17. Whiskey & Ice Cream
Chapter 17
Whiskey it’s a totally different league.
Some women can handle it, and more power to them, but I’m struggling to come to terms with his new reality. Our new reality, if we even have one at all.
“I would do anything to keep you safe, even if it breaks me into a million pieces.” Ash’s words emerge in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m safe, Ash. My heart is broken, but the rest of me will survive.”
His hands slide along my jaw, his fingers gentle, but his eyes are anything but. A turbulent mix of emotions swirls in them, and I can’t look away.
“Yours isn’t the only heart broken. Please don’t give up on us. I swear on my life, I’ll give you a fairytale ending.”
I cover his hands with mine and force a smile, even though my heart feels like it’s splintering. Finally, I dare to speak the words that have haunted me for weeks.
“I’m afraid of this new normal. Afraid of being second best. Afraid of you falling back in love with Lucille and leaving me shit out of luck.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“All the spots in my heart are already filled. By you.”
Damn him. The man said nothing remotely over-the-top romantic in all the months we dated, but now he’s a regular Shakespeare.
“Ori, I’d tear this whole damn world apart and build it back just to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Tears stream down my face as I run my fingertips over his bearded jaw. “Why couldn’t it have been you? I wanted it to be you so badly.”
“Mark my words, it’s going to be me. You’re mine, Oriana Thorne. You’re mine .”
Ash captures my mouth in a fiery kiss. Shockwaves shoot through me as my knees threaten to buckle beneath me. His tongue glides against mine, low moans rising from his chest as he reclaims my body as his own.
He knits his fingers in my hair, edging closer, his length flush against me. Daring me to run from the only thing I know is true: I’m forever in love with Asher Hammond.
And I don’t know what to do about it.
I slide my hands along his chest, breaking out of the kiss. “Ash?—”
But Ash doesn’t want to hear my arguments. His hands slip around the nape of my neck, drawing me back into the moment.
Releasing a heated groan, he lifts me onto the bar, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of my blouse as his tongue dances along every inch of my exposed skin. All the while, he murmurs my name like a prayer, soft and reverent.
“Ash? Are you down here?”
A woman’s voice calls from the basement stairs, and I rip away from him, covering my mouth with my hand.
Ash shakes his head with a muttered curse. “I’m down here. What’s up, Lucille?”
Her footsteps echo on the stairs as she descends, and I scramble off the bar, desperate to make it to the bathroom before she sees me.
No such luck.
Lucille’s face registers surprise when she spots me. “Hi, Ori. I didn’t realize you were down here.”
On the plus side, there’s no anger in her tone. On the negative side, she looks more pregnant than ever—a cutting reminder of who she is and what she carries inside her.
“I wanted to see the, uh, speakeasy. The renovations. And I have a mirror for Ash.” I stumble over my words, much like a student caught without their homework.
“It’s beautiful down here, isn’t it?” Lucille runs a hand over the paneled wall, her gaze lingering on Ash before flicking back to me.
“What do you want, Lucille?” Ash barks, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.
Lucille tilts her head, her hand settling instinctively on her belly. “I just got back from the doctor, and the roads are getting bad, so I figured we should head home. Leave the car here and take the four-wheel drive.”
Oh my God. Ash missed her doctor’s appointment to hang out with me?
I feel sick.
“You should go,” I mumble, glancing down at my blouse, still half open from Ash’s earlier exploration. Heat rushes to my cheeks. “I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
Ash follows me, his steps close behind as I push the door open. His face is awash with remorse as he punches the newly hung sheetrock with a muttered curse.
“You need to go,” I say quietly, refusing to meet his gaze as I button my blouse and twist my hair into a bun. “She’s right—the storm’s supposed to be nasty tonight.”
“I can sleep on the couch here. You can stay with me.”
“Definitely not.”
“Ori—” He grabs my arm, pulling me close, his whiskey-tinged breath warm against my ear. “Give me five minutes to walk her out. I promise I’ll spend the rest of the night making love to you. That’s all I want.”
And therein lies the problem.
I press my hands against his chest, creating the distance I desperately need. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Or what I want. It’s not reality. Not anymore. The reality is the woman you once adored is living at your house and carrying your baby. No other way to spin that story. I don’t have a place in it, and I have to be okay with that.”
I press a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering, before pulling back. God knows I want to fall into him and never surface.
But reality stands on the other side of that door, waiting for the man I longed to call mine, but who has always belonged to her.
“I need to go.”
I pull open the door, sighing when Ash forces it shut again.
“Ash, you have to stop.”
“I’ve only adored one woman in my life.”
“I know.”
“It isn’t Lucille.”
God help my heart.
I force back the tears and lift my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, vulnerable—the same look he reserves for moments when it’s just the two of us. It’s the glimpse of the man he was before time and life broke him apart.
A man I thought I could help piece back together.
Turns out, I wasn’t needed. The star of his show is back, and it’s time for me to bow out.
Ash trails behind me as I walk back into the bar, sending Lucille an embarrassed smile.
Even though he claims to be single, her presence is that of a woman who knows she still has some claim to him. Meanwhile, I feel like the home wrecking harlot.
Good times.
“Ori,” Ash’s voice is thick with emotion, but there’s nothing left to say.
Like I told him earlier, there’s no room in his life for me now.
Perhaps there never was.