by B. Cranford
“No.” He stood, and moved around his desk to where Ashton still stood, wrapping his arms around her. “For a long time, it did. But, Little, look at us. Look at this life we have.”
She turned her cheek so it rested over his steady heart, and waited for him to continue.
“They were wrong, Ash. They were. Not me. Not you. Definitely not Simon—I’m convinced the man doesn’t know how to be wrong.” A gentle laugh at his joke, then more words of wisdom. “You’re not a disgrace just because you’re having a baby, and I’m not a disgrace because I love a man. That’s on them. And I know you know that, so what’s this really about?”
She paused, unsure whether to admit the rest, but he wasn’t fooled. “Ashton, if you say anything other than ‘your best friend,’ then we are going to have words. You can’t lie to me—and you can’t leave me out of the loop, either.”
“Duncan.” His name was shaky on her lips, perhaps because her resolve was shaky in her heart. She didn’t know; that’s why she needed Aaron.
“I knew it. He told me that he and you . . . that you”—he leaned back from their on-going hug to wiggle his eyebrows at her—“you know.”
“Is it a mistake?”
“Is what a mistake?”
“I don’t know. Having this baby. Trying to start something with him after so long. Everything. Anything. Take your pick.”
Instead of giving her an answer immediately, Aaron guided her to sit on one of the two leather chairs in front of his desk, taking the other once she was settled. Only then, did he answer, “No. Nothing you’re doing is a mistake, and I know you know that.”
She went to defend her doubts, but he held up a hand, and continued, “I know you—I know you would have planned this baby down to the last detail. And as for Dunk, do you remember about, what, eight or nine years ago, you talked to him?”
Ashton’s chin lifted, her eyes rolling upward as if in search of the memory. And when she found it, she let it take her away.
Eight Years Ago
“Where’s Nathan in all this?” Aaron grumbled, his knuckles white against the creamy yellow of her sofa. “You’re moving into his fucking place, and he’s not here to help?”
“Aaron,” Simon cautioned, looking for all the world like carrying a heavy sofa was nothing more taxing that carrying a watermelon.
“What, I know you’re thinking the same thing, you’re just too nice to say it. I, on the other hand, am not too nice.”
Ashton rolled her eyes as she directed them into the spare room of Nathan’s spacious apartment, which would house some of her extra furniture until she decided what to do with it. “I told you, he got called away.”
“Convenient,” he muttered under his breath, making Ashton laugh. “I’m hungry. Are we done yet?”
“No, but how about you take a break, princess, and go grab us something to eat. My treat,” she added, before leaving the room in search of her purse.
Five minutes later, with Aaron and Simon off in search of “something expensive” since Ashton was paying, the ringing of a phone in the other room stole her attention from unpacking her clothes.
She located her phone and swiped the screen, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? A, is that you?” she asked, starting to pull the phone back to see if she recognized the number.
“Kitten?” His voice was warm and hit her like a ton of bricks. “Why are you answering your brother’s phone?”
“Oh–I–Duncan?”
“The one and only. You didn’t answer my question though.”
“He’s out getting lunch, and I guess–I guess I just assumed it was mine. I was unpack–just, you know, away with the fairies. Not like actual fairies, though, because as cool as it would be for Tinker Bell to exist, they aren’t real. But you know that, don’t you? What am I saying, of course you do.”
Oh. My. God.
His laugh was rich, and though it was entirely possible he was laughing at her ridiculous ramble, she couldn’t help but add her giggle to the mix. “I’m so sorry. You have a way of bringing the worst out in me.”
“Not the worst, Kitten. The best.”
That made her giggle end abruptly, replaced by a tingle in the pit of her stomach and a smile that verily stretched from ear-to-ear.
It had been years since she’d seen him, yet he still had a way of making her entire personality change. He still had a way of making her want.
She had no clue what to say, not wanting to spew words on him again, but wanting to cling to this phone call for some reason she couldn’t—didn’t want to—name.
“Wait, hold”—his voice became muffled, the sounds of shifting in her ear telling her that he’d moved to cover the speaker—“Ashton?”
“I’m here.”
“I have to go, which . . . Fuck, it’s terrible timing. I’d have liked to talk to you properly, Kitten.”
He sounded so genuinely remorseful that she couldn’t help her pout. Thank God he couldn’t see her acting so. “Maybe another time,” she offered instead.
“I’d like that. Will you tell Aaron I called?”
She nodded, adding “yes” when she remembered he couldn’t see her.
Which was a shame.
Because, for some strange reason, all she wanted in that moment—when she should have been thinking on her excitement about moving in with her boyfriend—was for Duncan to see her. Really see her.
Present Day
“I remember,” she told Aaron, the feeling of that want so real it could have been eight seconds ago, not eight years, that she’d experienced it.
“He called me later that night. He’d had to go because Kennedy’s appointment had been called, but he wanted to ask me about you.”
“He did?”
“Yeah, Kitten, he did.” He smirked at her, using Duncan’s nickname for her as if there was some point she was missing. “You seem to be thinking that this is all a little much, but from my point of view? This is something that’s been happening for a long, long time. Just . . . take it easy, okay? Forget about Mom and Dad, and about what they think. You can’t change them—only your reaction to them. Which, for the record, should be nil, because they’ve been out of our lives for too long to be a problem now, got it?”
She nodded, because he was right. But she still needed to ask him about Duncan. She needed to know what he thought about—“Dunk? We’ve been–I mean, I’ve been talking to him and texting him, and he’s coming back here.”
“I can’t tell you what’s right or wrong there. All I know is that this isn’t just something that’s popped up from nowhere. You two have been circling this for a long time. Maybe not consciously, but still . . . If it feels right, then it’s worth exploring. Doubts be damned. Do you think I’d have landed Simon if I doubted myself? No way. Have you seen him?!”
Ashton’s laugh doubled as an exhale of relief. Aaron was right—not just about landing Simon, but about Duncan, too.
She’d let it happen. See where it went.
Until he came back, she’d keep talking to him and texting him, and just plain not worry.
Not worry about her mom or Duncan or having a baby alone.
She’d enjoy it. Because that’s what she wanted to do.
Ashton: Can you talk a second?
Duncan: I can. I can also talk for longer periods.
Duncan: In fact, I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been known to talk for upwards of an hour during a presentation.
Ashton: *surprised face emoji*
Duncan: Calm down, calm down. I know you want me right now, but you’re just going to have to be patient.
Ashton: Damn, so disappointing.
Ashton: But seriously, can you talk?
Duncan didn’t reply to the last text, instead bringing up Ashton’s number and hitting call.
“Hello?”
“I can talk. I’m doing it right now. Are you impressed?”
H
er laugh was light and just hearing it—hearing her voice—made his day that much better.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” he said when she didn’t reply.
“Yes, I’m so impressed. You and your big, strong, manly vocal cords.” She let out a breathy, exaggerated sigh, which probably shouldn’t have made his dick twitch, but, well, it did.
Not that she needed to know that.
“So, Kitten, what can I do you for today?”
“Do you remember talking to me one day, like eight years ago?”
Yes, Kitten. I do. I remember wanting to ask you what you were doing with that dickwad Nathan. I remember thinking about you for days afterward. I remember getting hard at night, thinking about the way you giggled in my ear.
I remember telling myself not to call you again, because you had a boyfriend, and I had responsibilities.
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“I don’t know, I just . . . I was talking to Aaron about it, and—”
“And what?”
“You know, that night was my first night in that apartment with Nathan. I was moving in that day, and Aaron and Simon were helping me.”
I know, I hated hearing that. “Aaron told me that.” I wanted to come rescue you, and I didn’t really understand why. I just knew I wanted to.
“That night was the last night I had popcorn and magic shell.”
“I–what?” He shook his head to try to see the connection, but nothing came to him. “What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So, that night, when Nathan got home from work, we had a movie night.” There was a hint of guilt in her tone, like she was admitting something she shouldn’t be.
He didn’t care. He just wanted to know more. “And?”
“I made your salty chocolate snack. Like you taught me.” She laughed, the guilt slipping momentarily, before she continued, “I went out to the store after Aaron and Simon left and bought the microwave popcorn and magic shell specifically. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Ash—”
“Is that bad? That I made your movie night snack with him? Why do I feel bad?”
“Don’t. Kitten, don’t feel bad.” He decided to do some confessing of his own. “I thought about you, too. A lot, after that.” More than you’ll ever know.
“You did?”
“Of course. It was—after you left, to go home to your parents that week—I always thought I’d see you again soon. But it didn’t happen. And I was pissed.”
“I wanted to come back,” she whispered, though to his ears, it sounded like a shout. “But I couldn’t.”
“I know.” And he did know. Her life was in chaos, and the further into the year it got, the less time Duncan himself had to think about it, about her.
About what could have been if time hadn’t been against them.
“He hated it,” she said, not explaining but not needing to.
“I think we can agree he”—Nathan, that dickless wonder—“wasn’t the brightest star in the sky.”
“He cheated on me.”
“I wouldn’t. Did you know that? Do you know that?” I would have to been a fool to even consider it.
“I think I do.” Another whisper that may as well have been broadcast through a megaphone. “No, I do. I do know that.”
Silence descended on the conversation, the two of them just listening to the other breathe, the moment heavy but also . . . somehow light.
“Wanna know something?” he finally asked, not wanting to lose this connection.
“Sure.”
“I haven’t had chocolate popcorn since then. Since you left that week.”
“What? It was your favorite.”
“It reminded me of you.”
“So, what do you snack on during movies now?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, smiling at how easily they shifted back to the breezy banter he so enjoyed.
“I would, actually. I really would.”
“Then add it to the list of things we need to catch up on when I get back there, Kitten.”
“You’re leaving?” The question invited Ashton to face Odie, who was behind the bar pretending to work but really eavesdropping.
“I’ll be back a little later.” She rested a hand on her expanding belly, loving the way the last few weeks had brought a little bump that showed her baby was growing. She was finally out of the first trimester—not that the morning sickness had left entirely, though it was thankfully less aggressive—and feeling much better about, well, everything.
No more dreams of her mother. Since she’d sat down with Aaron that day, and explained her dreams and her doubts, the dreams didn’t plague her.
He’d also talked to her about Duncan—specifically, about what was going on between them—and that had given her some breathing room, too. Her brother was a lawyer, which meant he was crazy smart and had a great eye for detail. Plus, he was—and had always been—straight-up nosy.
It was the only thing about him that was straight.
But it had helped settle her, which in turn, had helped her get through those first-trimester days of hormones and mad dashes to the bathroom.
“Are you going to find out?” Odie’s follow-up question jolted Ashton back to the moment, and she nodded, then shook her head, before shrugging. The indecision caused Odie’s eyes to roll dramatically in her head—a move she’d clearly picked up from Austin, who in turn had picked it up from Aaron. “Well, that clears it up, thanks.”
Ashton shrugged again, yes and no warring on the tip of her tongue. “I can’t decide, Odie. I mean, on one hand, I want to know so I can decide on a name and maybe buy all the little pink or blue things that half the world thinks we shouldn’t be forcing on kids anymore. But on the other hand, who cares? It’ll be a surprise and something to look forward to.”
“Because having a baby isn’t something to look forward to already?”
“Well, of course, but . . .”
“Want my opinion?”
“I get the feeling I’m going to get it anyway, but yes. Actually. I’d like someone to make this decision for me.” Ashton nodded at her own comment. She’d made the hardest decision already—going it alone—and now she just wanted a little nudge in the right direction. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it?
An image of Duncan flittered into her mind, the night he’d so carefully looked after her when she’d been leveled by a wave of pregnancy sickness. A little support from him was still something she thought about and, occasionally, wished for.
And she was getting it, in doses. He’d stayed for another week after that first night—though he’d moved over to Aaron’s place and they hadn’t had sex again. But he’d visited with her each day, eating bar food and just, sort of, being there.
She’d thought something was brewing. She’d thought he’d kiss her again at any time.
He said he’d be back. You’re being a stupid girl, Ashton Marie. And she was, in a way. She did know he’d be back. Even if he hadn’t told her himself—
“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.”
—she’d have known. Just as she’d known when he’d said that, that he’d been referring to their eight days as the last time he’d felt that way.
She knew, because she felt the same way.
It had left them in a weird sort of limbo—both wanting something, but neither knowing what, exactly, that something was. Or should be. Or could be.
It didn’t stop them from texting about this, that and the other. Often.
“Ah, Ashton? Are you in there?” Odie again broke through her inner thoughts, a look of concern on her face. “Jesus, it’s like you disappeared for a second. I half thought you were going to just drop to the floor.”
/> “Sorry, I started thinking about . . .” She trailed off, not wanting to admit she’d been thinking about Duncan again.
“Andrew?”
“Andr–how did you know?”
“I’m not blind, that’s how. When he came in here that first night, he looked at you, you know, that way. In fact, every time he came in here, he looked at you like that. And, besides, Aussie told me.” A smirk formed on Odette’s face, the look of someone who’d just played their trump card.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
“I call him Duncan,” Ashton said, stupidly. She didn’t know why she said it—it just came from her mouth of its own accord, and she looked over to see Odie’s reaction.
“You can call him Captain Underpants for all I care.” It was said with good humor and a wink, before Odie moved back to the topic at hand. “I think you should find out.”
Ashton didn’t respond, just waiting for an explanation, because she knew it was coming. Admittedly, she probably shouldn’t be asking for and taking advice from a woman who was, at least in that moment, in their place of work, her employee—she’d striven to avoid that in the past—but these past few weeks had seen the lines begin to blur.
She could blame it on hormones. On the pregnancy. Or she could just admit it was nice to have someone to talk to who gave her a no-bullshit answer and who wasn’t one or other of her brothers.
“Yeah, definitely find out. It’s still a surprise, but it’s one you get early. Like a reward for all that puking. Plus, I don’t care if you’re not supposed to slap a color and a label on your baby, if that thing”—she pointed to Ashton’s stomach—“is a girl, I’m going to buy the shit out of pink clothing. Those frilly dresses, I don’t know. They’re so adorable and so not me, but I’m a sucker for a cute little baby.”
“You are?” Austin approached from behind Odette, and leaned over her shoulder to place a friendly kiss on her cheek. Except, he looked at her softly, like the idea of her going gaga for a baby was one he liked, before turning to his sister. “You’re having a girl? I thought the appointment was this afternoon.”