Chapter 39 Ashlyn
Ashlyn
Oh, how I’ve missed this.
I am in the middle of changing a diaper for a one-year-old who is making it very clear she has more important things to do that lay here nicely for me while I wipe her bum.
I can’t help but be happy. It’s funny. Most people have no desire to work with children.
Especially ones that need diaper changes and throw fits over their friend eating one of their hundred Goldfish crackers. But I am in my element.
The only thing that’s hard about being back here is that despite there being five infants, two of which are around Bentley’s age, they aren’t Bentley. Caring for him wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a paid job. It wasn’t childcare or babysitting. It felt real. It felt like motherhood.
It felt like forever.
I shake the thought from my head as I slide Jenna’s pants back up and let her get up. “There. You’re free,” I say, dusting off my hands and giggling as she heads off to destroy the block castle another little girl is constructing.
“You might be the only person I know who smiles while changing that child’s diaper,” Hannah says as she restocks the baby wipes at the changing station.
“She’s just a little sassy,” I say. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“Sassy? I’m half convinced that the little girl’s parents bring her here just to get a break,” Hannah says at the exact moment that Jenny ransacks the block tower, leaving two other kids fussing and walking away with a smirk.
Hannah sighs. “I really am happy to have you back. You’re a natural.”
“You know, I’m happy to be back,” I admit, and I mean it. Despite everything going on, I am able to back burner a lot of the pain when I am here. It might only be a band-aid for now, but considering how badly my heart hurts, I’ll take what I can get.
As if Hannah can read my mind, she steps a little closer and lowers her voice. “Have you been able to reconnect with Bentley at all?”
Tears burn my eyes, and I shake my head.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah says. “But maybe with time.”
“I don’t know. I am starting to accept that I might never see him again,” I say quietly, and Hannah’s normally gentle face shifts to stern.
“Don’t ever accept that,” she says. “You belong in that child’s life. You belong in that man’s life too. He just has to come around, that’s all.”
“I don’t know that he ever will,” I tell her.
“He will.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask her.
“Because that’s how karma works. Someone framed you or betrayed him, or both. And things like that never stay hidden forever. It’s like splinter, you know. Eventually, it festers enough that it’s pushed to the surface,” she says before walking off to handle the Jenna situation.
I take a moment, restocking the shelves before the next shift of part-time girls comes in. Since I am full-time, I work both the morning and afternoon shifts. Around lunchtime, there is a trade-off with two of the other girls.
I want to think Hannah is right, and whoever is at fault will come forward. That all will be revealed. I think it’s safe to say I’m not feeling very optimistic these days.
“Ashlyn?”
I hear a voice behind me, and while it’s not familiar, it sounds a little odd. Like the person is surprised to see me. I turn around with a smile.
“Hi,” I say, and then the smile falls on the floor, and I gasp. “Becca. Hi.”
I don’t know who I was expecting, but it wasn’t Mitchell’s new wife.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I work here,” she says, and my jaw drops. “Only afternoon shifts and only twice a week,” she says.
“Oh. Right. Wow,” I laugh a little, though I’m not smiling. “Small world.”
“Yeah, it is,” she says softly, but something seems off. Most women in her position would be flaunting that they’re now married to the other woman’s ex. They’d be happily making small talk, waving their left hand around so that the ring is more than obvious. Then it hits me.
She’s not wearing a ring.
“How…” My question starts with a stutter, and I clear my throat. “How long have you worked here?”
“Only about two weeks,” she says. “Mitch and I separated.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, and I really do mean it. Because I can relate to the sadness in her voice. The emptiness in her eyes.
“Yeah. It’s wild. I loved him, you know? But I can’t be with a liar. I’m sure you can relate.”
“What did he lie about?” I ask. Part of me doesn’t want to know because I can tell it’s big. Big enough to open old wounds.
Hannah gives me an odd look. “The vasectomy he had when he was younger,” she says, and every word feels like a bullet to the chest.
“The vasectomy…”
“Yeah. You know, I only found out because when we were at the doctor to figure out if there was something wrong with me, the doctor saw it on his medical record,” she half-laughs.
“Can you believe that? I found out from a doctor that he can’t have kids, by choice, with him standing there playing dumb.
I just can’t believe I didn’t– oh. Oh god.
You didn’t know…” she says with a look of horror, and it’s only then that I realize I am crying.
“No, I didn’t,” I admit. “I had no idea.”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she says, but I shake my head.
“No. I’m glad you did,” I say, blinking back the tears and straightening up. Then I smile at her the best I can. “I’m not upset with you. Thank you for being genuine with me. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m sorry you did too,” she says, and we hug. As odd as it might sound, it felt like the right thing to do for both of us.
I work the rest of my shift on autopilot, dealing with fussy babies voluntarily because as crazy as it sounds, it’s the perfect buffer to shield me from my emotions.
Between losing Bentley and Zane and finding out that I was never the reason I wasn’t getting pregnant, my world is in pieces.
And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to put it back together again.
After my shift, I walk to my car and close the door. The flood of emotion I had been holding inside for the last couple of hours breaks free from the dam, and for a while, I just sit in my car sobbing. Eventually, it dries out, but I still can’t bring myself to do anything just yet.
Maren Morris plays softly over the radio, and I wish I smoked like she sings in the song. Times like this are when smokers would light one up, but I’m not a smoker. Wine doesn’t even sound good. Nothing sounds good. I just want to sit in the hurt for a moment.
But as soon as I close my eyes, squeezing out a few hot, salty stray tears, my phone rings. I look down and see that it’s a three-way call.
“Hey,” I answer.
“You sound like hell. What’s wrong?” Alice asks. “Other than your life.”
“Well, I just found out Mitch had a vasectomy,” I say flatly.
“What?” Troy asks.
“Who told you that?” Alice asks.
“Becca.”
“Ew. Why were you talking to Becca?” Alice asks.
“We work together,” I say.
“Wait, what?” Troy asks.
“Okay, hold on,” Alice cuts in. “We will circle back to that for sure. But first, we have to tell you something,” she says, and by the urgency in her voice, I can tell it’s not good.
“Alright,” I sigh. “Hit me.”
“Those photos that came out of you and Zane? They weren’t published by Sigma,” Alice says.
“Okay?” I ask.
“They were published by Deborah,” Troy says.
“She went rogue,” Alice adds.
“Which is why we never saw them,” Troy says. “Trust me, if those photos had crossed my desk for edit, I would have refused.”
“Our theory,” Alice goes on. “Is that Deborah knew that. She also knew how shady they were, and doing it under the table was the only way they’d go public.”
“I mean, it makes sense,” I say. “Like payback for quitting.”
“Exactly,” Troy says.
“But that still doesn’t answer the question of who took them…and how,” I say. Because Zane claims he isn’t close to anyone. Still, I have an eerie feeling about it.