Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89012 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
She takes a sip of her drink. “Okay, I worry that I’m too afraid of being happy to actually let myself be happy.”
“What? You’re too afraid of being happy to be happy. Is that what you said?”
“Yes.”
“Please, explain.”
Ashley sets her glass down and scoots back in her chair. “I’ve wanted a family since I was a little girl. I wanted the dolls and dollhouses and started choosing baby names in the third grade.”
“I know. I remember when you were going to name a boy Anthony, and everyone teased me because it was my middle name.”
She blushes.
“Anyway …”
“Anyway,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s always been my dream. But every time I’m happy in a relationship, it goes to shit. Any relationship. I’m happy, it ends. It’s like clockwork. The knife twists in my back or heart or, you know, wherever it would hurt the most.”
My chest tightens. “That’s probably the universe saving you from the wrong guy.” Like Eton, thank God.
“Probably. But it was the guys before him too. Hell, it was the same with my dad.”
“How so?”
“When I was just learning how to have a relationship with him, started to lean on him, began to appreciate having a dad when so many of my friends didn’t—he nuked it all. He walked away and didn’t talk to me for years. It was almost as if he was waiting for me to get to that point so he could destroy us because, if he would’ve done it before then, I wouldn’t have been so devastated. That would’ve been easier on my mother.”
I can’t imagine having a father like that. Even more, I can’t imagine hurting Ashley.
She sighs and fiddles with the end of the tablecloth. “It took me a very long time to even want to try to resolve some of our wounds. And then, just as things were starting to sort of scab over—when peace with the whole relationship was just within reach—he died. He died and took with him any chance of rebuilding anything good.” She chuckles sadly. “If I thought he had the choice, I’d say he chose to do it that way. He did love consistency.”
The pain in her eyes is tempered by her strength. Hearing her be so vulnerable, so open to me about this makes me want to pull her into my lap and hold her. Try to make it better.
I lean forward, the candle flames dancing across the table. “What matters is not who he was. Don’t focus on him. What matters is who it made you.” I wait until she looks me in the eye. “And I have to say that the woman you are is pretty fucking amazing.”
Our gazes lock in what feels like an embrace. It fills me with warmth, comfort, and a sense of everything being right. The risk of coming with her, of taking this step that could end in a disaster, is worth it if not just for this moment.
The cart returns. Our glasses are refilled, and plates are taken away. As the servers work, Ashley and I sit quietly, sneaking smiles at one another.
“We have hand-cut filets with béarnaise sauce, crispy fingerlings with herb butter, and cremini mushroom and kale with garlic cream and parmesan.” Our entrées are presented to us. “Can we get you anything else at the moment?”
“This is great. Thank you,” I say before they slip away.
The sun begins its final slide below the horizon. Ashley and I both stop to watch the sky show off in an array of colors that slowly melt and fade. It’s a beautiful tribute to our first day on the island.
“I see why people come here on their honeymoon,” she says, smiling.
“Are you happy you spite-picked it?”
“I am. I’m glad I stuck to my guns and did what I wanted, especially considering …” She groans. “Eton wanted to go to California.” She rolls her eyes. “Now I know it’s because one of his girlfriends lives there, and he wanted to get double duty out of the trip.”
“What?”
The fuck? He fucking cheated … on Ashley?
My eyes nearly pop out of my head.
How dumb could this motherfucker be?
“Yup. I didn’t know it then, obviously,” she says.
But you found out at some point. That bastard.
“It was odd that he was so adamant about not coming here and only finally agreed if I paid for it,” she says.
I hold up a hand. “Whoa. Wait. You paid for this trip?”
She nods.
“Your fucking ex-fiancé was not only cheating on you, but he made you pay for your honeymoon?” My voice rises. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Ash …”
I shake my head. I honestly have no words. None. None that would be helpful, anyway.
“You know you don’t deserve that, right?” I ask.
She lifts her chin slowly until her gaze levels with mine.
My heart squeezes at the look in her eyes.