About Time (The Avenue Book 1)

by B. Cranford

  “Ashton was with the so-tiny-it’s-non-existent dickless wonder for a decade. If that’s not serious, what is?” It was a fair question, in Duncan’s estimation, since every time he’d asked about Ashton in the past, the answer had invariably included the asshole.

  “Not that. Who could get serious with him?”

  “Um, Ashton?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have let that happen. She deserves better.”

  Duncan nodded at that, in complete agreement. “Yeah,” he said softly, “she does.”

  “You’re better.”

  “To be fair, the bald cook missing three teeth and who farted so loudly we could hear it from the kitchen back at that diner we used to go to would be better.”

  Aaron considered that for a moment. The diner Duncan had mentioned was one they’d frequented as hungover college kids in need of much grease and bitter, burn-you-from-the-inside coffee. Ned, the cook, was a former amateur hockey player who’d never bothered to replace his missing teeth and seemed to always have gas.

  A lot of it.

  Sometimes, Duncan marveled, it was a wonder they didn’t get food poisoning from that place. But the food was cheap and good and Ned was an alright guy. Funny and otherwise hygienic.

  At least, as far as he could tell.

  “Okay, yeah, Ned would also be better, but you’d be better again,” Aaron conceded, before continuing, “All I’m saying is, you’re good for her. Aside from my husband, I love my sister more than anyone—even Austin, but probably don’t tell him that, because I might be the gay one, but he’s definitely the drama queen. I just want her to be happy.”

  “She’s pregnant, you know.”

  “And your point is?”

  “Even if, if, I moved here and we started something, that’s a—it’s a lot to take on.”

  “Seriously. Idiot.”

  “It’s not my kid.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. It’s hers and if she was looking for a baby daddy, don’t you think she’d have gone about the whole pregnancy a different way?” He paused, as if remembering something. “Wait, did she tell you about the whole sperm donor thing or am I in a pile of shit for revealing secrets?”

  For the briefest moment, Duncan thought about milking this moment and making his friend sweat, except . . . Aaron was helping him sort out his jumbled thoughts about Ashton and about this thing between them. “She told me.”

  “Okay, good. Dodged a bullet. Anyway, she doesn’t need you. She has me and Simon and Aussie, and most importantly, herself. She’s going to be as good at this as she is at everything she does, because that’s who she is. She doesn’t settle for less than the best.” Aaron stopped talking to chuckle, adding, “Well, except for the dickless one, but we all get one free pass, right?”

  “Right,” Duncan agreed, hoping that Aaron would make his point soon. He needed the help finding perspective.

  “So, if you like her and you want her, you have my permission—like I said to her, you don’t need it but you have it—and just worry about that for now. I know it seems like a lot, in the wake of losing Ken, but it’s not. It’s dating. It’s not marriage. Trust me, after fifteen years of dating and a few weeks of marriage, I can tell you, there’s a difference.”

  “There is?” Huh, I never would have thought it could be that much different.

  “Yeah, man. The sex is better.”

  They laughed together, the moment passing when the waiter came to take their order, and then they moved on to other topics. And at the end of the afternoon, Duncan felt like he had a better grasp on what he was going to do about Ashton.

  And he certainly had an amazing grasp on what he wanted to do to Ashton . . .

  Duncan knocked tentatively on the door to Ashton’s apartment. Sure, he’d been in there the night before—not to mention, in Ashton, but he still wasn’t 100% certain of his welcome.

  He assumed it would be good. He could be wrong.

  The door swung open and his Kitten greeted him with a smile. I wasn’t wrong, he thought fleetingly, before following her after she gestured him inside.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  “I checked downstairs, Austin said you were up here still.” He’d spent the afternoon wandering around Madison, enjoying how busy it wasn’t in comparison to New York. There were people about—lots of them, in fact—but it wasn’t as hurried or as harried. It was . . . nice.

  He’d enjoyed it. Which was a good thing, considering what he was, well, considering.

  “Aussie said he had it under control and I’m exhausted.” She smirked back at him when he raised an eyebrow, clearly understanding his implication that he’d been the reason she was so tired, but not letting him get away with it. “Because I’m growing a little person inside me.”

  “Not because I was inside you, got it.”

  “You’re hilarious, you know that?” she sassed, rolling her eyes at him and giving him a little swat on the shoulder. A swat that he turned into hand-holding with one smooth move.

  Or, at least, he thought it was pretty smooth. As she went to pull her hand back, he gripped her wrist gently and slid his hand up and around until they were palm to palm, then lowered their joined hands to his side. She looked down at them, and then back up at him before interlocking their fingers. For a moment, they just stood in the middle of her living area—in the same place that she’d jumped him less than twenty-four hours earlier—not saying anything.

  It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just like they were both taking a much-needed minute.

  “Are you, ah, staying?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, tonight. Is that why you came back?”

  “No. Yes.” He sighed, realizing that if he wanted to get what he’d come here for, he needed to just say it. “I want to stay here, but I told Aaron I’d hang out with him this week.”

  “Oh, that’s totally, you know. He’s the reason you came here, I’m sure, I just thought that maybe you’d want to–ah, never mind. Anyway, I’m so happy to see you again because I think maybe I should apolo—”

  “Ashton, take a deep breath and maybe let me do the talking? Please?” He waited a beat for her nod, then continued, “Sorry, I just have something I want to talk to you about and I’m trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like a loon.”

  “Might I suggest avoiding no-breath sentences and extraneous information? I hear that makes it more likely you’ll come across as sane,” she joked, immediately bringing the mood back to the easiness of their earlier silence.

  “Good advice.” He smiled, exerting just a little pressure on her hand, guiding her to sit next to him on her sofa. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, let’s start with that. I—I mean, last night was amazing. Surprising, but amazing.”

  She made a noise between a snort and a snicker, which he couldn’t help but agree with. He didn’t know exactly what the sound was but the sentiment it painted? Spot on.

  “I’m going to stay with Aaron because it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other and missing his wedding was”—he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, in thought—“it was hard for a lot of reasons. I’m only here for another few days, but I’d like to see you again while I’m here, if that’s okay?”

  “I’d like that, too.”

  “This feels weird, right?” He laughed, shaking his shoulders, forgetting momentarily that their hands were still joined, and that shaking himself meant shaking her too. “Oh, sorry.”

  “’S’okay. It reminds me of when we were kids and I used to grab both of Aussie’s hands and just wobble them around. He’d laugh like mad. I think he was maybe four?”

  “Ken used to love piggy-back rides when she was little. I acted like I hated it—and I did actually kind of hate it—but . . .” He trailed off, leaving the fact that he missed it now unsaid.

  She got it, though. He could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, the way they reflected a sad smile back at him.

  “I miss her. A
lot. And part of the reason I came here was to see if, maybe, there was something here for me. Like, I don’t know, it was time for a change?” Letting go of her hand, finally, he swiped his own down his face, shaking his head. “Fuck, it’s getting heavy and that wasn’t my intention.”

  “What was your intention then?” she asked, her face clear of judgment, her voice full of curiosity.

  “To tell you I’m only here for a few more days, like I said, but that I’m planning on coming back. I need time to wrap everything up and make sure . . . make sure it’s the right choice, but this is where I want to be. I’ve felt different these past few days. Since I made the decision to come here—and now actually being here—I feel better than I have in years.”

  “So you’re coming back to stay? Like, moving here?” she asked, with what he thought—he hoped—was excitement in her eyes.

  He nodded and, as a smile formed on her lips, he felt his answering smile spread across his own face. “Maybe if you still want to, we can see each other again when I’m back?”

  “And while you’re gone?”

  “Sexting?” he joked, though a part of him—a large part, that was currently twitching in his pants at just the idea of dirty texting with Ashton—thought it wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the time.

  “Maybe let’s just start with ‘how are you today?’ and ‘what’s happening?’ texts and see what happens,” she replied, a laugh on her lips telling him she wasn’t offended by his suggestion.

  “Fine. But if the need to sext arises . . .”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Ashton: Where are you?

  Dunk: *King of My Heart Listen Link*

  Ashton: Did you . . .

  Ashton: Did you just send a Taylor Swift song link to me?

  Ashton: And are you really on the roof?

  Dunk: Fun fact—it turns out my new neighbor LOVES Taylor Swift.

  Dunk: And I can hear you asking, but Duncan, how do you know?

  Dunk: BECAUSE SHE PLAYS HER ALBUM AT MAX VOLUME ALL NIGHT AND DAY.

  Ashton: So, you’re saying she’s getting a . . .

  Dunk: Reputation.

  Ashton: Reputation.

  Ashton: Damn you, you ruined my punchline!

  Dunk: It was a pretty weak joke, Ash.

  Ashton: It was brilliant.

  Dunk: Clearly, since we both thought of it.

  Ashton: Whatever. So, seriously, what are you doing? Aside from enjoying beer on your rooftop, I mean.

  Dunk: Honestly? Sitting on my couch in my underwear, eating ice cream.

  Ashton: I don’t think that’s honesty.

  Dunk: Why not?

  Ashton: Because that’s not a very manly thing to be doing.

  Dunk: Okay, one, don’t stereotype me. And two, it’s all this Tay-Tay. It’s messing with my emotions.

  Ashton: Oh, I know allllllll about messy emotions.

  Ashton: I burned my toast this morning. Cried. Dropped a jar of olives while doing inventory. Cried. Then puked because gross, olives. Saw a little puppy waiting outside for its owner to pick up a to go order. CRIED.

  Dunk: You’re mental.

  Ashton: I’m pregnant.

  Dunk: WHAT?! No!

  Ashton: And they say sarcasm doesn’t translate well in text.

  Dunk: I turned in my resignation letter today.

  Ashton: You did?

  Ashton: How do you feel?

  Dunk: TBD

  Ashton: Oh. I was hoping for “never been better” or similar.

  Dunk: It’s a good feeling, Kitten. It’s also just a little weird.

  Ashton: I get that. I’m sorry. If I was there, I’d give you a hug.

  Dunk: I know that’s a joke, but actually, I think it would be helpful.

  Ashton: It’s not a joke.

  Dunk: Raincheck?

  Ashton: Raincheck.

  Ashton: My appointment for the ultrasound is next week. The baby is about the size of an apple. And I only threw up once today.

  Dunk: It’s a Christmas miracle!

  Dunk: Side note: I love apples.

  Ashton: It’s not Christmas, but it’s definitely a miracle.

  Ashton: So, that’s all I had to say.

  Dunk: As always, your updates on the status of your regurgitation habits is appreciated.

  Ashton: As always, your sarcasm is noted.

  Ashton: Final week, huh?

  Dunk: Yeah. It’s been odd.

  Ashton: In what way?

  Dunk: My boss came into my office, sat down and offered to double my salary.

  Ashton: Whoa.

  Dunk: Like I said, odd.

  Ashton: That’s not odd. That’s amazing. It means they want you. That you’re good.

  Dunk: I want YOU to want me, to think I’m amazing . . .

  Dunk: Yeah, I guess so.

  Ashton: So, what did you say?

  Ashton: If you said yes and you aren’t coming back here, I might cry harder than when I saw that puppy.

  Ashton: Because that can’t have been easy to turn down?

  Dunk: Actually, it was.

  Dunk: And that’s how I knew I was making the right decision.

  Duncan stared at the bubble on the screen—those three little dots that said Ashton was typing out a reply. It had been nearly a month since he’d come back to the city and made the decision to leave it behind.

  The time had been both easier than it should have been and harder than he could have imagined. Kennedy’s final days, weeks, months, years were everywhere—in his apartment and all over the city, in various places they’d gone to for doctor’s appointments, blood tests, specialist meetings.

  He hated it. He hated the reminder of what she’d been through and he hated that he was leaving those memories behind, because memories were all that he had left of her now.

  The beeping of his phone brought relief from his spiraling thoughts; Ashton’s ability to do that, to throw him a lifeline was one of the reasons he was so eager to get back to Madison and start over. It wouldn’t be easy—he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got there, if he was going to be able to find a job or a place to live or . . . anything, really—but he had the sense that it would be worth it.

  Ashton: You are.

  Two simple words, telling him that yes, she agreed with this somewhat-rash, probably insane plan to leave the city behind.

  Ashton: If only to get away from your neighbor.

  Ashton: Do you know all the words to all the songs now?

  Ashton: Or just your favorites?

  Dunk: It’s both. Because they’re all my favorites.

  Dunk: I’m not lying. Those songs are growing on me.

  Ashton: OMG. You love Taylor Swift.

  Ashton: You have favorite songs and know all the words and you’re going to buy concert tickets aren’t you?

  Ashton: Do you have a T-Swift T-shirt?

  Ashton: Please say yes.

  Dunk: I realize now that I should have kept that to myself.

  His phone beep, beep, beeped at him again, three times in quick succession. He glanced down at the screen to see a series of Taylor Swift GIFs. The laugh that rose was light and happy, and he was grateful for it.

  Ashton had thrown him a lifeline.

  He was going to grip it with both hands and see if it was enough to keep him afloat.

  “Do you have a second?” Ashton knocked on the door of Aaron’s office as she asked the question, knowing that the answer would be yes.

  With Aaron, the answer was always yes. That’s just the kind of brother—the kind of man—he was.

  “Sure thing, Little. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He laid his pen down atop a stack of papers on his desk and pushed back in his seat, his smile wide and welcoming.

  God, she loved her brothers—she knew how lucky she was to have them both, and that was why she was here.

  She needed sage advice and brotherly love. Which is what she told Aaron with her next breath. �
��I need advice—the kind Simon normally gives but since he’s out of town, I thought maybe you could help me instead.”

  That earned her a laugh, the long-standing joke that Simon was the parental figure in their family being one that all three of the Andrews siblings enjoyed making.

  “I’ll do my best, though I can’t guarantee that it’ll be as good as my husband’s.”

  “You like saying that, don’t you?”

  “My husband? Fuck yes, I do. Have you seen my husband? You’d want to claim him on the daily, too, if he were yours.”

  She would, she didn’t bother to deny it. With his brilliant smile and his handsome good looks, Simon was a striking man. But it was the heart within that made him completely unforgettable.

  And, sometimes, that’s what hurt most of all, when it came to their parents. That they would never know Simon, for stupid, closed-minded reasons.

  When Ashton thought about what she would want for her baby when it was grown and looking for love, she thought of Simon. Of a person—man or woman, gay, straight or bi—to love them, care for them like Simon did for Aaron.

  That was what she wanted for her baby. And that was part of the reason she was there, to talk to Aaron.

  Because—“I’ve been dreaming about Mom.” She said it with no more lead-in, no more second-guessing. And maybe that wasn’t the right way to do it, but she didn’t care.

  She needed her big brother.

  “Okay. And?” Aaron’s face didn’t change. Like the lawyer he was, he collected the facts first, and then made his argument, no matter what the topic.

  “I don’t know. She’s there and calling me a disgrace. And it hurts. Doesn’t it hurt still?” Tears formed in her eyes, but she made the effort to blink them back. For as hard as it had been for Ashton, what had happened with their parents was ten times worse for Aaron. She would take that pain from him and make it hers if she could.