by Jean Oram
Ashton’s eyes met hers, his hands suddenly still.
“If you bring me anything other than a cinnamon bun, though, I’ll think it’s a sign you aren’t interested in seeing if we can become friends again.”
His shoulders relaxed. “I’d like to be friends.”
“I think I would, too.” She shifted awkwardly, her heart hurting from the effort of letting go of her pain so she could make room for the future and whatever it might bring.
Ashton zipped around the backyard. He needed to dig just one more hole before he left to meet Zoe for her coffee break.
He couldn’t be late. Zoe was offering him a lifeline.
She’d tried to take some of the blame for their breakup, but it wasn’t hers to take.
He stopped moving. He needed to find the courage to tell her the whole truth. She was the kind of person who felt comfort in knowing everything, even the things he’d rather leave where they belonged—in the past.
He just hoped his failures didn’t cause him to fall too deeply in her estimation.
Ashton finished the hole, and quickly leaned the shovel beside the small plastic garden shed he and Zoe had built from a kit last year, early on in their budding relationship. She’d had it delivered and had been staring at it in her front yard when he’d happened by on an evening walk. At that point they’d been out on only one date, even though they texted fairly regularly, and he’d ended up stopping to help her.
It had been a perfect evening where they’d laughed and talked, the time flying by. It was while putting the roof on the small unit that he’d realized he wanted to marry her. Her smile and willingness to bend instead of fight had won him over, as well as her contradictory quickness to stand firm and say her piece when she knew she was in the right.
And yet, when he’d left her for Maliki, she hadn’t stood up for their relationship, but had remained silent. He understood now that it was because she’d been afraid of losing him. If he’d given her the chance to come forward and speak, would things have turned out differently?
He knew they would have. It was the reason he’d shut her out. She would have convinced him to help from afar rather than diving in like he had.
Realizing he’d spent the past five minutes staring at the shed, caught in the past, Ashton hightailed it over to Sweet Caroline’s to pick up their afternoon treat.
He hustled up to the counter, where Caroline was starting a fresh pot of coffee.
“Ashton, go wash your hands.”
He glanced down and caught sight of the fingerprints he’d left on her pristine counter.
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he returned from cleaning up, he met her at the counter again.
“Two cinnamon buns to go, please.”
She shook her head. “All sold out. Cookies? Pie?” She waved to the glass display filled with other goodies.
His hands went to the glass as Zoe’s words replayed in his mind. If you bring me anything other than a cinnamon bun, though, I’ll think it’s a sign you aren’t interested in seeing if we can become friends again.
It had to be cinnamon buns. He gave Caroline a desperate look. “Day olds? Week olds? Please. They have to be—”
“I’m all out, hon.”
“Can you call Zoe and tell her that?”
“And why would I do that?” Caroline asked. Her eyebrows suddenly lifted as comprehension dawned. “Ah. I see.” She moved to the pies, dishing out two slices of key lime into a takeout box. “She likes my pie.”
“Can you call her? Please?”
Caroline nodded and wiped her hands on the gingham apron tied around her waist. “Sure, dear.” She lifted her chin to the man waiting in line behind Ashton.
He refused to give up his spot until she promised. “Please?”
“I said I would.”
“Now?”
“As soon as I have a free moment. Now hurry along or her break will be over before you get there.”
She shooed him away, and Ashton reluctantly left. When he reached the guest services desk it was already ten past three and Zoe was just finishing a conversation with a woman in baggy shorts, a dab of blue paint on her cheek.
“Ashton, this is Hope Ryan, my assistant.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Hope smiled, hefting a panel with a beach scene painted on it.
“She helps me with weddings. She’s an artist, assistant…everything!”
“Speaking of weddings, I’d better get these hung before I head home.” Hope and her painting disappeared out the lobby’s side door.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Ashton said.
“Thanks for bringing us some buns,” Zoe said, taking the container as she walked around her desk. Her hair had lost some of the curl it had had this morning, but it still bounced as she led him outside. “I was just finishing up the latest newsletter, and I’m hoping you can check it out later to see if I got the automation thing set up correctly. It’s definitely more complicated than I thought it would be.”
“Sure. Sweet Caroline’s was—”
“I’m so glad you brought her cinnamon buns. They’re my favorite.” She turned, giving him a bright smile that made his heart stop. That smile was for him. Nobody else.
“She was out of—”
“This is just like old times. If even one thing was out of place it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”
“Did Caroline call?” he asked nervously.
“Why?” They were outside now, at a picnic table in the shade, where a nice breeze came off the ocean. Perfect view, perfect temperature, perfect companion. There was only one problem.
Zoe sat at one end of the bench and looked up at him, a silent invitation for him to sit beside her. He sat, facing her the best he could.
“Caroline—” he began, but Zoe had opened the box, her ready smile fading. “They were all out. I asked Caroline to call and tell you that this isn’t a sign I don’t want to be friends. There’s actually nothing I’d like more.”
Zoe was trying to suppress a smile.
“What’s so funny?”
“Caroline didn’t need to call.” She laughed, handing him one of the forks the café owner had placed inside the container. “Shall we?”
“You knew?”
She took a bite of the pie, her lips still curved upward in amusement. “I did.”
“If we were closer to the ocean, I’d toss you in,” he grumbled.
“I had you going, didn’t I?”
“She never runs out of cinnamon buns. I thought you were going to…I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be good.” He felt exhausted from the constant stress of worrying.
Zoe was smiling, her eyes lit up with mischief. “This is for the dirty rotten egg thing.”
“How is this about that?” he muttered. “You were the one trying to cheat by going in without changing into your bathing suit.”
She laughed and he got the feeling she was holding something back.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Zoe took another bite of pie, giving him a triumphant and slightly smug look. “I’m guessing Caroline sold out around seven this morning, because she had a large order come in from the resort, and then didn’t have time to bake more because of a large cookie order. Which was also from the resort.”
“You knew.” He waved his fork at her. “You set me up.”
She giggled and leaned away. An invitation. Ashton dropped his fork and reached for her, tickling her ribs. She shifted and squirmed, her body landing against his. She felt so good, so right. He slowed his onslaught, inhaling the scent of her hair.
He felt his whole world open up when he was with her. How had he ever believed it was right to leave her side even for one moment?
“I missed you.”
Zoe glanced up at him from her spot against his chest before carefully putting space between them again. She smoothed her hair, avoiding his gaze as she said, “I missed you, too.”
He was overcome with gratit
ude and hope. If only forgiving himself would come as naturally as being friends with Zoe.
Zoe finished work and met Ashton outside. There was a five o’clock wedding happening on the beach, but in an uncharacteristic move, she’d left the details completely in the hands of the wedding coordinator—the bride’s mother. The woman knew where everything was, and had Hope’s number if she needed anything.
Over the past year, Zoe had become a zealot when it came to making sure every bride had her perfect day. But when Ashton mentioned renting a paddleboard from the resort that evening, she’d seized the moment to spend more time with him. Just to get to the bottom of his marital mystery, she told herself. Not to fill that void that had been achingly present since he’d left a year ago. The void that seemingly only one man could fill: Ashton.
The plan was to drive to a quiet cove just outside town where breakers wouldn’t knock them around as they stood on the wide boards and tried to navigate the open water like Venetian gondoliers.
“As a resort guest I feel I should be paying to use the sports equipment. Are you sure it’s okay to borrow these?” Ashton asked, as he strapped two paddleboards to the roof of his car.
“No, I became a huge rule breaker after you left me,” Zoe teased.
A furrow appeared between Ashton brows and she quickly apologized for sinking a knife into the wound they were both trying to mend. “That wasn’t fair.”
“It’s okay. I know you were joking.” He met her gaze over the hood of his car. “Shall we?” He’d snugged the last strap, tucking its loose end deftly into place before opening the driver’s side door.
Once they were seated she shifted to face him as he pulled out of the resort parking lot, determined not to let things get awkward. “Ashton—”
“It’s fine. Really.”
She didn’t intend for him to sweep everything under the rug, or for her to give the impression that breaking her heart had been fine. But they were never going to move past things if they continued on the way they were.
At a stop sign Ashton looked over to give her a half smile, but she could see the strain. She reminded herself that in the last few months he’d lost not only his wife, but also the child he’d believed was his.
“It’s okay to still be grieving,” Zoe assured him. “It’s natural.”
“I didn’t love her,” he said with an unfamiliar stubbornness.
“But you married her. You’re still going to grieve.”
“I’m…mad at Maliki.” The energy radiating off Ashton was impressive. He was squeezing the steering wheel and he let out a shaky breath. “I’m furious at her, as well as myself.”
“According to psychologists, anger is one of the five stages of grief.”
“It’s not grief-induced. Trust me.”
They were at the edge of town now, and Ashton stopped at a crosswalk for a family pushing a stroller. He was frowning at them, his gaze trailing after them as they made it safely from the parking lot across to the boardwalk and beach.
“Do you miss the baby, too?” Zoe asked softly.
For a moment she thought he was going to ignore the question, shut her out.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Like crazy.”
“It must’ve been difficult to lose what you thought was going to be your family.”
“Maliki wanted what was best for her baby,” Ashton said, as he pulled out onto the highway that ran along the coast.
“But not for you?”
“Obviously,” he said, his tone hard, unforgiving.
Sand drifted across the asphalt in one wind-swept spot, and Ashton said, “Are you sure this cove isn’t going to be full of waves? I’m starting to think you’re taking me out here to drown me. Or at least laugh at me before I do it myself.”
“The wind is coming from the right direction. The cove will be perfect, I promise.”
At a solitary palm tree and an old, faded wood sign, Zoe directed Ashton to turn right. He parked the car in the secluded paved lot and they looked out over the quiet water.
“Told ya it would be calm.” Zoe pointed to the hills sheltering the cove. “This all blocks the prevailing wind.”
They put on their life preservers and carried the paddles to the shore, returning to retrieve the long boards. “I got some really nice feedback on today’s newsletter,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Thanks for your help.”
“I didn’t do much, but you’re welcome.”
Since his night inside the cottage, he hadn’t gone back to the tent. And Zoe had stopped looking for a place to move to, knowing her own home would soon be ready for her and the cats, and that their current roommate situation would be fine until then.
They spent an hour out on the water, Ashton picking up the sport with ease. Finally tired from paddling, Zoe sat down on her board, hugging her legs as she watched him navigate about. He had a serious look that almost gave him a childlike innocence.
Noticing that she was taking a break, Ashton paddled her way, then sat down and let his board drift against hers.
“You know what I could go for?” Zoe asked.
“What?”
“S’mores.” Melted chocolate and marshmallow smushed between two graham crackers. Yum. “Whoever invented them should have gotten an award.”
“Do they still make them on the beach every night?”
“Guests can with the group, but I happen to know someone who has a key to the cupboard where everything is kept. She also knows about a private fire pit a little ways from the resort.”
“I happen to like that person.” Ashton’s warm, crooked smile made her heart lift.
“I’ll have to remember that.”
They drifted for a while, watching a pod of porpoises across the cove, playing or fishing, she wasn’t sure which.
“Ashton?” Zoe asked, breaking the silence. “Why didn’t you fight for the baby?”
“She wasn’t rightfully mine.”
“But you were…” She cleared the sudden emotion from her throat. “You were married to her mother, and she used you—wanted you to be the dad by, the sound of it. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“I thought it did. I was listed on the birth certificate, and Maliki said Jaelyn was mine. But two weeks after Maliki passed on Quentin appeared, insisting that she was his. I took him to court. Maliki knew I wasn’t the father. She lied to me and used me, because Quentin had told her he didn’t want to be a dad and wouldn’t help her.”
“Surely the courts took that into account?”
“Quentin claimed he didn’t know about Jaelyn until after Maliki died. He was adamant, and the court mandated paternity tests even though the math put Jaelyn as mine, not his.” He winced as if retelling the story physically hurt. “I felt self-righteous about him being in the wrong, up until the crushing moment of truth. Maliki had lied to me, used me and even cheated on me. Jaelyn wasn’t mine, and the courts agreed she should be with Quentin.”
Ashton fell quiet, his face a mask of anger, betrayal and pain.
Horrified on his behalf, Zoe stared out over the water for a moment. To step out of a good relationship to marry a woman you thought was carrying your child. Then to have her pass away, and the real father step forward and take away the baby you thought was yours… What a slap across the face.
“That’s awful.” No wonder he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I still don’t know why he changed his mind about wanting her. They did home studies, the works, and deemed him—a man with a criminal past—to be adequate father material. I’ve spent the past three and a half months…” His voice gave out and he took a moment to collect himself as Zoe reached over to squeeze his hand in silent support. “I’ve had to help him build a relationship with Jaelyn so he can be her dad. And every time I had to say goodbye…” His voice broke again, the anguish he was trying to disguise, so deep it brought tears to Zoe’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Ashton.”
&n
bsp; He shook his head briskly. “It’s over now. She’s his. I have no further responsibilities.”
Zoe wished she could say the right thing—whatever would remove the pain from his tortured gaze.
She just didn’t know what it was.
Ashton leaned back against the log resting in the sand, a piece of driftwood polished by the ocean waves. After paddleboarding, Zoe had led him past the resort fire pit, where guests were swapping tales and roasting marshmallows. They’d kept walking with their pilfered supplies and blanket, until they were at what amounted to a private beach, secluded and quiet, and beautifully tranquil as the sun dipped below the horizon.
They’d built a fire together, using smaller pieces of driftwood that had collected along the edge of the grassy dunes during a storm.
“Want this one?” Ashton asked, angling the roasting stick with a toasted marshmallow in Zoe’s direction. She had settled into the sand beside him, not quite touching, but close enough that he could feel her warmth and the brush of her shirtsleeve whenever she moved.
She plucked the browned marshmallow off the stick and jammed it between two cookies and a square of chocolate, making a sandwich. She didn’t wait for the chocolate to melt before taking a bite.
“Mmm,” she said. “My favorite.”
Ashton reached for another marshmallow and began toasting it for himself.
Between battling the waves on the paddleboard and working hard in Zoe’s yard, he was comfortably tired. Add in the emotional drain of reiterating part of his Maliki and Quentin story and he was bordering on exhausted. It didn’t help that the crackling fire, empty beach and relaxing sound of the waves, as well as Zoe’s warmth beside him, were soothing.
He finished making his last s’more and dug a little deeper into the sand so he could use the log for a pillow, relaxing as he savored his snack.
The careful wall Zoe had maintained when he’d first arrived had been steadily dissolving and they were coming close to their old pattern of friendship. Things were still strained and awkward at times, but he had hope for tomorrow, as well as hope that Zoe would be there with him.