Page 97 of For Better or Hearse
“I could, and correct it now, but it’ll inevitably get fucked up later.”
“What’s later?” A smug smile toys at the edges of Nathaniel’s lips.
She glares at him.
Damn this man.
She’s saved by the server. They order drinks and homemade crispy gau gee.
“Now you,” Ash says to Augustus. Reaching across the table, she covers his hand. “You have a good reason. All the last drinks.”
“Until I can’t.” Nostalgia flickers through his pale-blue eyes. “I’ll never forget that glass of red wine on my wedding day. Or the scotch I had the summer of ’79.”
Nathaniel smiles like he’s heard this story before. “Is that when you were in Scotland?”
“I’m thinking maybe it was an Oban. No.” Augustus taps the table like he’s sending an SOS signal to his memories. “It was a Bruichladdich. Rosalea and I were on a yacht in the Irish Sea. We drank half a bottle, and when we woke up, we found a couple of common gulls had made a nest of our towels.”
Chuckling, Nathaniel pats his grandfather on the back.
Ash’s breath hitches at the sight.
Ugh. Why does he have to be just as wonderful as his grandfather?
“Nathaniel,” Augustus says, picking up the beer that’s just been delivered. “I’d like to talk to you about my last wishes.” He nods at Ash. “You too.”
Nathaniel grimaces, shifts in his seat. “Grandpops.”
“Ten minutes, we talk business, and then we have fun,” he says.
Nathaniel stares down into his beer, his jaw flexing. Pain creases his expression.
It’s automatic. The need to comfort him.
“It’s okay,” Ash says softly. Heartbeat accelerating, she covers his hand with hers.
He glances down at it, then up at her. Stunned. And then his entire body unclenches.
If Augustus notices, he says nothing.
“Okay.” Nathaniel rubs the side of his jaw as his face fades to a gentler expression. Inhaling a deep breath, he focuses all his attention on Augustus. “I’m here, Grandpops. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
He’s all stern business now, which makes him even sexier to Ash. Even with the grief in his eyes, she sees why he’s a great doctor. Compassionate, caring, even with the cold front. If she wasn’t melting before, she is now.
For the next fifteen minutes, Augustus details how Claire and Nathaniel are to be executors of the will. He goes over his plans for cremation and a ceremony that is already bought and paid for. They drink their drinks. Nathaniel inhales his first beer in five seconds flat, like he needs to numb the pain but nods along to every word his grandfather says.
As he talks, Ash fights off a wave of emotion. The vivid, chaotic noises of the bar don’t mesh with the somber conversation. And still, the vibes are warm. Like she’s wrapped in a calm embrace. So grateful that Nathaniel is here beside her.
They talk and drink all night. Happy memories. Nostalgia is king: Augustus’s childhood. Vegas and mobsters. Hotels and starlets.
It’s a night she’ll remember long after Augustus is gone.
Finally, when the band is blasting its way through a cover of a Deep Purple song, Augustus excuses himself to use the bathroom. Ash tracks his stuttering footsteps, and when she glances over, she finds Nathaniel is doing the same.
Nathaniel checks his dive watch. Lifts those stern brows of his. “It’s late.”
“Shit,” she swears. So absorbed in Augustus’s stories, she never noticed the time. “He’ll be tired tomorrow.”
“I think he needed this, though.”