Chapter 60 We’ve Been Through… A Lot
WE’VE BEEN THROUGH… A LOT
ASHLEY
Plates are stacked. Counters wiped down. The dishwasher hums a steady rhythm in the kitchen, a familiar chord of normalcy that slows us all down after a long, emotional day.
The lights are dim in the living room, soft and golden. A candle flickers on the coffee table, throwing slow-moving shadows against the walls.
I sink deeper into the cushions, legs curled under me, a half-full glass of wine in my hand.
Beckett’s thigh rests against mine, warm and solid.
Luna’s stretched out on the rug, her legs draped over Noah’s lap.
Mom and Babs are in matching recliners, both looking far too comfortable to move, both sipping their own cups of decaf.
We’re all here, just letting things settle.
After a call with Agent Sugarbaker earlier, the plan is officially in place: we move forward with the story that Beckett was one of several financial advisors who flipped at the last minute to help the investigation.
Limited involvement. Clean enough to talk about, vague enough to keep him protected.
It’s not a lie—but it’s not the whole truth either.
Just enough to take the pressure off, to keep a target off Beckett’s back.
To give us some version of peace.
The headlines are everywhere—anonymous whistleblower, insider informant, and even a few comparisons to Deep Throat. But there’s no name, no photo. The FBI’s press release keeps it simple: coordinated efforts between federal agencies, thanks to diligent investigation.
That’s how it needs to stay.
At first, I was concerned about the kids knowing—about what Mom and Luna had told them while I was away. But…
After everything we went through last year—the confusion, the long absences, the tension—I believe in my heart that it’s important for them to know the truth. Something to take the sting out of what happened at the port back in Los Angeles.
I don’t want them to be afraid, and I want them to know that both Beckett and I trust them. Because we do.
We’re a family, and that trust goes both ways now.
They went down easy tonight—tired from the day, from the sugar, from too much screen time and the relief of seeing their dad again. Blakey had Beckett check under the bed twice. Max wanted the hall light on. We did both. No arguments. Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it.
Now, I’m just… enjoying this moment. The comfort of being surrounded by people who love and support us. It’s like a giant hug. No one’s rushing. Everything's out in the open.
And we made it through.
Mom sets her coffee on the side table and glances at Babs. “We probably ought to be getting home soon, right?”
Babs lets out a sigh but nods. “Yeah, yeah. I suppose.”
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Noah asks, reaching for his keys.
Mom waves him off. “We’re only a few miles away. We’ll be fine.”
She stands and then leans over to kiss my cheek. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.”
I nod, the lump in my throat too thick to answer properly. But I believe her.
We’re going to be okay.
After Mom and Babs are gone, Noah leans back into the couch, stretches an arm behind Luna. “So,” he says casually, “how would you feel about Paris in the morning?”
Beckett slaps his forehead. “Oh, hell. You two are supposed to be on your honeymoon.” His face twists with guilt, and I can see the weight of everything pressing down again. He still blames himself.
I’m going to have to work on that—remind him he didn’t cause the storm. He got caught in it. And in the end, he did the right thing.
Luna sees it too. “Hey,” she says. “You’d do the same for us.” And then she slides her hand into Noah’s. “And we’re not about to pass up quality time with our favorite nephews, right?”
“You mean your only nephews?” I say.
“For now. Are you sure you don’t have an extra little bun in your oven…?”
I just roll my eyes at her teasing, not really bothered about it.
Because that—the cruise, the pretending… it feels so long ago! And yet this time last week, we were floating around on the Pacific Ocean.
But then she sobers a little. “We can stick around here longer. If you need anything, Ash, I mean it.”
I glance at Beckett, only to find he’s already watching me. Your decision, that look says.
I don’t want to think about the last time it was just me and Beckett and the twins in this house. We’ve started rebuilding something new since then, but it still feels… fragile. Like this sandcastle we’ve built could still be swept out to sea.
But as long as we’re together, we can always build another one.
I reach across the space between us and take his hand. “I have everything I need right here.”
Luna studies me for a beat. Then her face brightens. “Well then… Paris in the morning sounds like an excellent idea.”
Noah grins and pulls her to her feet. “Which means you and I should get some sleep. Flight leaves at six, which puts our alarm at… painful o’clock.”
They’re crashing in the guest room again and insisting we don’t need to wake up early to see them off. So we say our goodbyes now—tight hugs along with promises to call when they land.
And then, for the first time in weeks—months maybe—Beckett and I are alone in our living room. In the quiet.
Together.
Just… home.
I start gathering empty glasses from the coffee table. Beckett grabs the mugs and empty wine bottle and follows me into the kitchen.
But when I reach for the faucet, he stops me with a light touch to my wrist.
“Leave them,” he says, voice low.
I turn toward him, and his hands settle at my waist before lifting me easily onto the center island. He moves close, standing between my legs.
In the dark window behind him, I catch a glimpse of my reflection, and let out a little groan. I’m still wearing my old jeans and his hoodie, and my hair, which I’d tied up without looking in a mirror, resembles all the chaos of this day.
“Oh ship, Beckett. I look like a homeless person.”
Before I can reach up to fix it, Beckett’s already there—gently pulling the tie from my hair, letting it fall loose around my shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
His gaze locks with mine, and the emotions I see feel like mirrors to my own—raw, reverent, a little wrecked.
Gratitude.
Relief.
Love, unguarded.
I reach my fingertips up and curl my hand around his cheek, loving the almost sandpaper feel of his jaw. Because… He’s here. He’s mine.
And I know he’s not talking about the way I look.
He’s talking about this.
About us.
I lean in, and that’s all it takes.
His mouth finds mine—soft, familiar. And there’s no rush. Not tonight.
When we finally pull back, my hands slide up to his shoulders, steadying us both. I keep them there, thumbs pressing lightly, grounding.
“It’s over,” I say quietly. “I know that.”
Then, it needs to be said. “You’ve been through… a lot.”
Something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t deflect. He just nods, like he understands exactly what I mean.
“So have you,” he says.
And he’s right. The past year, it’s left scars. Maybe not the kind you can see—but they’re there.
“We’ve got some work ahead of us.” I exhale a small, honest laugh.
“Yeah,” he admits. “I got us off track. And I want you to know, that’s never gonna happen again. I realize it’s gonna take time, to… heal. For me to—”
I touch a fingertip to his mouth. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And I know I… I can become a little… preoccupied with having things a certain way. And… I’m so sorry if my—if my expectations made you feel—”
“Oh, Ashley. Babe. You have never—never. It was me.”
“No, it wasn’t just you. Both of us could’ve done more for each other. But… We’ve both learned how much we have to lose and how awful that feels. And… I think we can be better.
“We can.” Beckett nods.
And suddenly, even though, yeah, there’s work to be done, I just want to be present. With my husband, with this incredible man that I almost let go.
So I lift my chin. Tip my head just a little.
And let my mouth curve.
“Speaking of getting better,” I murmur, “I’ve been thinking about your… piercing.”
His brow arches.
“Only 172 days left until you’re… seaworthy again.”
That earns me a flash of that familiar, cocky look—the one I fell for a lifetime ago.
“Hey,” he says, a little growly. A lot sexy. “It’s been proven that regardless of the… temporary condition of my… stern, I’m more than capable of sailing the high seas.”
I laugh—really laugh—the sound easing something tight in my chest.
He leans in again, kisses me once more. Lighter this time.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says against my mouth.
And I know we will.
Because this—this choosing each other, even when it’s hard—
It feels like a brand new happily-ever-after.
He sweeps me into his arms. “And,” he murmurs, eyes dancing, “I’m thinking we could do a little… cruising tonight.”
“We are so corny.”
An old married couple.
I smile and curl closer. Because that’s just what I want us to be.
Well, someday.
For now, I’m happy to just be us.
Mom and Dad. Ashley and Beckett. In love. Happy.
Together.
And yeah, right now… a little corny.