Page 163 of For Better or Hearse

His mother bursts into a laugh. “Oh, Ash, no. It’s fine. In fact, it’s long overdue. It’s not sad or bad, it just is. The trip to Hawaii was just the icing on the cake. It showed me a lot of things. Things I’ve been missing or putting off in the interest of our family.”

“Such as?”

She smiles at him, the expression surprisingly warm for the topic of conversation. “You’re grown. All my children are grown. I want to do something for myself before…well, before our time’s up.”

Ash leans in. “Do tell.”

His mother beams at him. “I’m going to help your grandfather with his hotels. We don’t have a lot of time, but we’ll make the best of it. It’s our family business, and I want to keep it like that.” She inhales hard, swallows. “If your father shapes up, great. If he doesn’t, that’s fine as well. I have my life.”

There’s a brief shared glance, a smile between his mother and Ash.

His mother lifts her martini glass. “To change.”

“To change.” Ash winks.

“I’m proud of you, Mom,” he tells her.

She tuts and pauses as the waiter refills their waters. “Let’s talk about how proud I am of you.” Reaching across the table, she pats his hand. “I ran into Doctor Moser the other day. He says you got that transfer you wanted to the North Sea.”

Nathaniel goes rigid in his chair. Ice floods his veins.

Ash turns to him, her eyes full of shock and hurt.

Fuck. This isn’t how he wanted to tell her.

His mother sighs. “I know it’s dangerous, but I know you really wanted it.”

“Yeah.” His voice is gravel. “I did.”

His mother looks hopefully between them. “I suppose you two have a lot to figure out.”

“I suppose we do,” Ash replies coolly, narrowing her eyes at him.

His heart cracks when she slips her hand from his.

Everything was perfect.

And he’s the asshole who ruined it.

Ash sets her bag on the counter. She hasn’t uttered a single word since his mother dropped the bomb. Even now, she’s completely expressionless.

He shuts the front door to his penthouse.

“We need to talk,” he says on a sigh. Her cold shoulder is unbearable, and he’s so fucking pissed at himself. He should have known better than to keep it from her.

He won’t let her do this. Shut down. Ice him out.

“Do we?” she replies, turning to him and dropping her shoulders. “It seems clear what this is. Where it’s going. We knew it was a possibility, right? That it wouldn’t work? I just wish you would have told me.”

She laughs, the sound sad, dejected, and it tears a hole in his chest.

“Stop,” he orders, refusing to let her do this. “The last thing I would ever do is hurt you. Lie to you.”

“But you did. Why?”

“I was planning to tell you.” Regret eats at him from the inside. “I didn’t want you to find out like that.”

“But I did find out.” She shakes her head. “I’m not mad you’re going—I’m upset you didn’t tell me.”