Chapter 15 Zoya
ZOYA
Ashbourne, New York
When we arrived in Ashbourne last night, I was surprised.
I had fallen asleep on the drive up, so when I woke up to the sun setting over the lake, I grew excited.
The last time I had been in Ashbourne was when I came to visit Quasim and Blair while he was recovering.
Even then, it wasn’t the best time because there was tension between them.
They weren’t in the best place within their marriage, and then she was pregnant.
Still, I never stayed at my family’s house that took up the other end of the shore.
Blair set the guest room up for me, and we spent our time there.
She slept in the room with me some nights, and I could tell she needed the girl time.
Capri was swamped with work and couldn’t pull away as easily as I could.
Ashbourne was refreshing for me. The air felt cleaner, and everything was slow moving. The shops were my favorite thing about the city. It reminded me of some cheesy small-town movie where old crushes run into each other coming out of a conveniently located coffee shop.
The last time I was here, me and Blair spent so much time shopping the local stores. She lost me when she wanted to go thrifting at the local thrift shop. There wasn’t anything wrong with thrifting, it just wasn’t for me.
It wasn’t because it was worn or used items. I had a thing where I believed spirits were attached to items. While Blair was trying to buy my God baby this white dress, all I that kept running through my head was Annabelle.
The minute she put that dress on her, she would turn into a baby demon and then we would have to take her down.
I mean, Quasim was a praying man so he could probably do a baptism or whatever the hell it was called.
I drew the line at thrifting and Blair learned a valuable lesson that day.
By the time I had got done explaining all the things that could happen, she told me she didn’t want to shop anymore and went to grab a milkshake from the ice cream shop a few doors down.
I enjoyed everything about Ashbourne, and in a perfect world, I could see myself actually living here.
Whenever I was in Ashbourne, I was at peace.
It was everything from sitting on the back patio, listening to the waves crash against the shore, while smelling the fresh lake water.
People were always running along the shoreline while I sat with my laptop, taking it all in.
Being in Ashbourne was good for my soul. I was able to relax and not use my brain as much. Work was still there; however, it wasn’t as stressful being near water. So, when I saw that Ashbourne Shores sign, I smiled because this was my peace.
Midway through the drive, he received a call that wasn’t good. I could tell from the way his body tensed up and the way he spoke. I had been around my brothers long enough to know that whenever something bad happened, they were always short with their replies while on the phone.
It was a little after ten when we arrived, so there wasn’t much time for conversation. I was still tired, and he was tense about whatever call he got, and the situation with his cousin.
The house we were staying in was beautiful.
Smaller than my family’s home, but that was what made it perfect.
I was a sucker for a quaint property. Even with it being quaint, this bitch probably cost millions.
The weathered cedar shingles gave it the timeless coastal charm that seemed to touch every house here.
Large bay windows stretched toward the backyard, opening up to the shimmery lake.
My heart softened when I noticed the wide wraparound porch, complete with a swing that looked like it had been waiting for me.
In front, the wildflowers planted in neat beds were on display in beautiful and vibrant colors, softening the wood and giving the house some softness.
If the lake view ever lost its magic, the porch gave you the best view of the neighborhood.
The charm followed inside the house with bleached wood floors that stretched across open rooms. If the sun was up when we arrived, the light would have been spilling everywhere through the oversized windows designed to showcase the lake from nearly every angle.
The house’s color scheme was soft and calming with beiges, pale creams and muted sea greens.
Every corner of this home felt intentional, every detail was put together with love.
It was cozy, but not in the cramped sense, but in a way that felt whole.
Like every wall in this home was meant to feel like a hug while on your journey from room to room.
The warmth was the kind that you prayed for when it came to having a home.
A warmth that I hadn’t experienced in years, not even in my own home.
Gerald had us in two separate rooms.
He showed me to my room and said he would take the room down the hall. Lowkey, I didn’t know how to take it. On the ride up here, I half expected us to share a room.
Just when I thought I had this man all figured out, he always tossed a soft curveball, reminding me that I didn’t know him like I thought I did.
I respected that he didn’t assume I would be comfortable enough to share a room with him.
Even though I was looking forward to sharing a bed with him – again.
When we were in Barbados, we slightly shared a room, and I got the best sleep with him. Even when my period cramps were kicking my ass, feeling him slowly rubbing my stomach while his lips rested on my temple as we were in bed was everything.
It made me feel loved.
The thought of someone loving me scared me so bad that my own thoughts started to give me hives, so I turned my attention to the sun creeping over the lake.
I had the perfect view from the bed. Before taking my Ambien, I silenced my phone and climbed into the bed.
I just knew it would be hard to fall asleep knowing that Gerald was right down the hall, so I popped my medicine so I could sleep.
My Ambien was forever working against me when I was home. The minute my head touched my pillow, I didn’t remember anything. If someone would have asked my name, I probably would have told them it was Maverick Caselli.
After sitting here in my thoughts for a few, I finally pulled the covers from my body, I stretched slightly before shuffling across the room towards the bathroom.
I did my usual stare down with myself, and questioned what the hell I was doing here?
How did I allow this man to kidnap me and take me to one of my favorite places?
How did he know?
I had so many questions and last night didn’t seem like the right time to ask those questions. Once he showed me to my room, he kissed my forehead and then headed towards his.
It made sense though.
Gerald was a gentleman. He wasn’t the type to take advantage or think he was owed anything.
The men he ran with weren’t cut like that either.
Not to mention, he was also Muslim as well.
Although he and Cappadonna were breaking damn near every rule of the Quran, they still held their religion close to their chests.
Alaia said Capp wouldn’t have sex with her until she was his wife.
As hardened and menacing as these men were in the streets, they held things close to them.
Cherished their religion and the women they were serious about.
I mean, Cappadonna was fucking scary if you didn’t know him.
When I watched him be a father and grandfather, you wouldn’t have thought it was the same man.
I rummaged through my toiletries bag and snatched my antidepressants and shook out two before washing them down with the bottle of spring water near the sink.
Taking a deep breath, I did my ten-step skin care and brushed my teeth before pulling my silk scarf from my head.
I brushed my hair out before tossing it into a high pony for the day.
Gerald never told me why we came to Ashbourne, so I packed a little bit of everything.
I snatched out a three-piece athletic set and checked myself out in the mirror.
I enjoyed a cute athleisure set with sneakers, as much as I loved my pants suits and heels.
I was feeling so good that I didn’t bother to put any makeup on for the day.
I could hear music lowly playing when I exited the bedroom.
The smell of breakfast filled my nose, as my feet carried me down the stairs toward the kitchen.
By the stove, with a kitchen towel tossed over his shoulder, and shirtless, and with a matcha beside him, Gerald stood there.
He had a fork in one hand with a glass plate covered with paper towel, while he pulled the bacon from the frying pan.
“Good morning, I didn’t know you liked matcha,” I decided to speak, since his back was turned while he was concentrating on not getting popped by the grease.
“Good morning, Boobie…trying to cut down on my coffee. My brother drinks them… slept good?”
I smiled. “I haven’t slept like that in a while…. Ashbourne always brings this peace for me. My ambien worked last night.”
“Why you taking that?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to sleep at times. I spend so much time thinking about cases at work that I always end up down the hall in my office.”
He turned around, and sat the bacon down on the counter, giving me his undivided attention. “Why don’t you visit often if it makes you feel good?”
Gerald scared me.
Mainly because he paid attention to me. I couldn’t say I had ever dated a man that paid attention and actually cared. Men always pretended to care, when in reality, they were focused on one thing.
Pussy.
I’ve been in a relationship with a man that claimed to want more from me, and he couldn’t tell me what my favorite ice cream was. Caring had always been an illusion, a trick that men used to make a woman fall for them.
In my world, it was never real for me.