn’t missed anything. At least, nothing jumped out at him as being missing. The cookbook Mom had given him, and even his toolbox that had been in the garage had made it through. Dad put the latter with Emmitt’s in the laundry alcove, then quietly broke down the last of the boxes.
“What do I even say to him?” Nash muttered for about the tenth time. Do you ever miss me? Did you actually love me?
No. It shouldn’t be about accusations. How many times had he been over it all in his head? Sam hadn’t done anything technically wrong. He loved Sam, and he knew Sam loved him back. Had loved him anyway. But he’d also always known that nobody would ever be able to displace Sam’s husband, Henry, from being Sam’s biggest love. He’d accepted that because Henry’d been dead and gone—supposedly—and Sam had never compared the two of them. Nash had loved Sam with his eyes wide open.
Logically he knew it was over and knew they were each blameless. Nash was a victim of circumstances. As Dad had said, he was a weird-shit magnet. Emotions don’t tend to listen to logic, though, the fuckers. As far as his emotions knew he’d been happily engaged a couple of days ago.
When the dreaded knock on the door finally arrived, the nausea he’d been fighting since the intercom buzzer alerted them to Sam’s imminent arrival came to a head. Nash dropped the photo he’d been clutching, clamped his good hand over his mouth, and stumbled for the small bathroom under the stairs.
Thankfully, pointedly leaving the toilet lid up was one of the ways Dad liked to stir the pot with Mom, and he’d been the last to use it. Nash bent over the bowl in the nick of time.
Needless to say, he hadn’t taken the time to close the bathroom door behind him. He had the presence of mind, once the contents of his stomach had emptied into the toilet, to feel bad for the trio who likely couldn’t help hearing it from the other room.
Nash flushed, then found a washcloth in the cabinet under the sink. Thankfully there was a bottle of mouthwash there, too. He wet the cloth and wiped his face, then tried to open the bottle with one hand. His hand shook as he placed the bottle between his thighs, then he dropped it and whimpered, reflexively, before remembering his listening audience.
He took a deep breath, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. He needed to get a grip. Falling apart like this wasn’t going to help matters.
Nash loudly and erratically sniffed back the snot that had automatically formed during his emotional outburst, then allowed his body to slide down the wall until his ass landed on the floor. It wasn’t a hard landing, but enough to jar his arm again. “Ow, fuck, goddammit!”
He sensed someone standing in the doorway. That someone squatted next to him. Please don’t be Sam. Please don’t be Sam. Nash opened his eyes and had never been so happy to see his father’s frowning face.
“Sorry,” Nash slurred. Dad must think his youngest son was the most pathetic sort of prissy loser. Nash’s brother Aaron had grown up to be much like their father—large, muscular, stoic—although with a more expressive face. Nash must be such a disappointment.
Dad shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he whispered. “I do. I shouldn’t have pushed you to do this yet. It’s too soon.”
Nash stared blankly at the floor. “No. You’re right. It’s not going to change until I can face this. Face him.”
He closed his eyes. Sam is the past. Emmitt is the present and the future.
Finally, Nash looked into his father’s steady gaze. “The sooner the better, so I can get on with my life. Myles is a good man. He deserves someone who can focus on him and love him back.” He kept his volume low. He was mortified enough without Sam hearing all this on top of the retching.
“That’s the spirit.” Dad picked up the fallen mouthwash bottle, stood, and offered Nash his free hand. Nash took it, warily pushed off with his feet, and allowed himself to be hoisted up.
Dad poured a measure of the mouthwash into a small paper cup from a stack he found in the drawer and handed it to Nash. Nash swished the minty solution around in his mouth, tilted back his head for a gargle, then spit it into the sink. Dad turned on the faucet to rinse it while Nash re-wiped his face.
There was no further reason to delay the meeting. Dad raised an arm to usher him out the door. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Ready as he was ever going to be, anyway.
Nash kept his head up and his pace steady as he rounded the corner to face his former fiancé. Sam stood rooted in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide, exuding…pity. Fuck that. Nash clenched his jaw and approached.
Mom, who’d been standing next to Sam, stepped away, motioning with her head for Dad to follow her into their bedroom.
When the door shut behind his parents, Nash said, “Sam, how are you?” He wasn’t sure if he was pulling off the “nothing is wrong, let’s act like we’re old friends bumping into each other on the street” act or not, but he was going to try.
“I’m…I’m sorry to see you injured like this, Nash. I was horrified when I saw that video.” Sam started to put up his arms like he wanted to give Nash a hug, but then dropped them with a shake of his head. “Sorry, I don’t want to hurt you. Thank you for letting me see you, but I wish your father had told me you were feeling so ill. If you’re not ready for company yet, I won’t stay and bother you.”
Did Sam really think that vomiting episode had been all about a physical reaction to this injury?
“What did Harley tell you?”
Sam shook his head. “Not much. Just that you’d been released from the hospital and were home again.” Then Sam smiled, and his eyes lit up. “He mentioned you were engaged again. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that news. Congratulations, Nash.”
Fucking Harley. What was he trying to pull, sending Sam to see him without warning him about the amnesia?
Then again, maybe that was the perfect tactic. Sam didn’t need to know—it would just make him feel uneasy. Besides, the last thing Nash needed was more pity. “Thanks. Myles is a great guy. And don’t worry about that little display, I’m actually feeling quite a bit better each day.”
“Oh, good.” Sam didn’t seem convinced, despite Nash’s words. “Do you want to sit down?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like something to drink first.” Nash walked toward the kitchen. “Nausea’s one of the possible side effects of my pain meds. That’s the only time I’ve actually tossed my cookies with it, but I think I’ll feel better if I grab a little snack or something.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I should have thought.”
Nash opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Can I get you a glass of V8 Fusion, apple juice, iced tea, or water? Or I could make you some coffee if you’d rather.”
“I…oh hell, I don’t want you waiting on me, Nash. I should be getting that for you.” Sam hovered at the edge of the kitchen island as if unsure of the proper etiquette for this situation.
“Nonsense, I’m not an invalid, and treating me like one won’t help me recuperate,” Nash replied, channeling his mother. He pointed at the row of bar stools. “Sit and tell me about what’s going on with you lately.”
He pulled the V8 Fusion juice out of the refrigerator and placed it on the counter. Then he opened the cabinet with the glasses and selected two.
Sam blinked a few times, then sat as directed. “Oh, uh, well let’s see. School’s started back up, so I’m busy with that. Henry’s teaching a night class—I think he’s happy to be interacting with a wide variety of people again. Aiden’s started school. We’ve got him in a Montessori. We figured that’ll be best considering his upbringing so far.”
Nash nodded as if he had the slightest clue what Sam was talking about. Apparently Sam and Henry had jumped right into the adoption process. Good for them. Nash was amazed by how calm he felt at the news. Sam’s life had moved on. That was no longer a metaphysical concept; it was an established fact.
Nash’s life had moved on, too. Although he still couldn’t remember it, he could now feel it to his core. He had a fiancé who was a damned good man whom he was proud to have attracted.
He poured the juice and pulled Mom’s hummus out of the refrigerator. He removed the tea towel covering a bowl of garlic pita chips she’d baked earlier in the afternoon, then pushed it all toward Sam and the empty seat beside him.
Rounding the counter, Nash joined Sam and took a long drink of juice.
Sam sipped from his glass, then put it down and grinned. “Thank you. I guess you really are doing all right. You had me unnerved there when I first arrived. Your color’s better now.”
“Yeah, I’ve been unpacking stuff all morning, with Dad’s help, of course.” Hopefully, that would help ease Sam’s concerns. “Myles only recently moved in, and I was in the process when the accident happened.”
“I see. Myles seems like a nice guy.”
Sam had met him? Nash nodded again, since Sam had said that as if Nash would know what he was talking about.
Sam continued. “I wouldn’t have thought him to be your type, but then again, I only met him professionally when he examined Henry’s arm, so he’s probably different away from the office.”
Ah. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I knew him for years at the hospital and wouldn’t have thought him to be my type either.” Of course, he’d been married to a woman at the time. Nash took another sip of his juice. “Now I know he’s exactly my type.”
Nash dipped a pita chip and took a bite.
“Your parents seem fine,” Sam said. “I guess all is well with them…and Aaron?”
“Yep. Staying busy.”
“Look, Nash…I know you got tired of hearing this, but since we haven’t spoken for months, and it seems like you might be in a more receptive frame of mind, I’d like to apologize to you again.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve moved on, and it’s not like you cheated or something.”
“Well, yeah, but still…I didn’t handle things well. I should’ve just made the decision within a day instead of dragging it out. I especially should have called you from Hawaii. I had so much on my mind, I didn’t think about the news crews, and that our reunion would be televised. I didn’t want to break up over the phone, but in hindsight with a clear head it’s obvious it would’ve been kinder to do so.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Strange. It was almost awkward speaking with Sam. As if they were mere acquaintances meeting on the street, forcing chit-chat.
“Dad says he ran into you at the hospital last week.”
Shit. He’d spoken to Truman? “Oh, uh, yeah.”
“He says to tell you the invitation to join the family for Thanksgiving or Christmas is extended to Myles, too, of course.”
Interesting. So they were all on good enough terms that Sam’s family would invite him for a holiday dinner? Henry wasn’t jealous at all of Nash?
“That’s very kind of them to offer.”
At the sound of Emmitt’s voice, Nash jumped in his seat. “Holy shit, that front door’s quiet.”
Emmitt placed a shoebox on the counter. Probably the sneakers with the Velcro closure he’d promised to buy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Last surgery got cancelled so I’m earlier than I said.”
Nash knew better than to ask about the cancellation. It could be anything from the patient treating the “no eating before surgery” rule as a mild suggestion, to the patient dying. Harley liked to gripe about HIPAA and how Nash never shared the juicy details from work. Now he’d get to be on the receiving end of not knowing.
“Well, I’m glad to see you.” Nash was stunned by how truthful that simple statement was. He was sitting next to Sam, whom he’d been obsessing over in his mind for the past couple days, but could honestly say he was glad…no…tickled to see Emmitt earlier than expected.
Better yet, he wasn’t dreading Sam’s departure. Not that he was looking to hasten it at all, but he definitely wasn’t going to shed any tears over it.
Nash stood as Emmitt came around the corner of the counter and reached for him. Emmitt’s hello kiss lingered, and Nash tingled at the restrained, yet possessive display. When the kiss broke, Emmitt’s smile was echoed in his eyes. “You look like you’re feeling better.”
“That oxy really helps. The pain’s always noticeable, but I was able to concentrate on the unpacking.”
“That’s great.” Emmitt peered over Nash’s shoulder. “Sam, it’s nice seeing you again. I hope all is well with your family.”
“Yes, they’re all healthy and happy. It’s good to see you, too. I’m delighted to hear about your engagement to Nash. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Emmitt stepped back, picked up the shoebox, and looked at Nash. “Yvette wants you to call her. She’s moving next month to an apartment with a steep pet rent, so she won’t object if you’d like to take back Tigger.”
“Tigger!” Nash stopped himself just in time from literally throwing himself into Emmitt’s arms.
Emmitt’s eyes widened along with his grin. “Careful, now. It’s not worth hurting yourself.” He pulled in Nash for a gentler hug. “I remembered hearing you ask around the OR when you were looking for a new home for him. I take it you’re glad for the chance to get the same one back?”
“You are totally forgiven for the dog comment.”
Emmitt laughed. He planted a kiss on Nash’s brow. “I wasn’t thinking about how inconvenient that would be, anyway, considering we live on the twenty-fifth floor.” He nodded toward Sam. “I’ll head upstairs and let you two finish your visit.”
“Oh, don’t rush out on my account.” Sam stood. “I need to get going, anyway.”
Nash turned to face him. “Well, it was great visiting with you. Say hi to the fam for me.” It felt wonderful to be able to say those words and genuinely mean them.
“Yeah, will do. Please do seriously consider that invitation. I know everyone would love to see you, and meet Myles.”
“Uh, actually…” Nash stole a glance at Emmitt. “We haven’t discussed our holiday plans yet, but Myles’ grandfather lives with us, too, so whatever plans we make will include him.”
“No problem. You know Mom and Dad…the more the merrier.” Sam cleared his throat. “Thanks again for the visit. We were all pretty concerned about you. I’m glad to be able to put those worries to rest.”
“I’ll be fine. The next few weeks will still suck a bit, but overall no worries.”
Mom and Dad emerged from their bedroom and said their good-byes to Sam. When the door closed behind him, Nash leaned against it, smiled widely at the trio watching him, and declared, “Harley’s a genius.”
* * * *