Chapter 13 Ashton #2
“Ashton . . .” Lexie steps in front of me. “Focus and tell us what the hell you’re talking about because you sound a little . . .”
“Less than stable,” Dillan fills in. “Although I love that us being bitchy makes you happy. It makes me pretty happy most days too.”
“True story,” Lexie smirks.
I look around the blessedly empty bakery, then back at the two women.
This is so bad . . . “I kissed Jamie this morning.”
Dillan’s grin is more than a little evil and not at all what I expected. “Well it’s about fucking time.”
“Really?” Lexie asks. “I figured we had at least another month before they gave in.”
“What?” I screech. And yes, I actually screech.
It’s a horrible sound and sadly not the worst one I’ve made today.
My stomach flips at the thought, but not in the I’m going to actually puke kind of way, which is a giant relief.
More like the I’m so humiliated I want to crawl into a hole and hide forever kind of way.
Like a damn—wait . . . What’s the bird that buries its head in a hole . . . ? An ostrich?
That would be a really big hole.
No. . . Wait. A flamingo?
“Homeboy has it bad,” Dillan announces, then smiles at Kyrie clapping her hands together. “No way was he waiting another month,” she sing songs to the baby, like that makes it sound better.
“Not a flamingo,” I murmur, pretty sure I was right the first time. Time to dig a big-ass fucking hole. “An ostrich. That’s it.”
“What?” Lexie asks, leaning closer to try to decipher my rambling.
She shrugs when she gives up and leans her hip against the counter, breaking off a piece of sample cookie and offering it to me.
When I shake my head, she pops it into her own mouth.
“I don’t see what’s wrong—Unless . . . Wait.
. .” She cringes. “Was it bad? I mean, I figured it’s Jamie. He’s got to be a good kisser, right?”
Did she just—
Dillan and I stare at her, thoroughly confused, as a self-conscious blush creeps up her face. “You two are gross. I did not think about kissing my cousin. I meant because he’s . . .”—she purses her lips and eyes me hesitantly—“never mind.”
“You meant because he’s a bit of a manwhore,” Dillan fills in the blank, and Lexie nods.
“Wrong cousin, Lex. Jamie may have let us all tease him, but I’m pretty sure he’s way less whore-y than we thought. I’m not sure who’s actually worse, your brothers or mine.”
“I mean, Noah is a rock star. That’s got to be a whole different level of whore—"
“Oh my God. Could we please stop saying whore?” I snap, and both women stare at me.
Maybe that was a little louder than I planned.
“No, Lex, he’s not a bad kisser. He’s actually a great kisser.
” I close my eyes and immediately feel his lips on mine and start daydreaming about that damn hole again.
How long could I live there? “Like really great.”
Lexie makes some kind of happy clapping noise, and my eyes fly open.
I hope this girl was a cheerleader in high school because she definitely seems like the eternally optimistic one of the bunch.
“So what’s the problem?” Dillan digs, and I start to wonder if this girlfriend thing is overrated.
“Come on, Ashton. What happened? He’s a good kisser and not nearly the man—” She stops herself from saying it again and cocks a brow.
“Not nearly as free with his kissing as we thought. So why are you freaking the fuck out?”
Right. Because that’s why I’m here.
To talk about this.
Friends talk about this kind of thing.
Friends share traumas, and this absolutely falls into the category of trauma.
I thought I’d had all the therapy I could possibly need in my life already, but after today, I think I may need more.
Fuck it.
“I puked,” I announce, and both women stare at me like they already knew that. Damn it. “You’re really going to make me say this,” I murmur and take a deep breath. Rip the Band-Aid off, Ashton. “I puked. . . on Jamie.”
“What?” both women exclaim, and that hole can go ahead and open up any time now . . .
“Yeah, we’re going to need more details than that,” Dillan tells me, looking from me to Lexie as if she’s thoroughly enjoying this. “Start from the beginning. And go slow.”
It doesn’t take long to fill them in on last night and this morning. Even if I do fight an internal war over whether or not to tell them everything. As in Valentine’s Day too. But for now, I keep it to the last twenty-four hours. Baby steps and all.
Once I stop, Lexie rounds the counter and wraps an arm around my shoulders.
Dillan does the same, essentially forming some kind of human hug.
I’m not a hugger.
Hell, I’m not much of a toucher.
I blame my parents, but I might just be lacking that gene.
Either way, these women hold me like they’re giving me strength through osmosis. And I take it because I haven’t had this kind of support from anyone besides Finn in a really long time, and it feels vital.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I all but growl in fiery frustration. “I swear to God I never cry, and it’s like I can’t stop lately.”
“Ashton . . .” Lexie softens her voice as she looks at me cautiously, like she’s scared I’ll break or maybe snap. “Are you sure there’s no way you’re pregnant?”
“Thank God you said it because I really didn’t want to have to,” Dillan adds, and my head all but blows the fuck up in an explosion that rivals an atom bomb.
“I’m not pregnant. You’d have to be having sex to be pregnant, and I’ve had sex once in legitimately the past eighteen months.
” I think about that for a second, then it’s like I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.
“Well, more like one night—many, many, many times. Lots of sex. But we used lots of condoms.”
“When?” Dillan stops me.
“When what?” I answer, not sure where she’s going. “Like what time? I don’t know. It was late. Or early really, depending on how you look at it. I’m not sure what time—”
“Ashton. Focus. When did you have sex? Not what time, sweetie.” She rolls her eyes and switches Kyrie to her other hip. “Was it in the past nine months?”
Lexie snorts. “Pretty sure she’s not nine months pregnant, Dillan. It’s not like she’s showing.”
Oh fuck.
I start counting back in my head.
Valentine’s Day was the second week in February.
I look at the Cinco de Mayo cupcakes in the display case and cringe.
“Oh shit,” Dillan blurts out.
“I can’t do this. I’ve got a class to teach. I cannot be pregnant right now.” I reach for Kyrie, but Dillan angles herself away.
“You’re right. You don’t need to deal with this now. How about you leave the diaper bag and Kyrie with me, and I’ll bring her to you after your class?”
“Dillan, I can’t ask you—”
“You didn’t ask. I offered. Kaleigh’s at the shop today, and I’m just going to be working on inventory. I can do that with this little cutie. Let me have some fun with my newest honorary niece. Please?”
Lexie runs a hand over Kyrie’s head. “And I’ve got your back if you need anything.”
Dillan nods, then looks back at me. “It’s an hour or two tops, Ash. Give yourself a break and go teach the baby ballerinas. We’ll reconvene after, and if you still need to freak the fuck out, we’ll deal with it then.”
“Why does that sound a little evil?” I ask, surprised I’m strangely okay with this. The Dillan keeping Kyrie thing. Not the other thing.
She smiles. “Because I am a little evil. Now go.”
I kiss Kyrie on the top of her sweet lavender-scented head, refusing to cry. I’m just getting the hang of one baby. I absolutely positively cannot have another one. “Love you, little miss. Be good for Dillan, okay?”
Kyrie smacks my cheeks between her pudgy palms, babbling, and I slide the diaper bag onto Dillan’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
And an hour later, when Lexie and Dillan walk into the studio with a brown paper pharmacy bag in Lexie’s hand and my sister in Dillan’s arms, I have no doubt what’s inside and what I have to do.
Fucking Valentine’s Day.