Identity

“You cried at night for weeks after we left.”

“What we think our children don’t know,” Audrey murmured. “Still, I didn’t come home. Gram and Pa never liked him. They gave him respect as my husband, as your father, but there was never any genuine affection there on either side. So I didn’t come home, because that meant I’d failed.”

And that, Morgan realized, she understood perfectly. Hadn’t she done the same thing after Rozwell?

“Instead, I dragged you from place to place, telling myself we’d find just the right one and settle. But I was running from that failure.”

“You didn’t fail.”

“It felt like failure. He married again the day after the divorce finalized.”

“I didn’t know that. Not that fast.”

“The very next day. God, that was a slap in the face. Replaced, just that easily, after all the years of trying to be what he wanted. So I kept running, then you went off to college, and I was lost.”

“Mom.”

“It came home to me that I’d needed you more than you’d needed me. You’re so like Gram, baby. Strong, driven, independent, and Jesus, so clever. And somewhere in there, I realized I’d done a really good job raising you, and I’d done it on my own. After a while, I came home, and it wasn’t like failure. It was coming home. And somewhere in there, I stopped loving him and saw things, saw him, more clearly. He failed, just as you said. He failed as a husband, and God knows he failed as a father. And we’re still okay.”

“We’re more than okay. I never gave you enough credit for doing so much alone. I’m giving it to you now.”

“It means a lot.” She squeezed Morgan’s hand. “I’m so proud of you. I can regret not coming home sooner, bringing you here, to your grandparents, giving you that solid foundation, but if I had, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now, like this.”

“I resented the moves.”

“Oh, baby, I know you did.”

“But they helped make me what I am. So no regrets. I thought you were weak, Mom, but what you were and are is incredibly strong. Nash women.”

Audrey leaned over, hugged hard. “For purely selfish reasons, I’m really glad you had sex with Miles.”

On a rolling laugh, Morgan leaned back. “Okay. Why?”

“Because, for whatever reason, it opened this door—one I kept closed too long, and just didn’t know how to open again. Now we’ve walked through it together. And we’re just fine.”

“We’re more than fine. I’m glad I came home. The reasons why are horrible, but I’m glad I came home. Did you keep his name because of me?”

“I … I didn’t want you to have a different last name than your mom.”

“You should let that go, too. Hell, so should I.” The idea struck so right she wondered why she’d never thought of it before.

“You know, Mom, we both have the same middle name—Gram’s name.”

“Pa never minded she kept her name. ‘Livvy Nash,’ he’d say, ‘come see this.’”

“I remember. We’d all have the same name if we both went with Nash. Legally. Nash women, Mom. It can’t be that complicated.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Same question to you.”

“Nash women. Yes. Oh, I like that. I really like that.”

“Let’s do it.”

“If you’re sure, I can call Rory Jameson tomorrow, ask how we go about it.”

“Yes. Let’s be who we are, Mom. Audrey and Morgan Nash.”

Later, in her room, she studied herself in the mirror. She couldn’t say if she looked like a woman who’d had a lot of great sex, but she looked and felt like a woman who’d found a kind of contentment she hadn’t expected.

Yes, the reasons for finding it began with horror, and she wouldn’t thank Gavin Rozwell for it. She wouldn’t thank the Colonel either, come to that.

But she lived in a household of strong women, had work she loved, and—at least for now—had a man she liked very much who liked her back.

“Morgan Nash,” she murmured, and smiled to herself. “That’s who I am, and nobody can take that away.”





Chapter Nineteen



She had sex before pizza, which didn’t surprise her in the least. And when they finally settled down to pizza and wine, and Howl to the rawhide bone the size of a Buick she’d bought before the pizza, she told him about the conversation with her ladies.

“So you were right about them knowing, and now I know my grandmother was at least a little bit of a free-love hippie before she married my grandfather.”

“I already knew that.”

“How?”

He lifted his glass. “I also have a grandmother. While she wasn’t really a free-love hippie, she’s expressed some admiration, and it strikes like maybe a little envy, for your grandmother’s youthful lifestyle.”

“Really? I think, given time and opportunity, I’m going to get Gram to reveal more about that youthful lifestyle. I also had a long, overdue talk with my mom about the Colonel. I was a kid, so pretty self-absorbed, and really didn’t understand how hard he was on her. Or how hard the divorce was for her. She kept us jumping from place to place after, and I resented that. I wanted roots.”

She glanced around at his yard, back at his house. “Like you have here. What I didn’t understand is that she wasn’t flighty or weak. She was coping. She loved him. It’s hard for me to see why, but she loved him.”

“Love’s a strange and inexplicable thing.”

“Apparently.” She bit into another slice. “Ever been there?”

“No.”

“Me neither. Attraction, serious like, but not that last tumble. He didn’t feel it for us, and it felt good to really acknowledge that, between the two of us. My mother talked to your father today.”

“Okay.”

“About the legalities of dropping Albright and being—legally—the Nash women. My grandmother’s name, both our middle names. Mom kept Albright because of me, I kept it because it was just always there. It doesn’t have to be. The process isn’t really complicated, but it’s a lot of steps, starting with the county probate thing. Your dad’s going to take care of it—lots of documents to change.”

“Driver’s license, social security, passport.”

“Yeah, like that. We’ll end up with spanking-new identification. It’s not really new identities, though, just having a name that matches who we are. All three of us.”

“Your mother’s birth name would be Kennedy, right?”

“Yeah, but going with Nash all around feels right. It feels good, the whole thing. So another side benefit to us having all that sex.”

“I’m planning on more, so we can see what else comes out of it.”

She smiled at him over her wine. “So, can I ask how your workday went, or do you like leaving that back at the resort?”

“Work never stays just at the resort. That’s running a family business.”

“I get that, entirely. My ladies are always talking a new piece, a new idea. Just last night, when I got home, they were having pound cake because they’d decided to add it to the café menu. So, workday?”

“Monday morning meeting with department heads, a request from the head butler to update their kitchen and storage areas. Accounting reports, and I was spared from that for a too-brief period when Jake came by.”