31. Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
Aspen
T he day finally arrives.
It’s still dark out when I jump out of bed, shrugging off the grogginess from a sleepless night. That’s excitement, anticipation, and nerves for you. They won’t allow your brain to shut down until they are good and ready.
If today is successful, the first thing I’m doing is quitting the Silver Stiletto. Damn, please let it be successful.
Donning my oldest pair of jeans and a grubby t-shirt, I glance worriedly out the window. It’s too early to say just yet, but the weather forecasted a cool, but cloudless day.
Let’s hope the wind behaves.
A knock on the door has me throwing my hair in a ponytail.
“It’s open,” I call out while grabbing the bag I packed last night. I don’t bother with makeup. That will come later, after I’ve slaved the day away in Frosty’s kitchen preparing the food we’ll serve later.
“You ready for today?” a beaming Bailey asks as she walks in, Kallan hot on her heels.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I blow out a breath that feels like it comes from the tips of my toes. Today might just be the start of a new life for me.
We’re carpooling to the harbor because we’re all going there, anyway, so it’s just easier. I’m thankful because I’m so nervous, I might just crash my car on the way.
“You okay back there?” Kallan asks, smiling at me in the rearview mirror.
I want to yell, “No, I’m not. And why the hell can’t you drive any faster?” but settle for a nod, returning his smile.
Bailey must notice my squirming because she turns her head, smiling at me reassuringly.
“Relax. Today’s going to be a huge success. You’ll see.”
If it is, it’s all because of my friends. They’ve truly gone above and beyond for this, making their businesses available, placing fliers in their shops to create awareness, and drumming up sponsorships.
I’m concerned that the tickets haven’t all sold out, but people can still buy them at the venue, so there’s still time.
“How did it go?”
My eyes are anxiously trying to pick Kallan’s expression apart when he walks into Frosty’s. He helped man Carter’s boat, so if he’s here, it means the cruise is over, and people will soon start trickling in.
He sighs, his big shoulders heaving. “The bad news is, we lost a dog. The good news is we managed to save the owner who jumped overboard to save him. Or her. It’s hard to say with all that fur. Anyway, it was close, though.”
I stare at him, my jaw slack, picturing the lawsuit I’m about to face.
“Now, where’s Bailey?”
He doesn’t wait for my answer, making a beeline straight to the kitchen.
My head whips back to the door, where a laughing Aiden walks in. “Relax, sunshine. He’s pulling your leg.”
My relief is so great that my knees almost buckle. I’m going to freaking murder him.
“So it all went well?” I ask, anxiously wringing my hands.
“Without a hitch.” He boops my nose. “The people loved it. The dogs too, from what I could tell, not that I’m an expert.”
I mutter a thanks to the heavens. About to return to the kitchen, I stop when Ryan walks in.
My attempts to question his move haven’t led to anything. Everyone has been annoyingly vague, telling me to just ask him directly, but I haven’t done that since I messaged him that night. By the time I got home, the shock had worn off, and I realized it was none of my business. I’ve told him many times we were done, so how can I expect him to give me answers?
It hurts, but it is what it is.
“Well, that was something.” Smiling, he runs his hands through the tangled mess of his hair.
My jaw clenches against the thudding ache in my chest as I take him in. I used to run my hand through his hair. Often. I just need this feeling to stop, damn it. I’ve been excited all day. The last thing I need is for this familiar sorrow to steal it away from me.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”
Which is stupid, really. He was there that night at Frosty’s, so he must have been in on the plan.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he shrugs, looking around the still-empty Frosty’s. “Carter needed all the help he could get with that many people.”
As if talking about him summoned him, Carter walks in with a huge smile on his face. “We were filled to capacity. Who knew so many people would be keen to take their dogs out on a harbor cruise? I might just add this to my catalog. Make it a monthly thing.” He slaps Ryan on the back. “Good thinking, batman,” he murmurs, but not soft enough.
Ryan gives him a dirty look and my eyes narrow.
“Anyway,” he says, drawing the word out, “Are you ready for the onslaught that’s on its way?”
I nod, not taking my eyes off Ryan, who’s looking at everything but me, taking in what we’ve done with the place. Instead of live music, we’ll be using the jukebox, and the area where the band usually plays will serve as a dance floor. We’ve moved tables around to make space for a rectangular table by the wall across from the bar. That’s where the raffle will be happening.
I drag my eyes back to Carter when it becomes obvious that Ryan’s committed to his path of avoidance.
“The food is done, just some last touches to go, and FYI, Nathan missed his calling. He should have been a drill sergeant.”
He was paranoid we’d burn his kitchen down or something to that effect, treating us like a bunch of five-year-olds who’ve never seen the inside of a kitchen.
Who knew there was a certain way to chop onions? After today, I’m sure if the rescue doesn’t work out, I’d be a shoo-in for the job as a professional onion chopper if such a thing existed. I certainly feel and smell like one.
Better than Rose, I suppose, who smells like a garlic farm.
Maya got the best deal, making the pup cups. We rock, paper, scissored on who’d get to do it, and Maya walked away victorious.
“Okay, let me get to it.”
Just as I’m about to enter the kitchen, I pause, still unsettled by Carter’s comment, and notice them whispering. Ryan’s expression is tense and frustrated—clearly, he’s not pleased. Carter says something that makes Ryan shake his head firmly, and when Carter laughs, Ryan responds by not so playfully punching him on the shoulder.
“Poo on aisle ten,” Hannah sings, bustling into the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty glasses.
“Not again,” Aiden groans, making us laugh.
Yeah, rock, paper, scissors wasn’t his friend tonight. Trudging to the back door, he grabs the mop and bucket, shooting us a dirty look.
“If it’s any consolation, the last dog just left,” she calls to his back.
“That’s so gross and unsanitary.”
I smirk as I catch Piper’s eye-roll from across the kitchen. Cassie waltzed in shortly before we started serving food, dressed for a night out on the town. She tried taking charge of the kitchen, inserting herself wherever she could. We were having none of it, basically just ignoring her. Like an annoying fly. Maybe we wouldn’t have if she actually helped with anything, but…no, not even then.
“It’s not like we allowed any dogs into the kitchen,” Maya says, scowling at her.
Most people started leaving right after the raffle—which was a resounding success. I guess you can only be out so long before you need to get your pooch home.
I was brought to tears by the amount of prizes businesses from around the town donated. Turns out the woman I saw sitting next to Ryan at Frosty’s heads up the Westhill Business Owner Committee. When Bailey pitched the idea of businesses donating towards the raffle at one of their meetings, she took charge and ran with it, making it her mission to procure as many as she could.
I’ll have to remember to thank her.
Carter was the perfect showman, acting as the MC and doing the raffle draws. His cheeky suggestion of auctioning himself off for a date with the lucky winner was met with resounding cheers. And lots of gagging from Rose.
Grabbing the glasses from Hannah, I pack them into the industrial-sized dishwasher.
“I don’t know what Nathan sees in her. She’s a bitch.”
Shrugging, I grab the plate Rose’s holding out. “Whatever it is, it’s not her personality. That’s for sure.”
“It’s the boobs,” Piper says, joining us. “They’re huge. Men can look past anything for an enormous set of boobs.”
“Spot on,” Rose mutters, glaring at Cassie.
Straightening, I wipe some stray hairs from my face. “When did you two become so cynical?”
“Not cynical, babe. Realistic.”
“Here we go,” Kallan says, interrupting whatever Piper was about to say, handing me the donation box. He was in charge of taking donations and handing out tickets, and he took his job damn seriously, not allowing anyone else near the box.
I take it from him, my hands shaky with anticipation. All the tickets sold out, blowing my expectations out of the water, and whatever is in this box will just be the icing on the cake.
“Go on. Go check.”
Not having to be told twice, I grab the keys from Nathan, who’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and spin on my heels, marching to his office. The urge to check it must be stamped across my whole body because chuckles follow me out of the kitchen.
Dropping down onto the chair, I rip the lid off and start counting. My heart beats faster with every note I tally, my mind morphing every note into a picture of an item I’ll buy for the rescue.
Every thought comes to a screeching halt, and I completely lose track of my count when I pick up the piece of paper nestled between the notes.
My breath leaves me in a rush when I comprehend the number of zeros printed on the cashier’s cheque shaking in my hands. This can’t be right. Frantically, I search for who it’s from, but there’s nothing. Just a blank space where the remitter’s name should be.
This has to be wrong. Who would drop an anonymous cheque for an absurd amount of money into a donation box?
A rustle has me looking up, and my eyes land on Ryan, leaning against the doorframe. And I just know.
Looking back down at the cheque, I confirm that it’s the bank both Ryan and I bank at.
“I can’t take your money, Ryan.”
He stares at me for a few beats, his face giving nothing away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just…don’t lie to me. This is the money from your house, isn’t it?”
I watch as he straightens, stepping up to Nathan’s desk.
“Dance with me.”
“What?”
“Dance with me,” he repeats himself, holding out his hand. His stare is unwavering, his hand steady as he waits for my decision. I stare at it as if it’s a snake, coiled and ready to strike.
“Here?” I say, standing up and running my hands down my jeans. I’m so jumbled up that I don’t know if I want to run towards him or away.
He nods. “Yes, here. There’s space,” he motions toward the tiny space between Nathan’s desk and the wall, a space that allows for some conservative swaying at the most. “And there’s music.” Which is true. The jukebox is still doing its thing.
He holds out his hand to me again, but this time there’s a plea in his eyes.
Why does a yes feel like more than agreeing to a dance?
Blowing out a breath, I step around the desk, and his arms wind around my waist without hesitation. As if he’s scared I’ll walk towards the door instead of him. Feeling his arms around me, his body pressed against me is strange after so many months apart, and yet, it’s not. I’ve spent countless hours during our time together mapping every inch of Ryan’s body, and it’s as familiar to me as my own.
Squeezing my eyes, I try to reign in my emotions. This is the closest we’ve been since Hadley came in like a wrecking ball and completely laid waste to our relationship. A relationship I thought was infallible.
“I’m quitting the Silver Stiletto. So you can stop following me,” I say to his chest.
He hums. “My parents will be happy.”
“So, you’re living with them now?”
In answer, he nods, his cheek brushing against the top of my head.
“Why would you do that? You love your house.”
“I did. I loved it when I thought it would be a home. Our home. Where we raised our children. Grew old together. Then you left, and it stopped being a home. It became a place where I made the biggest mistakes of my life. Just a house,” he whispers, his breath rustling the hair on the top of my head. “One I can do without.”
I pull back so I can look at him. “This…this whole day was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“Fucking Carter,” he mutters. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?” I say, stepping back until his arms fall helplessly by his sides. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Because I love you.”
“I know,” I cry out in frustration, wrapping my arms around myself. “But you hurt me, Ryan. And I don’t know how to get over that.” It’s a refrain I’m getting so sick and tired of saying. Of thinking. Of feeling.
“By taking it a step at a time. Look, I know I hurt you. It’s all I think of. But it’s done, and I can’t change it.” He throws his arms to the sides, his frustration mirroring mine. “All I can do is try to make up for it. Show you that I’m better than that.”
He lets out an explosive breath, jamming his hand through his hair. “All I’m asking for is a chance. Just one. Give us a chance to start over.” His throat bobs with the force of his swallow. “If you say no, I’ll never ask again.”
I’ll never ask again.
His promise hangs in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. Is that what I want? To put Ryan in my rearview mirror? To become casual acquaintances over time? Now that I don’t have anger and rage driving me, a spear of pain skewers my heart at the thought.
“And how do you propose we start over?” I ask carefully.
His eyes light up and he takes a step towards me. “Let me court you.”
“Court me?” I ask, confused.
“Yes. Old school style.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means give me the opportunity to win back your affection and approval. We’ll take it slow; get to know each other deeply. You know, courting.”
“We’ve done all that,” I say dubiously.
“Yes, but it was rushed. This time, I’ll take the time and do it properly. The way you deserve.”
“I don’t know, Ryan.” His face falls at my sigh. “I’m not sure I’m into almost thirty-year-olds still living with their parents.”
He chuckles, but sobers quickly, his smile drying up, leaving us staring at each other in silence.
“I have missed you.”
“Is that a yes?” he asks, cautiously hopeful.
“No. But it’s not a no either. Today was just so much, and I wasn’t expecting this. I need some time to think.”
He’s nodding before I’m done talking. “I can live with that.”
“I still can’t take your money, Ryan.”
He steps up to me and tucks some hair behind my ear. “The rescue is your dream, Aspen,” he says softly. “My dream is seeing your dream come true. Please don’t ask me to take it back.” Dropping his lips against my forehead, he murmurs. “Allow me to love you in any way I can. Or,” he says, straightening and stepping back. “See it as Worker’s Compensation. You trusted your heart and your future to me, and I hurt both of them.”