Page 182 of For Better or Hearse

Ash rises, moving to stand beside him.

“I want a good toss,” she says. “Help me?”

He grasps her wrist. “Do it,” he says fiercely, despite the mild concern on his face. “I have you.”

Out in front, by her side or watching her back, he always does.

Smiling, Ash inches closer to the cliff edge. The sparkling ocean calls to her, the blue sky bigger than life.

Her vision blurs and her eyes sting, but with a steady heart, she leans out.

She hangs there, suspended partly off the ledge, into space, into the universe. Nathaniel’s hand, viselike, wrapped around her wrist. Never letting her go.

The wind carries and dips. Ash closes her eyes and inhales. Lets life wash through her. Lets the pieces of herself click together.

“I beat Nathaniel at chess,” she says to the nothingness. Her laugh is wet. “Barely. And just between you and me, I think he let me win. But god, Augustus, I adore that Very Tall Asshole.” She lifts her eyes to the sky. “I’ve never loved one like him. So thank you. For everything.”

Heart thundering, she opens her hand and lets go entirely.

Of Augustus.

If it’s possible for the ocean to get louder, the sunset more brilliant, the wind a fierce rush, it does.

She’s crying, and she doesn’t want it to stop. Tears stream down her face until her soul feels wrecked while at the same time at peace.

And then rocks crunch, and a warm, steady presence is behindher, pulling her into his arms. Back to him. On a gasp, Ash buries her face in Nathaniel’s muscled chest. They hold each other. Hearts, breaths, sighs in sync.

“Ashabelle.” He strokes her hair, calling her back to him.

She lifts her face. Her entire body, down to her bones, warms. “I’m okay. How are you?”

He tightens his hold. “I’m good.” His pained eyes move to the cliff edge. “He’ll miss a lot. But he gave so much too.”

Ash smiles.

He gave more than anyone expected.

The stunner of a surprise in Augustus’s will was the gift of his love of travel. Five years’ worth of reservations at his Hawaii hotels have already been booked, ensuring all the Whitfords can spend time together every year.

One more way he’s pulling the strings from the beyond.

“What time does everyone get in tonight?” she asks, slipping her leg between his.

A rough grunt falls from Nathaniel’s lips. “Six.” He cups the curve of her ass, primally pulling her closer. “My mother’s made reservations for a ten-course tasting menu.”

Ash groans. “You monsters.”

Kidding. Those monsters are now her in-laws. And she loves them, despite their annual turkey trot.

Claire’s thrived since she began working for Fox Hotel Group. Heading into her second year as co-owner, she plans to double the number of resorts worldwide. Tate’s on his third season of hisTater Talkspodcast. This time the subject is the spice trade with a special emphasis on pirates. Delaney’s made a name for herself in the horror movie circuit. There’s never been a better final girl.

And Don—he’s still his belligerent billionaire self. Albeit tamed a little. He and Claire have made it work, and these days, he’s only an asshole 2 percent of the time. But they all reserve the right to ban him from activities as they see fit.

Ash lowers her gaze to her wedding ring—a brilliant darkblue sapphire, almost as dark as the pearls she wears—then looks up at Nathaniel. “Tell me the escape plan now.”

He sweeps a kiss over her lips. “We bail mid-dinner. Shimmy out the bathroom window with a very big bottle of wine.”

Ash strokes a finger over his cheekbone, marveling at how lucky she is. Monsters, myths, legends. She has never held someone so heavy in her heart the way she holds Nathaniel. “And do what?”