by Shyla Colt
“Ash.” My brother hugs me, and I release the pain I’ve tried to keep hidden. “It wasn’t your fault. Holly was chasing her dream. You supported her like you always did. She knew she was on borrowed time. You helped her make every second of it count. I’m sorry you lost her and the baby. It was a tragedy. No one is to blame, and there are no explanations. Bad things happen to good people, and we have to hold on to those good memories and move forward to live for them. Because deep down we know it’s what they would want. Not just your Holly. Our parents, too. We’ve lost more than most, but we also gained. They made us better people, and that’s something we get to carry with us out into the world.”
I sniff and nod my head. “I know you’re right. I’ve had this conversation many times with a therapist. Some guilt lingers. It’s a struggle to fight against those illogical thoughts at times.” I run a hand over my face. “I didn’t mean to break down like that.”
“I think you needed it. We always stand together. That’s what family is for.” He pats my shoulder. “Maybe this thing with Clara won’t get off the ground. But I think you owe it to both of you to find out.”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I tell him, “The thought of opening myself up to another person terrifies me, Micah. I don’t know if I can do it again. It makes you vulnerable.”
“That’s the con. What about the pros?”
“I may never be ready to get back out there, Micah. I’ve made my peace with that, and I think you should, too.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to get cleaned up a bit before I leave to meet Clara. She’s a punctual little thing.”
Micah smiles at me. I ignore the sadness in his gaze. It’s better this way.
Inside of the bathroom, I splash water on my face and take a deep breath. The seed planted in my mind threatens to grow. Pros. Entering into a relationship with Clara would bring a fullness to my life I’ve nearly forgotten. I miss doting on a special woman and receiving that same adoration in return. Gripping the edge of the tiled sink, I stare at my reflection.
“Snap out of it.” Pushing away, I stand up straight, dry my hands, and exit the bathroom, tucking my hopeful thoughts away where they can’t influence me.
I walk up the stairs from the parking lot, admiring the revamp that’s been done on the town. The facelift to the urban areas has changed Cincinnati for the better, infusing new life, attracting young upstarts, and adding a lot more to do in the once insanely conservative and slow-paced city. I reach the top and admire the iconic theater. One-hundred-and-seven years old, the tiny theater first opened in nineteen eleven. After surviving the great depression, it nearly closed due to the popularity of bigger chains and television shows. Saved by the city of Clifton, it’s an underdog story with a happy ending as it holds the title of one of the leading independent theaters. The dark blue building has an Art Deco feeling with its beige diamond tiles on the surface, and red, white, and blue triangular pattern along the bottom of the building near the sidewalk.
The old-fashioned marque juts out from the building in a triangular shape that stands out from the ornate Art Deco piece on the building. I look both ways before crossing the road and slip inside. Clara waves. In her casual ripped jeans that show small patches of flesh, a black tank top, and a pink cardigan, her natural beauty steals my breath. Her hair surrounds her face in a curly halo of fluffy black curls. Her wide smile makes my gut clench. Despite the sorrow I revisited earlier, I can’t help but respond.
She meets me in the middle of the tiny swirly-carpeted area. “Are you ready to be freaked out?”
“The Birds is not that scary.”
“Unless you have a bird phobia.”
“You?” I ask.
She nods her head. “Oh yeah. Their beady little eyes and shrill cries freak me the hell out.”
“Then you must be a masochist coming to this movie.”
“As long as the feathered rats stay on the screen, I’ll be fine.”
I chuckle.
“Everything okay?” She leans closer and a I catch a whiff of a soft, sweet scent. “You don’t seem like your usual self.”
“I just got here.” I deflect her concern, stunned by how easily she read me. Most people can’t.
“Still.” She points. “I know you, Asher Davenport. You don’t have to share if you’re not up to it. Just know I’m here.”
“Right now, all I want to do is enjoy my time with you.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. First stop, flavor town.” She steers me toward the concession stand, and I laugh. “Get what you want, my treat.” She winks.
“Big spender.”
“Only because you’re so pretty.” She pats my cheek.
I huff and place my hand on my chest. “I feel objectified, ma’am.”
She smirks. “Think highly of yourself, do you?”
“Am I pretty? Do people like me, yeah?” I sing a line from The Maine, and she laughs.
“I told you that you’d like them.”
“I can’t believe how long it’s been since I went to a concert.”
“You haven’t been living your life. What would you do without me, huh?” She nudges me with her elbow.
The thought of life without her leaves me cold. I’ve grown used to our daily texts, weekly outings, and her unique perspective on things. Walking away unscathed is already no longer an option. I study her as she steps up to the small counter. I inhale the scent of buttery popcorn and my stomach rumbles.
She smirks at me. “Can I get a large tube of popcorn with extra butter, a pack of Twizzlers, a large Coke, and whatever else he’d like.”
“Can I get a large Doctor Pepper, and Sour Patch Kids, please?”
“Nice choice.”
“I’m glad you approve since I know you’ll eat all of yours and some of mine.”
“Friends share, Ash.” She flashes me a dimpled grin, and I’m putty. I carry the food back, and we find our seat in the middle of the theater to maximize the best sound. We’ve developed a system. Was Micah right?
I struggle to pay attention to the movie as I study Clara out of the corner of my eye. What is it about this woman that grabs my attention in a way no other has? She jumps and grabs my arm. Laughing, I loop the arm around her and bring her to my side. She fits as if she were made for me. Her hand brushes against mine in the popcorn tub. Tingles work their way through my body.
“What?” She peers up at me.
I shake my head. “Making sure you were okay.”
“I’m not that bad.” She ducks her head bashfully.
I force my gaze back to the screen. Thinking too hard has a headache creeping up on the edge of my skull. I won’t be figuring it out tonight. Damn you, Micah.
Chapter Four
Clara
“Have a seat, stranger,” Austen teases.
“Stop. You see me plenty.” I plop down in the seat across from her and pour myself a glass of iced tea. It’s mid-June and the summer season is in full swing. We watch as Darcy swings on the wooden playset a few yards away from the porch.
“Sure, at work. Not so much outside of it. I see Mr. Candyman has been keeping you busy.” She leans closer. “I want details.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” I take a long draw of the sweet tea and hum my approval. I lift the glass. “I swear, if you sold this, you’d be rich.”
“Thank you. Don’t try to worm your way out of the hot seat.”
I laugh. “I’m not. We enjoy the same things, so we go out together. Mostly it’s movies and some of the more obscure places we’ve always meant to go to in town. It’s been fun,” I admit with a shrug.
Austen’s dark brown eyes become slits as she studies me like a slide under a microscope. “Are you telling me nothing has ever happened between the two of you?”
“Yes, I am.”
Refusing to give up she changes her tactics. “Okay. What about almost?”
I remember the day in the vet’s office when his lips nearly touched mine. I can still
feel his heated breath on me. Licking my lips, I avert my eyes.
“Oh, you are so busted,” Austen crows.
“So, we almost kissed once. We were riding high on emotions after finding Rook. It’s nothing to read into.” I wave my hand dismissively, wishing I could believe my own words.
“You light up when you talk about him, Clar-bear. There’s serious potential for more here. I wouldn’t be pushing you otherwise. I know the attraction is there. Why are you in a holding pattern? It’s not because of Ian, is it?”
The thought of my ex makes me sneer. Mr. Control Freak had pulled a Jekyll and Hyde act that left me reeling for a long time. “Because it takes two to tango. He backed off after the vet’s office, and we’ve never gotten anywhere near that close again.” I shake my head remembering the way he shut me out. “It was clearly a line he didn’t want to cross. I recognize that Ian and Asher are two completely different people. It’s why I took my time getting to know him. ”
“So you plan on indefinitely ignoring the pull you feel toward him?” she asks skeptically.
“Other than some light flirting? Yes. We both seem to be happy that way.”
“This is me you’re talking to, babe. Be honest. Are you content to leave it as is?”
I bite the inside of my lip. I’ve been lying to myself for months. It’s time to ’fess up. “No,” I sigh.
Beaming, she claps her hands. “I knew it.”
“He’s been hurt in the past. I can see it in his eyes. I’ve tried to broach the topic. He dodges deep conversation about meaningful relationships. I backed off to keep our friendship intact. He’s amazing. Funny, intelligent, sexy, and polite. Not in the cold, impersonal way, in a mannerly way I thought I would only read about in books. His mother was from a very upper-crust family in England, who boasted a bit of royal blood. I think it rubbed off on them in a big way.”
“You’re practically swooning,” Austen whispers.
“It’s so easy with Ash. I don’t have to try or pretend. He gets me. It’s so rare to find a person I can say that about. If I thought he wanted more, I’d be open to trying.” The words are hard to speak. For so long, I was determined to remain single and focus on myself.
Austen frowns. “I sense a but coming.”
“I won’t jeopardize what we’re building. I’d rather have him in my life as a friend than not at all.”
“I think you’re selling one another short. It’s clear to anyone with eyes there’s a spark there. Eventually, a line will be crossed. Wouldn’t you prefer that it happen on your own terms?” Austen tilts her head.
I open my mouth and close it, unsure about how to answer.
“Anything this special is worth taking a chance on, Clar-bear.”
“Ash is different from anyone I’ve ever known. I want to peel back all the layers and see who’s at the center. If I spook him, I may never get to the core of his being.” My face heats with embarrassment. “I know it seems like I’m afraid to get back out there, but that’s not the case. I’m not gun-shy. I’m following my gut.” I shrug. “It’s worked so far.”
“Has it?” She arches a brow.
I sigh, blowing the loose curls out of my eye. “Since you don’t agree, tell me, oh wise one, what do you think I should do?”
“Why, I thought you’d never ask.” She sits up straighter in her chair. “I’m not suggesting anything drastic. Just consider dropping a few subtle hints.”
“Aunt Clara! Come play with me,” Darcy calls.
Saved by the goddaughter.
“Duty calls.” I stand quickly. “I’ll think about it.”
Austen grins. “I said think not do. So, no more of your lip.”
She zips her lips, and I roll my eyes as I head toward the pint-sized pixie with large hazel eyes and a halo of blondish brown curls. At four, she’s shedding the baby fat, and growing up too fast on me.
“I’m here, Lady Darcy. What would you have of me?”
Her sweet giggles are music to my ears.
“Let’s play tag. You’re it.” She hops down from the swing, taps my legs, and takes off. I give chase, losing myself in the game.
After a day of chasing around an active toddler, my fluffy bunny slippers and matching robe are welcome after a hot shower. I veg in front of the television binge-watching Nailed It on Netflix. The knock on the door makes me smile. Ash is headed out of town, and he’s dropping off Rook. I shuffle across the carpeted floor and open the door. Dark circles stand out under his eyes, and his eyes are clouded with pain.
“Asher?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. Sorry, I’m later than I expected. The day got away from me.”
I’ve never seen him so out of sorts. “Come on in.”
He clutches the cat carrier like a lifeline. The alarm raises as he walks him over to his cat perch and opens the door.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I duck down to meet his downcast gaze.“Are you okay?”
He opens his mouth, closes it, and shakes his head. His shoulders slump as he visually deflates. “Today’s been a rough one.”
“Why? What happened?” I shut the door and lock it. “Come and have a seat with me on the couch. Relax and breathe.” I usher him to my sofa.
He plops down. “There’s a part of my life I never talk about. It’s painful, and while I’ve done my best to come to grips with it, I think in this case it’s the best any person can do. There are certain events one can never truly move forward from.” His voice wavers. This is it. “Six years ago, I lost my wife and our baby.”
“Oh, my God.” His words split my heart in two. “I am so sorry.” I grab his hand.
“It’s been a long road. Holly and I were high school sweethearts. I knew she had cardiomyopathy. A genetic condition that causes weakness and degeneration in the heart muscle. It’s unpredictable. Some people can live a long, full life, with few symptoms. Others may never know they have it until they suffer sudden heart failure, or they may be greatly affected and have to limit their activities. Holly fell somewhere in between the first and the latter. I knew going into our relationship her symptoms could worsen at any time, and we had to be selective about what we did. It sounds like a lot. I know you’re probably imagining a frail, pasty-faced teen who was always watching others do what she couldn’t. It wasn’t the case with her. She had a personality that filled a room. We were paired up as lab partners in Science, and that was all she wrote. Most guys I knew couldn’t wait to leave high school behind and start over in college. I never saw it that way.” He smiles sadly. “When my parents died, Holly and her family were there for me every step of the way. She stood by me while we took over the company and I worked my fingers to the bone proving myself. It could’ve hurt most new marriages.”
“But it didn’t hurt yours?”
“No. She was actually proud of me.” He snorts. “Do you believe that?”
“She sounds like an amazing woman, Ash.” How could I ever compete with that kind of perfection and history?
“That’s an understatement. All she ever asked for was a child. That was her big dream.” He looks across the room, seeing something that I can’t. “I knew it might act as a stressor on her body. A better man might’ve put his foot down.” He spears his shaking fingers through his hair. “She was so hopeful, though, and a child was the one thing she wanted most. How could I deny her that opportunity?” His voice shakes.
My eyes burn with the unshed tears I continue to hold back. The clog in my throat threatens to choke me.
“She was three months pregnant when she went into cardiac arrest.” His head drops. “There wasn’t much they could do. No matter how many people you lose in life, good-bye never gets easier.” He slouches forward with his hands on his knees. I move closer, unsure if my touch will be welcome.
“I don’t know what to say, Asher.”
“I’m not looking for you to make things better. There are no words for situations like these. I guess I needed you to understand me. To see m
e for who I truly am.”
I place my hand over his. “I’ve always seen you, Asher. I don’t need to know every moment of your history for that.”
He lifts his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy. “I never expected to meet anyone like you.” He runs the backs of his fingers down the side of my face.
“Like me?” I peer up at him through my lashes. “Is that a good thing or a bad one?”
“Good. Too good. You’re beautiful, kind, and impossible to ignore. I didn’t anticipate experiencing emotions like this again. I-I’m a bit of a mess. I’ve had two major tragedies in my life. They make this petrifying. But I could never live with myself if I continued to disregard this gift.”
“What?” My mouth goes dry. Is he calling me a gift?
He rests his forehead against mine. “This thing between us. You feel it, too, don’t you?”
I nod dumbly. Is this really happening?
“I tried to fight it. You deserve a man who’s whole.” Pulling away, he sighs heavily.
“You are whole,” I answer without thought.
He gives a bitter laugh. “I’m not sure if I know what that feels like.”
“Remembering the ones you loved doesn’t make you less put together than anyone else,” I argue vehemently.
“Clara. I’m rusty as hell at dating. This would be my … it’s my first time back on the scene—”
I place two fingers on his lips. “You’re being open and honest with me. That’s all I need from you.”
His eyes brighten. “You’re willing to give us a try?”
I cup his face and smile. Witnessing this uncertain version of the powerful man is endearing. The sexy, silver-tongued businessman always ready with a witty comment and polished manners is as human as the rest of us mere mortals. “Aren’t you tired of all this dancing around each other?” I tilt my head and smile.