Chapter 8
ASHTON
Life is like a game of Go Fish.
Do you have any kings?
Yup–here’s two.
Do you have any fucks?
Nope. Not a single one left to give.
Go fucking fish.
—Ashton’s Secret Thoughts
Ashton
Hey, Dad. I need to update you on the latest with Mom. Any chance you can meet for lunch soon?
There. I made an attempt.
Sure. It only took me six weeks to make it, but I still tried.
Dad
I’m in California for team business for the next two weeks, honey. I could try to swing by Chicago on my way home. Want to get something on the calendar for April?
Ashton
Tomorrow is April first, Dad.
Dad
Right. I’m thinking mid-month.
Ashton
Just let me know when you get back to Kroydon Hills. I’m still here. I never went back to Chicago.
Dad
You’re still in Kroydon Hills?
Ashton
Yes.
Okay. Maybe I should have reached out sooner, but the phone goes both ways.
Dad
Where are you staying?
Ashton
With Finn.
Dad
Finn Murphy?
Ashton
Yeah. I’m staying with him and Jamie.
Dad
Good. They’ll take care of you.
Ashton
I can take care of myself, Dad.
Dad
You know what I mean, honey. I’ll see you when I get home.
Ashton
Sure. See you then.
Oh . . . And by the way. Mom had another baby, drove into a tree, and was arrested for drug trafficking. PS, I’ve got custody of the baby. I love you and kinda hate you. Talk soon.
Not appropriate to send in a text message?
Alrighty then.
Guess I shouldn’t send that . . .
The accompaniment stops, and twelve little girls all look at me, wide-eyed and smiling brightly in their little pale-pink leotards and white tights while excitement vibrates through their small bodies.
“You did a wonderful job.” I clap my hands and smile at the baby ballerinas surrounding me in the studio, all sporting their best buns, bouncing on their toes, and ready to run to their parents in the waiting room outside the studio where they’re watching us through the window. “I’ll see you all next week, okay?”
They all cheer with a round of Goodbye, Miss Ashtons that warms my battered and bruised heart as I stand back, watching the mass exodus I’m coming to expect after only having taught a handful of classes.
An hour is a long time for the four-year-old crowd. But they’re pretty easy to please. At least they are, so far, thankfully.
And lucky for me, in typical Kyrie fashion, she’s already fallen in love with Annabelle because my little sister falls in love with something or someone new every day. She’s even begun to tolerate me. Although Jamie still seems to be her favorite person, so there’s still no accounting for taste.
Once I’ve got the room straightened up for the next round of classes starting later this afternoon, I make my way into the room Annabelle has dubbed the fishbowl to find my sister.
She’s been extra fussy this week, so I’m expecting to find a cranky baby, not the happy one in Belle’s arms, smiling and cooing.
But even more so, it’s the group of women fussing over her who I don’t recognize that catches my attention.
Women who all stop and stare at me as I walk into the room, making it more than obvious I was the topic of discussion.
Great. Mean girls.
I guess they’re everywhere.
These three are beautiful, making me wonder just how bad I look when they see me.
Except the sneer or look of disgust I’m expecting never comes.
There’s no judgment in their eyes. No sense of competition rolling off them in waves, and I’m forced to remind myself this isn’t an audition.
This isn’t a ballet company. I didn’t just get a role they all want.
They’re not wishing a broken ankle on me. But there’s something there.
Interest . . . or something else. Something that’s got the hair on my arms standing on edge.
I try to brush off the unsettling feeling and step next to Annabelle, then reach for Kyrie. “Thanks, Belle. How was she?”
Annabelle kisses the top of Kyrie’s soft blonde hair before sliding her into my arms. “Perfect, as always. I miss my grandbabies being this small. I need the kids to give me more.”
The women surrounding her laugh.
“I mean, either of you could feel free to add to the family baby count, ladies.” She looks between the two blondes, a beautiful smile sliding into place, challenging the women.
“Lilah’s due soon. I’m sure she’ll be happy to give you all the baby snuggles you want, Aunt Belle,” one of the blondes says with a cheeky smile.
“I’m counting down the days,” Belle teases. “I’ve got some bookkeeping to do in the back. I’ll catch up with you later, ladies.”
The slightly taller of the two women turns my way. “Hi. I’m Dillan, and this is Lexie. You must be Ashton.”
Aunt Belle . . .
It only takes me a moment to place their names. If Annabelle is their aunt, that makes these women Finn and Jamie’s cousins. Now that makes sense.
“Hi.” I adjust my hold on Kyrie, who’s decided to yank on my sweater. “I’m Ashton, and you seem to have met, Kyrie. I’m guessing you’re Finn and Jamie’s cousins.”
“Oh, we’ve met, haven’t we, sweet girl?” Lexie coos at my sister as she drags a finger down her nose. “She’s such a cutie. Jamie told us all about her.”
“He what?” I question, more than a little surprised.
“At book club last week,” Dillan adds, shocking me.
“I’m sorry, did you say book club?” Seriously . . . did I hear her wrong?
Jamie Murphy at a book club?
“Yup.” Lexie laughs, looking at her cousin. “Dillan owns the romance bookstore a few shops down from here, and we got the guys into a book club with us a few months ago. You should come to the next meeting.”
“I’m sorry. I swear I’m usually not this dense, but you have Jamie Murphy in a romance book club? Willingly?” I want to say there’s no way, but these women nod, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is that code for something else?”
“I mean, we do typically meet at West End for drinks and dinner when we get together for it, but nope. No code. We really do talk about whatever we’re reading,” Dillan assures me, and I want to shake the cobwebs from my head to make sure I’m hearing her right, but I don’t want to insult Finn’s cousins.
“You should come next time. It’s a lot of fun and a great excuse to get out of the house and away from work once a week or so. ”
I kiss the top of Kyrie’s head. “West End is that bar down the street, right?” The women nod. “I’m not so sure that’s the best place for Kyrie, and I don’t exactly have babysitters at my disposal. But thanks for the invite.”
I’m also not the greatest at making new friends, but I leave that little nugget off.
“Don’t worry about that, Ashton,” Lexie beams. “That’s why we’re going to bring book club to you.”
“Um . . . what?” I squeak and want to crawl in a hole at my complete lack of any kind of cool factor.
“Don’t you know?” Dillan props her hand on her hip. “We’re going to be your new best friends.”
Oh. Hell. No.
“Finn. Honestly. Your cousins are a little scary. I haven’t had real girlfriends in like, ten years,” or maybe ever, I rant to him over the phone, once I’m back home and pacing around the house with Kyrie on my hip, trying to calm her down.
Why is six o’clock the freaking witching hour for this kid?
“I felt like I was in that Stepbrothers movie you love. They basically informed me we were going to be best friends, and that they were bringing book club to me, and they want me to meet them for brunch tomorrow. I don’t do brunch.”
I don’t think I’ve ever done brunch.
“Ashton,” he stops me when I finally take a breath. “Slow down. My cousins are great. I bet you’ll actually like them, if you give them a chance. You should meet them for brunch.”
“Why would they even want me to go? They don’t know me.” My mind flies in a million directions, none of them with good outcomes.
“Because they’re good people who know what it’s like to be put in less than ideal situations. Or maybe because they’re both strong women who were raised by strong women and who know when a good person needs a little kindness, you offer it.”
“Finnegan Murphy—I swear to God, if you told your cousins to—”
“I didn’t,” he assures me. “They know you’re living here.
They know you’ve taken custody of Kyrie.
My family is a big old bunch of gossip whores, so whatever else they know, I have no control over.
But the girls are awesome. Go to brunch.
Make some friends. If I wasn’t going to be at the hospital, I’d crash your date and go with you guys. ”
“I’m not good at girlfriends,” I admit sheepishly.
“I’m not so sure they are either.” The background noise gets louder, and I hear an announcement over the hospital’s PA system. “I’ll bet if you ask Jamie or Ryker, one of them would watch Kyrie for you.”
“No,” I snap, unwilling to have this fight with him again “I can bring her with me.”
“That’s my girl. Yank those big panties up and go on a girl date,” he tells me, and I swear if he were standing here, I’d shove him.
“A—my panties are not big. You’re supposed to say big girl panties, not big panties, you moron. And B—it’s not a date, it’s brunch. You might be the book-smart one, Finn, but your social skills are seriously lacking.”
“You still love me,” he claps back, and I don’t need to be standing in front of him to know he’s smiling when he says it. “Kiss Kyrie for me. I’ll see you later.”
“Finnegan . . .” I whisper.
“Yeah, Ash?”
“Thanks for telling your cousins to stop by.” I hate knowing I’m so damn needy, but it was a really nice thing for him to do.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t.”
“Whatever you say.” I smile and end the call.