30. Ashton
ASHTON
I walk into Wren’s, and Churro greets us at the door. He bounces around Teddy, barking happily. The fosters clumsily follow behind me, curious but timid about the feisty Chihuahua.
Wren pops out of her bedroom. “I am so, so sorry. I know I should have asked you first, but I saw the clip when I left this morning for a session with my trainer. You were still asleep. From experience, it’s best to get in front of these crap-storms before things get twisted out of context.
” She clutches both my hands. “Can you forgive me?”
While my emotions are still tumultuous—mostly directed at Griffin at the moment—I know Wren’s intentions were pure. “It’s fine. But you owe me.”
“Yes! Absolutely. Anything. Name it.” She clasps her hands together, begging.
I decided last night to ignore my doubts that this friendship between Wren and me is anything like my childhood, where people only got close to me to gain something.
“Will you serve on my rescue’s board?”
She squeals. “Are you kidding? I’d love to!” She jumps up and down.
Relief courses through my veins as she hugs me. It feels incredibly nice to have so many people in my corner. I didn’t realize how much I needed them. Maybe that’s what has been holding me back.
I school my face into a serious expression. “And one more thing.”
She stops hopping. “What?”
“Can we have a girls’ night?”
“How is that even a question? Absolutely, we can! Let me take care of everything.” She squeezes me in a tight hug and then zips into the living room, retrieving her phone.
Before I know it, she’s ordered Mexican food to be delivered and turns on her TV to prep for a chick flick search, saying, “Is it even a girl’s night without vegging out on Mexican food and a chick flick?”
After the food arrives, she turns on the blender, talking over the roaring. “Oh my gosh, you have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve had a girl’s night.”
I mumble under my breath, “Probably not as long as it’s been for me.”
Satisfied with her blending, she shuts it off and begins pouring our margaritas.
“Okay, how about you start by telling me how last night went? I didn’t get home until midnight, and you still weren’t here!
So, spill! But first, tell me what you think of this?
” She slides a frozen margarita glass across the counter.
I take a sip. “It’s tart, but delicious. Though, I’m going to need some queso and chips in my system before I get too carried away on this.”
Wren lifts up on her tiptoes and peeks over my shoulder. Teddy, the pups, and Churro are running madly around the living room. I brought the puppies over, wanting to avoid Griffin as much as possible.
They’ll wear themselves out in no time.
She brings her focus back to me, studying me for a minute, tilting her head. “I have to say, for someone who spent half the night out with a gorgeous man, you’re not quite glowing like I’d expected you to be.” She sips her drink, waiting for my response.
“Griffin’s dad came over earlier. He said some harsh things.” I take a big gulp of my drink.
“Wait. Let’s dig into the food first.” She ushers me to her informal dining room where we set out all the Mexican food. She digs into the containers and withdraws the most gigantic tub of queso I’ve ever seen.
My eyes bulge at its size. “We’ll be constipated for a week if we consume all that.”
“But it’ll be worth it.” She laughs, licking a dollop of queso from her finger and looks at me. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this stuff. This queso is like Pringles. Once you pop—you can’t stop. It’s literal heaven on earth.”
I chuckle. “Are you supposed to eat that stuff? I figured you’d be on some kind of specific diet.” At the very least, isn’t dairy bad for your vocal cords?
“Oh girl, I can’t eat this stuff while I’m on tour, but I love it. I’m savoring all the foods I won’t be able to eat once I leave on tour for almost three long months.”
She scoops a giant blob of queso on her chip and cheers me in the air before shoving the whole thing in her mouth.
Between chews, she says, “I’m ready. Tell me about Griffin’s dad.”
I tell her the gist of what he said.
She dutifully responds with the occasional gasp or “ No, he didn’t .”
I appreciate the feminine support. It makes me feel a little less childish for how I took his comments.
I grew up with money for most of my life.
It wasn’t until my adulthood that I experienced near-poverty.
I’m not ashamed of it. I made personal decisions to live a particular lifestyle.
But the way he treated me was like I’m downright trash.
He doesn’t even know me, but already he assumes I’m not good enough for his son.
It hurt. Then again, he just reacted how most of the public perceived me in the video Wren tagged us in—an interloper in Griffin’s relationship with Scarlet.
Wren reaches across the table and places her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. Even if his dad feels that way, I’m sure Griffin doesn’t.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Griffin not defending me sure felt like he agreed with his father.” I shovel a gigantic chip into my mouth and gesture toward outside. “And now, he’s out there…with her…having some hot date. No doubt making out. Who cares if it’s fake if her lips get to touch his?”
Okay, so maybe the margaritas are a bit strong and loosening my tongue too much.
“No. No. Trust me, he won’t be kissing her tonight. Maybe a polite peck on the cheek for photo purposes. That’s it.” She swats the air. “Griffin was just having an idiot boy moment. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses and make it up to you. Just wait.”
I hope she’s right, but it doesn’t stop the nerves from churning in my stomach over him going out with Scarlet again. They may’ve had a conversation about keeping things friendly, but women in love can go to great lengths for the one they care about.
Wren snaps her fingers in my face. “Hey, hey. Girls’ night, remember? We’re supposed to be having fun.” She perks in her chair. “I know! Let’s do facials and watch Austenland. Have you seen it? It’s hilarious and always cheers me up.”
Her face lights with such joy there’s no way I can deny her. Besides, I could use the distraction. “Sounds good.”
She grabs the queso and a bowl of chips and ushers me to the living room couch. “Grab your drink!” Her face is beaming as she clicks on the movie. The dogs come to settle around us on the couch.
A little over an hour and a half later, the movie credits roll across the screen.
Wren smiles from ear to ear—which is an incredible feat considering we both have facial masks globbed on our faces, now dried like caked green mud.
“Wouldn’t that be so fun to dress up like you’re living in a Jane Austen novel in real life? ”
“I don’t know. I sort of like indoor plumbing and not wearing stays under my clothes.”
She giggles. “Oh, but those dresses were divine. Sometimes I wish I was an actress instead of a singer so I could have the chance to wear fabulous costumes like those.”
An idea pops into my mind. “Maybe you could have an opportunity to wear a dress like that.”
Her eyes widen, the greenish goop making her look like a ghoul. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the gala needs a theme. What if we themed it something within the Regency Era?”
She claps and bounces on the couch. “Oh my gosh, I love that idea. You could call it…Puppy Palace? Or, or Barkingham Palace?”
I laugh. “Those are creative.”
She gasps. “I’ve got it! What about, ‘The Royal Rescue?’” She runs her hand overhead as if a sign is glowing there.
“I love it.” I beam at her. “That’s perfect.”
“This is gonna be so much fun! I can’t wait to pick a dress!” She grabs her phone and immediately goes to google dress ideas.
Another idea surfaces. “There’s absolutely no pressure here—and it’s totally okay to say no, but would you be interested in singing for the event? I know it’s not your typical?—”
She smiles wide. “I’d absolutely love to!”
The dogs perk up at her excitement and leap into playful wrestle. Wren and I laugh and join them on the floor, playing until the doorbell rings. The dogs’ barking turns into a frenzy.
I look toward her entryway. “Any idea who that is?”
She picks up her phone, checks her security system, and the camera footage of the porch. “It’s Griffin.”
“Why is he here?”
She smirks. “Pretty sure he’s not here to see me.” She pulls me off the floor and shoves me toward the door. “Go, go. But make the man work to get into your good graces again.”
I open the door.
Griffin’s hands are shoved in his front pockets. “Hi, sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting…” He looks deliciously handsome in his grey slacks and blue button-down shirt, but his baffled expression brings me to realize I completely forgot my face is still covered in green goop.
I slap my hands over my face and try to close the door with my elbow, but Teddy pokes his nose out, forcing the door back open. “No! Wait.” It’s not a proper command and Teddy slips out.
With his tail wagging, Griffin bends to pet him. “Hey, buddy.”
While he’s distracted, I ease back into the darkness of the hallway. “I’ll be right back!”
“Okay,” Griffin says, confusion and worry in his tone.
I hurry to the bathroom, grab a wash rag, and begin scrubbing.
Wren pops her head in. “That was fast. What happened?”
“I couldn’t talk to him like this!” My face transforms from green to ripe red as I rub off the dried substance.
She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “You’re right. Make him wait. Sweat it out a little.”
That wasn’t my intention, but maybe she’s right. I shouldn’t appear too eager to forgive his rudeness earlier. Though, every cell in my body craves to see him.
After at least two minutes of solid scrubbing, there’s still some small remnants of green here and there. Hopefully he won’t notice in the dim lighting.