Are you awake?
Screw this! I’m not texting her back. We need to talk. I dial her number. She picks up, her voice soft and quiet. I can never figure why the night makes people speak softer. I guess the darkness holds more secrets, more things to whisper about.
“You almost kissed me,” she says.
Oh, I thought we were pretending that didn’t happen. Guess not. “You almost kissed me,” I reply.
“Rhett, if we are going to hang out, be friends, I can’t handle that kind of intensity.”
If she could see my dick right now, she’d realize I can’t turn it off, but I got myself into trouble in Atlanta by trying to move too quickly. I’ve learned my lesson. “I didn’t tell you how beautiful you looked in the dress,” I say.
“Thank you,” she sighs, and I wonder if compliments are too intense. “I can’t sleep.”
“Want to come sleep with me?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but unable to resist the urge to flirt.
“You are impossible,” she says. “Just talk to me, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, trying to think of something light to talk about. “Tomorrow after work, I’ve got basketball practice. So I won’t be able to take Sadie for her walk with you. I’ll have to take her when I get home. I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”
“Why don’t I walk her?” she asks. “I can take her after I close the shop.”
“You sure?”
“I miss her,” she says, a little yawn escaping.
“You still have your key?” I ask, hoping she still does, like that would hold some special meaning.
“Uh huh,” she says.
Lowering my voice, I continue to talk to her about nothing important, nothing intense—silly stories from work, the latest basketball play we’re practicing. I glance at the floor of my bedroom, knowing right below me she’s falling asleep. I hear her breathing slow. She’s fading. I don’t ask her any questions, wanting my voice to be the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
AINSLEY
The elevator door opens. I haven’t been to the floor above me, Rhett’s floor, since he broke up with me. I haven’t stepped through his door, either. While he was gone, I could’ve gone inside—I had the key—but I never did. Why surround yourself with memories of someone you can’t have?
The cold metal of the key hits my skin. I’m dog sitting. That’s it. That’s the kind of thing friends do for each other. Rhett already texted me once today, questioning whether I remembered my half-asleep offer to walk Sadie tonight.
I wonder if his place looks the same. Does he still have the same sofa, the one we made love on more times than I can count? Does he have any pictures of me? He never did before, since we were hiding from Brody, but he had some at the rehab facility. Did he bring those home with him?
Unlocking his door, I step inside, expecting to be bombarded with doggy kisses. Instead, I’m greeted by Diane, standing in her son’s kitchen, the refrigerator door open, grocery sacks spread all over the countertops.
She looks surprised to see me here, but the smile on her face tells me she’s reading more into this than there is.
“I told Rhett I’d walk Sadie for him,” I say, looking around for my furry friend.
“Cliff is doing that,” she says, “while I finish up.”
She’s got dozens of casserole dishes lining his refrigerator and freezer. It looks like enough food to feed him for a month.
Taking a few more steps inside, I glance around his condo. It’s the same, yet it’s different. The furniture is more spread out, less cluttered. The sofa is the same. It still feels like Rhett, and I feel the same being here. It feels like my second home.
Diane watches me as I roam, peeking my head in the workout room, which is brand new. I don’t peek in his bedroom—too many memories in there.
“Why’d Rhett want me to walk Sadie, if you and Cliff were coming over?”
“Oh,” she says, coming closer, but I step back a little. “Rhett doesn’t know we’re here. I knew he had practice and thought it would be okay to drop off a few things. I didn’t expect anyone would be here. I would’ve never let myself in.”
“I keep telling her,” Cliff says, coming in with Sadie. “If you wouldn’t have done it in his old life, you probably shouldn’t now.”
Her eyes scan all the food she’s stockpiled. I sense she knows her husband is right, but she’s a mom. She’s protective, and she worries.
“Rhett will appreciate it,” I say, giving Sadie a little pat. “You’ve got Sadie taken care of. If I’m not needed, I guess I’ll go.”
“I would say Rhett needs you very much,” Diane says.
“Is that why you arranged for dinner the other night?” I ask.
“Seems like it worked,” she says, smiling.
“Diane, I think we’ve always had a good relationship. You know I love you,” I say. “I admire how you’ve handled Rhett’s injury. You can fill his refrigerator, renovate his apartment. I know you’re doing all that out of love for your son . . .”
“That’s sweet of you to . . .”
“But you cannot fix Rhett and me.”
A long silence follows. The awkward kind where no one knows quite what to do or say next. Sadie slinks to the floor.
“Diane,” Cliff says. “Maybe we should go.”
“What are you afraid of, Ainsley?” she asks. “It’s obvious you two still love each other.”
My eyes flip to hers. How dare she?!
“You should listen to your husband,” I say, sharper than I should. “You didn’t interfere in Rhett’s relationships before, so you shouldn’t now.”
She draws a quick breath, like I just struck her with a knife, my words cutting her just as deep. She quickly finishes up in the kitchen. Cliff then places his arm around his wife and escorts her out, his eyes apologetic. The door closes behind them, and I let out a loud grunt, wishing everyone would butt out. Falling back onto the sofa, Sadie jumps up beside me.
“I wanted to kiss him,” I whisper.
I tried to blame it all on him, but it wasn’t all him. I still have feelings for him. I can’t deny that. Apparently, everyone around me sees it, too, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting hurt again. I’m afraid of losing him again. I bury my head in Sadie’s fur, using her as a snuggle partner. She softly snores. I envy that about dogs: they can fall asleep within a few seconds.
“I miss him,” I confess to Sadie.
I think about Cliff’s words, that we should treat Rhett the same way. He’s not the first one to say that. If Rhett were never hurt, would I give him another chance if he broke my heart?
I know I wouldn’t. So why am I even considering it now? It’s not out of pity. It’s out of love. I hate the way he treated me, but I do understand why he pushed me away. Understanding doesn’t take away the pain, but it does make me wonder if there’s a way back.
I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t imagine letting him go, but I also can’t imagine trusting him with my love again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
You made me who I am.
A. Rose
RHETT
My girls curled up on the sofa. That’s the sight that greeted me when I got in from basketball practice last night. It was a little after eleven when I got home. Instead of jumping in the shower, I watched Ainsley sleep. Instead of going to sleep myself, I placed a blanket over her. Instead of wondering how I was going to win her back, I thanked God she was here.
I know it had to be an accident on her part. She’d never fall asleep at my place on purpose, at least not these days. How did this happen? What kind of divine intervention is this? Whatever it is, I’ll take it. She’s obviously still comfortable enough here to let her guard down a little bit.
The morning light coming through my windows, I want to kiss her good morning to wake her, but I won’t, settling for making her breakfast. Sadie jumps off the sofa, the smell of bacon enough to jolt her
from the deepest slumber. She used to be such a good watch dog, barking at the slightest thing. Now I can come in the house, and she barely lifts her head. Most mornings, I have to force her out of bed for her morning walk.
Sadie shakes, the jiggle of her collar ringing. It’s like Ainsley’s personal alarm clock, causing her to start to wake. This is hardly the morning after, but I know Ainsley’s going to flip out like she’s waking up after a one-night stand. I come armed with bacon, toast, and orange juice.
I see her stretch, her eyes still closed, a little yawn. She snuggles down deeper into the cushions, like she’s hoping for an extra few minutes. Then her eyes flash open, realizing where she is.
“Morning,” I say, grinning at her.
She immediately lifts the blanket, checking to see if she’s dressed, like she could forget us sleeping together.
“Um.”
“Found you on my sofa when I got home,” I say, rolling over and handing her some juice.
She takes the juice, her skin turning a bright pink. “I had a fight with your mom. Well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly.”
I look toward the kitchen. I knew my mom had been here, but I didn’t know when. I texted her to thank her once I got home, and she never mentioned in her reply that she saw or talked to Ainsley. “What about?”
“You,” she says, putting her juice down.
Ainsley doesn’t need to say another word. I already know how that conversation went. My mother needs to stop interfering. From the look on Ainsley’s face, it’s not helping. “I’ll talk to her,” I say.
“Why does everyone think they get a say in what happens between me and you?” she asks.
“I think everyone just wants to finally see us both happy again.”
She looks up at me from under her lashes. “I was happy the other night after we left the restaurant, and we just talked and had ice cream like we used to.”
Brushing her hair off her face, I ask, “That’s what you need?”
She nods, and it looks almost sad. She doesn’t want to hurt me. She doesn’t want to get hurt again, either. That’s what I have to prove to her—I’ll never hurt her again.
“Okay,” I say softly.
Closing her eyes, she leans forward, her forehead resting on mine. I let my eyes close, soaking her in, the feel of her hair brushing my cheek, her sweet smell. Is this some sort of test? She just told me what she needs, and it doesn’t involve us kissing. But that’s all I want. Just one kiss.
One kiss to show her how I feel. One kiss to erase all the pain and hurt. One kiss so she can remember all the ones that came before.
She pulls away slightly, her eyes opening. Reaching out, she places her hand on my cheek. “Walk Sadie and ice cream,” she says. “Tonight?”
“Every night,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze.
I’ll give her as much time as she needs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AINSLEY
Over the past few weeks, my shop has become Sadie’s second home. She now has a dog bed in the corner, a water bowl in the back, and a treat container on my counter so all my customers give her a little nibble. On the nights that Rhett goes to basketball practice, Sadie stays with me. It’s like we’re divorced and have shared custody of our child. Only Sadie’s a dog, and we aren’t divorced. In fact, I see him every day. Sometimes it’s to walk Sadie. Other times, it’s when he’s dropping her off here to me. Sometimes, like tonight, she stays the night with me, and I take her to the vet clinic in the mornings. Totally like those divorced couples you see exchanging their kids in a fast food parking lot.
This is probably the most he’s ever been apart from Sadie, except when he was in the hospital. Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t letting me watch her as a way of keeping a little piece of him with me.
“Hello,” Skye’s voice chimes out as she enters my shop, carrying a huge white garment bag.
I made her wedding dress, so I know it doesn’t weigh more than five or six pounds, but she still looks like she’s being buried alive.
Rushing over to help her, I feel butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’m so excited that she and Brody are having a redo of their wedding reception. I can’t wait to see her all made up in her dress, veil, shoes, makeup, hair—the whole bit. It’s been a long time coming. Today we’re doing a fitting just to make sure that everything still looks perfect before the celebration next week.
“What’s Sadie doing here?” she asks, hanging the dress up in the fitting room.
Sadie barely even acknowledges we have a visitor, simply rolling over a little, looking for a belly rub, which Skye happily provides.
“I’ve been watching her for Rhett some,” I say.
She raises an eyebrow. “First, it’s dog sitting. Then before you know it, you’re sitting on his face.”
“Oh my God, Skye!”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Playfully, shoving her shoulder, I say, “Go get your dress on.”
She flashes me a look over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door. I look over at Sadie. She’s the only one that keeps her opinion about Rhett and me to herself. Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture of her all curled up on her bed, sending it to Rhett.
Not missing you at all!
Figuring he’s on the basketball court, I put my phone down, not expecting a response, but it immediately dings.
How about you? You miss me?
Okay, so we totally flirt with each other all the time. Usually, it’s sweet, fun, and not very serious. I told him I need space and time, and he’s respected that. You always hear people say they need space and time, and now I’m one of them. The thing is, I’m not sure why I need space or time. It’s like I’m waiting for something to magically happen, something to make me less afraid.
I think the flirting is his way of letting me know that he hasn’t given up. I don’t have as good an excuse for my role in the flirting process. Quickly, I reply.
Parts of you.
I hit send before realizing he could read that the wrong way, thinking I’m referring to his injury in some way. I’m frantically typing my lame explanation for what I meant, when his response comes through.
You can have any part of me whenever you want.
Relieved, I start to respond when Skye opens the door a little, putting an end to our playful banter.
“Ainsley,” Skye says, holding her dress up in front. “I don’t think it fits. I don’t understand. I’m only two pounds heavier than I was then.”
I hear her voice crack and realize she’s on the verge of tears. Skye’s always had this hang-up about her size, and her weight fluctuates with whatever crazy diet she’s on. Taking hold of the back of the dress, I begin to lace up the corset. I do this for a living. The corset design is pretty forgiving. You can tighten and loosen as needed, but she does have to be able to breathe. I can tell the dress isn’t fitting like it did originally. By the time I get her all laced up, she’s worked herself into a tizzy.
I reach for a box of tissues, preferring when a bride is moved to tears for happy reasons. “I can always let it out. There’s time.”
“Look at my boobs,” she says. “It’s obscene.” There is definitely a cleavage situation happening, but it won’t do me any good to make a big deal out of it. She pulls at the dress. “I can barely breathe.”
“Let me loosen it,” I say, reaching for the back of the dress. I start to unlace it when an idea hits me like a bolt of lightning. I stop in my tracks, frozen.
“Ainsley?” Skye says, turning her head to look at me. “If you have to cut me out of this dress, I swear I’m going to lose my mind.”
I hold her eyes. “Maybe the dress not fitting has nothing to do with your weight.”
“Then what . . .” She turns all the way around, her eyes wide. She knows what I’m hinting at. “The test I took was negative.”
“Yeah, but that was weeks ago.”
She starts to chew on her nail
. “My period was late last month, and it was lighter than normal. Maybe?”
“You work in a fertility clinic, for God’s sake,” I say, laughing. “How could you miss this?”
“I don’t know. I know women can confuse spotting during pregnancy for their periods, I just thought I’d know the difference.”
She looks at herself in the mirror. “The ribcage expands first. My boobs definitely look like I need to be milked. Oh God!”
“Do you have another stolen pregnancy test in your purse?” I ask.
“Skye’s going to be a mom,” I whisper to Sadie, curled up beside me in my bed at home.
Skye swore me to secrecy, but I figure Sadie’s not going to tell anyone, and I needed to say it out loud to make it real. I don’t know how I’m going to keep from telling Brody and Rhett, but Skye decided she wants to make the announcement at their do-over reception. She wants the photographer to catch my brother’s reaction. I can’t wait to see that myself.
I’m so excited for them. I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep tonight. I can’t imagine what Skye’s feeling right now. How she’s going to keep this to herself until next week, I’ll never know. As for me, I may need to talk to Sadie about it daily.
My phone rings, and I know who it is without looking.
“I’m on my way home,” Rhett says. “Want me to come get Sadie?”
“That’s okay. I’ll keep her tonight. We are curled up together in my bed. She’s a good snuggler.”
“I’d like to take her place,” he says.
Flirting is a lot easier and safer via text. Once we move into phone flirting, my skills vanish. God forbid he flirt with me in person, I basically go to mush.
“Sadie’s irreplaceable,” I say then whisper, “But so are you.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come over?” he asks, his voice low and hungry.
“Not tonight,” I say, unsure why I’m saying no. “I’ll bring Sadie to the vet clinic in the morning before I go to work.”
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