by Nikki Ash
He arches a brow. “Moved? Where?”
“Across town.”
My townhouse is nothing extravagant, but it’s definitely better for Dahlia and me compared to the old apartment I lived in.
“Why?”
“Why’d I move?” I repeat in confusion. “Because I can. Because I wanted to. What’s it to you?” I realize I probably sound way too defensive and wince, closing my eyes.
“You’re with someone now.” I don’t know how or why he draws this conclusion and I swear I detect the barest hint of hurt in his tone.
I don’t correct him even though I should. “Yeah.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear to hide the shaking in my fingers over the lie. “I am.”
He rubs his lips together, bowing his head. “That’s that then, I guess?”
“Mhmm.” I know better than to open my mouth because I suck at lying.
He clears his throat and looks away. “Let me at least walk you to your car. It’s dark.”
I nod, because this part of town can be sketchy at this hour. “Okay.”
It only takes us three minutes to make it to the parking lot and my waiting car. Thank God it’s too dark for him to see the baby seat in my car—my mom has her own when she has Dahlia.
I open up my car door and he stands a few feet away. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He taps the bottom of the carton against his palm a few times before opening the new box. He slides out two white cylinders, offering one to me since I used to smoke.
“No, thanks. I quit.” After I got pregnant I knew I had to quit cold turkey. It was hell, but I don’t regret it. I had been trying to quit for years and nothing ever worked, but I wasn’t willing to harm my unborn baby.
He chuckles, putting one away and placing the other between his lips. “A lot’s changed, huh?”
More than he knows. “Life goes on.”
He lights up and inhales a lungful, letting it go slowly as he looks toward one of the streetlights. “That is does,” he murmurs. His eyes meet mine in the dark and in them I see regret and something that looks almost like longing. “Be safe.”
He taps the hood of my car as he walks past and I slip inside, starting the engine.
Blowing out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I finally put the car in reverse and go to pick up my daughter.
Chapter Five
Travis
I’ve been home a week and living off takeout, so that means a trip to the grocery store is necessary. Grabbing a cart, I stroll over to the fruits and vegetables first. More than a few eyes stray my way, zeroing in on the tats covering both my arms and wrapped around my neck. I can see the judgment, feel it too, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve always found it amusing how people want to base someone’s worth on whether or not their skin is naked or covered in ink. Last I checked, a tattoo doesn’t make someone asshole—that’s all personality. But apparently there’s this old school thought that if you’re tatted, you’re a thug.
I smile at a little old lady as I pick up a bag of apples dropping them into my cart.
“Oh!” She clutches the collar of her pink shirt, looking away in embarrassment.
Yeah, I caught you staring.
Pushing the cart through the store I collect everything I need and drop way more money than I planned on spending but at least it’s cheaper than what I’ve spent on restaurant and fast food this week.
Since I have so much stuff, I choose to go through the line instead of self-checkout like I’d normally do.
Of course, there’s only one lane open and everyone apparently decided to come to the grocery store tonight. I feel irritation crawl up my spine, but really, it’s not the cashier or anyone else’s fault. It’s mine. I’ve been prickly all week since I found out Alba has a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter that she’s in a relationship. There are plenty of other women in the world and I’ve never wanted to settle down with any of them. But the fact that she’s officially off-limits grates on me in a way I’ve never had before. It’s not this need of wanting her because I can’t have her, it’s the gnawing realization that I’ve lost something that has the potential to be really great—all because I was too dumb to see it before it was too late.
The line moves up the smallest bit and I feel bad for the cashier. It’s nearing closing time and I’m sure the last thing she wants to deal with is a string of people cramming up the line.
A tap on my shoulder has me looking behind me, but the guy I see is too far back to have touched me.
“Down here, Giant.”
Dropping my head I take in the tiny woman standing behind me with a bottle of wine in one hand a gallon of ice cream in the other. I recognize her immediately as Alba’s right-hand woman and friend.
“Astrid, right?”
“Yep. So, are you back for good now?”
My brow wrinkles at her question, wondering why it’s important to her. “Um, yeah. I had some family stuff to deal with, but I’m back. Why don’t you go in front of me? I have a lot more than you.”
“Oh,” she smiles gratefully, “thank you.” She wiggles her body between my cart and the shelf of candy bars. She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and lets it go. I can see the nerves vibrating off of her. “This isn’t my place,” she looks around like someone might overhear, “but be careful with her.”
“With who?”
“Alba.” She rolls her eyes like I’m so dumb for not realizing who she was referring. “She’s a good person and she cares a lot about the people in her life. She deserves everything and I know she likes you even if she won’t admit it. So, be careful with her. If you’re not interested in her in that way then stay away from her but you need to be there for—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Shut up, Astrid, it’s not yours to tell,” she mutters to herself. “Anyway, just be careful.”
“I am.” Now she’s the one looking confused. “Interested in her, I mean. But she told me she has a boyfriend.”
Astrid lets out a pig-like snort. “Trust me, Alba doesn’t have a boyfriend. The closest she’s come in years is the weird little flirtation you two have.” She wiggles her fingers at me, nearly dropping her wine bottle in the process.
“She doesn’t?”
Why is hope filling my chest? It shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t matter. But here I am.
“Nope.” Astrid places her two items on the conveyer belt as we finally get close to being able to checkout. “She’s as single as a pringle—extra crisp too because she needs to get laid.” She deepens her tone on the word laid and does a dramatic fanfare with her hands. “Trust me, she’d be a lot easier to deal with.”
I crack a smile, amused by the tiny woman in front of me and her antics.
She doesn’t say anything else to me as the cashier finishes with the man in front of her and rings up her two items. Astrid pays and grabs her bags, but doesn’t leave immediately, turning to me where I work on getting the last of my shit out of the cart.
“Don’t be mad at her when you find out.”
I narrow my eyes. “Huh?”
“Just remember what I said.”
She hurries toward the exit and disappears. I know by the time I get checked out and to the parking lot she’ll be long gone and I won’t be able to question what she means.
That doesn’t mean it’ll stop me from puzzling it over all night long.
Drinking my coffee, I stare across the street at Alba’s shop. The crimson red script spells out Between the Lines. Thoughts swim through my head, all centering around the curvy dark-haired beauty and wondering why she’d lie about a boyfriend. More so, I wish understood Astrid’s cryptic statement to not be mad when I find out. Find out what? Astrid told me the boyfriend thing was a lie so what else could she be referring to?
“Whatcha thinking about man?” Harry, one of the artists that works in my shop, steps up beside me, following my eyes out the window. He chuckles, running his fingers through his ice blond hair. “Still hung up on that chi
ck after all this time?”
“I’m looking out a window,” I deadpan.
He rolls his neck back and forth cracking it. “I’m not dumb. You had a thing for her before. If you asked me, she always liked you too. Fiery that one. You should go for it.”
Was it that obvious to everyone but Alba and me?
I blink at Harry. He’s not someone I know all that well, he works at the shop and we’ve been to the bar together a few times, but we’ve never talked much and definitely not about Alba.
“Hey,” he says when I don’t say anything, tossing his hands in the air, “who am I to tell you what to do?”
I allow my eyes to linger across the street a few seconds longer before tearing them away and getting my station ready for my first client.
I’ve been lucky that in the short time I’ve been back several past clients have been eager to book me for new work. Already I have the next three weeks fully booked and since I need the money I’m not complaining.
When my first client shows up for a simple quote on her inner forearm I sit down and get to work. The feel of the gun buzzing between my fingers is a familiar reminder that life goes on. My brother’s life ended but mine hasn’t and that means I have to get out there and do something about it.
Two clients later and it’s already time to break for lunch. Heading out, I grab a cigarette and stick it between my lips. I don’t light it. Not because I don’t want to, but because I owe it to my brother to try to quit. He always used to gripe about them giving me cancer. Little did we know that it’d be my health nut baby brother who got sick instead.
Nothing in life is guaranteed—particularly life itself.
Tossing the unused cigarette into a trashcan I pull open the door for the local ice cream shop. There are only a few people in line so I take a look at the menu deciding what kind of sandwich and ice cream I want. I’ve always had a terrible sweet tooth, another bad habit I should try to kick, but today’s not that day.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” I know the voice, only because I think about it way too often. Peeking over my shoulder I meet the fuming eyes of Alba. “How are you always everywhere?”
“Magic.”
“Ugh,” she rolls her eyes, “I can’t escape you.”
“Are you trying to escape me? Because last I checked I was here first, you could always leave?”
“Don’t spew your weird man logic at me.” She speaks to my back since I’m facing forward. “I’m craving ice cream and I’m going to have ice cream.”
“I just so happen to want ice cream too. Seems we’re at an impasse.”
She becomes silent behind me and I’d think she’d decided to leave if it weren’t for the heat searing into my back from her stare.
It’s my turn to place my order and I smile at the girl working the register. “Hi, I’ll have the turkey, apple, and brie sandwich with fries and two scoops of the peach ice cream.”
She rings me up and I pass her enough cash to more than cover my order and whatever Alba gets. “This is for her order too,” I whisper low enough for Alba not to hear.
The girl peeks over my shoulder and smiles. “That’s sweet,” she whispers back. She dips out my ice cream into a cup and passes it across the counter to me. “Your sandwich and fries will be out soon if you want to take a seat.”
I grab a plastic spoon and take a seat at one of the booths tucked into the corner. I’ve only taken two bites of ice cream—I couldn’t resist—when Alba storms over simmering with barely controlled rage. Her hackles are raised and she looks like some sort of avenging warrior. My treacherous dick starts to get hard. I’m way too attracted to this woman for my own good.
“You took the last of the peach ice cream!” Her shriek draws looks from the other patrons.
“Uh … I didn’t know?” For some reason it comes out as a question. “You want some?” I hold out the cup of ice cream to her.
“I don’t want your ice cream.” Her hands go to her hips as she glowers at me. The glasses she sometimes wears slide down her nose, but she doesn’t bother pushing them up. “I want my own.”
“But … they’re out according to you. Should I go in the back and churn more?”
Do you even churn ice cream or is that butter?
She throws her hands up. “I just don’t understand what it is with you and messing with my life all the time. Now that you’re back you’ve already stolen my pen, my coffee, and my ice cream.”
I point my spoon at her. “I didn’t intentionally steal your ice cream so there’s a difference.”
“You didn’t have to pay for my order either,” she continues to rant, “I am a smart, independent woman and I don’t need a man’s help for anything. I’m fine on my own.”
I quirk a brow. “I apologize if I offended you or any way implied you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. I was just trying to be nice.”
“Well, stop!” she cries, desperation on her face. I swear even her eyes look a little glassy. “I don’t need you. I never needed you. I can handle things just fine on my own.”
I sit in stunned silence as she tucks tail and runs out the door.
The girl that had been working the register brings my sandwich and looks from me out the window to Alba’s retreating figure. “Why is she running away?”
“Honestly?” I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “I have no idea. Did she get lunch?”
“Mhmm.”
“Can you bring it to me? I’ll drop it off for her.”
“Sure thing.”
I throw my ice cream away, not able to stomach it anymore after that encounter. Normally our banter excites me, but today it’s left me with a heavy feeling in my stomach.
It isn’t long before the girl is passing Alba’s lunch to me. I had planned to eat here, but there’s no point now.
Stopping in front of the door for Between the Lines I take a deep breath, not sure what wrath I might be facing this time. But when I open the door Alba isn’t in the main area. Astrid sits at the front counter and there’s a guy at a station with a client.
Astrid arches a brow at me, fighting a smile as she flicks a gossip magazine closed.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, glance darting to the back where Alba must be.
I hold up the bag of food that’s hers. “She forgot this.”
Astrid’s brow furrows. “Did you guys get lunch together?”
I shake my head. “Accidentally.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “The fates are playing a cruel joke on my lovely boss.” She holds her hand out for the bag and I pass it over. “I’ll give this to her.”
I hesitate for a second, rocking on my feet. “She’s okay, right?”
My brother’s tumor and death is still a fresh wound for me and it makes me feel particularly uneasy about the people around me. I never used to be paranoid, but when you see someone in their early twenties cut down so quickly it’s a hard pill to swallow.
“Yeah, I’m sure she’s a little overwhelmed with … everything.” I linger for a second and she smiles like she senses my worry and hesitation. “I’ll check on her, go on back to work.”
Clearing my throat, I utter a barely audible, “Thanks.”
Back across the street the door hasn’t even closed behind me when Jess eyes the sack of food in my hands. “I thought you said you were eating there?”
I walk past her, heading toward my office. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dropping the bag on my desk I collapse in the chair, my head falling to my hands. Confusion rages through me, all because of the crazy woman across the street and I have no idea what I’m going to do about it. I’ve always been able to let things roll off my back and not be bothered about what people think of me, but when it comes to Alba, I find myself wanting her to like me and I can’t shake the feeling there’s something I don’t understand.
Chapter Six
Alba
“Knock, knock.”
“You know, most people would actually knock.” I look up from the desktop computer to find Astrid standing in the doorway. My eyes zero in on the brown paper bag in her hands with a fox logo. “Where did you get that?”
She strides further into my office and sticks her arm out, the bag swaying. “Lover boy dropped it off. Did you run out on your secret lunch date?”
Snatching the bag from her I peek inside and find my sandwich and bag of chips. “There was no secret lunch date. It was coincidence that we were there at the same time and as you can see, I left because of it.”
She perches her butt on the end of my desk. I’ve never been a physically angry person before, but I find myself wishing I could shove her off.
“Stop being so immature, Alba. You’re nearly thirty. You’re a business owner. You have a good head on your shoulders.” She ticks everything off on her fingers. “Travis is back for good. You have to tell him.” Her eyes stray to the playpen in the corner of the room where Dahlia snoozes peacefully, milk drunk from the bottle I fed her before I went to get my own lunch.
My shoulders slump with the weight of the guilt I’ve been carrying around. “I know.” I bury my face in my hands. Letting them drop I face her with tears in my eyes. “I tried, remember? When I found out I was pregnant I tried to tell him.”
Sympathy floods her face, and she covers my hand with hers. “I know you did, babe, but he obviously never got them, and he has a right to know about her. I know it’s scary, but you have to tell him.”
I wet my lips, damming back the tears so desperate to fall. “I will. I’ll do it.”
She squeezes my hand in reassurance. “Don’t overthink it.”
Staring at the number I put in my phone against my better judgment I pace back and forth down the upstairs hallway of my townhome.
I’m being pathetic. A total and complete wimp. My mom didn’t raise me to be like this.