Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
ASH
Danika aside, the rest of the party goes smoothly. All the chats we have are surface level, nothing deep enough to challenge our relationship.
But everyone seems happy for us, aside from Waylon, who’s still icy to me but not to Jada. Even so, it’s a little draining to be “on” for a whole afternoon. Jada drives us back home. A car trails behind us the whole time, but I don’t think much of it.
The next morning (after our now daily awkward extraction from a sleepy snuggle), I decide to go to Sarah Jane’s before heading into the bar for my hands-on training. A similar car pulls onto the main road behind me and trails me on the short drive into town.
I’m not crazy. Someone is following me.
Maybe I should have walked so I could confront them alone.
I find street parking and wait to see if the car keeps going, but it parks a few cars down. After waiting a bit, I go into the bakery, where Sarah Jane is behind the counter.
“Hey!” She rests her hands on the counter. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” A huge mirror hangs behind her, and I see the person leave the car and come in behind me. My heart rate picks up. “Can I get a coffee with cream and whatever pastry you think I’d like? I left my wallet in the car, though, so I’ll back in a second.”
“Uh, alright?”
She starts ringing me up as I dip back outside, glancing at the man. He’s probably around my age, but shorter and a bit husky. I don’t recognize him at all.
I actually did leave my wallet in the car, but I take my time digging it out. By the time I get it, the man is leaving with a coffee. He doesn’t spare me a second glance.
When I get back in, Sarah Jane is putting my pastry on a plate.
“Did you catch that guy’s name?” I ask.
“No, he paid with cash and just got a drip coffee. He asked if you come in a lot or if I’ve seen you with Jada.” She frowns. “Do you know him? Is he a crazy fan?”
“Not sure.” I wrack my brain for anyone I know who might want to follow me. The legal bullshit doesn’t have to deal with me or my character, so they can’t be searching for dirt.
Yeah, it might be a crazy fan. We’ve had a handful over the years, but they usually went after Caro or Gordon. The ones who went after me were usually women I flirted with briefly, and usually there was a paper trail or some hint on social media that they were going to cross a boundary.
And he asked about Jada, anyway. I never showed her face or posted her name, though she posted me on her social media.
Even so, there are ways for people to figure things out. But something in my gut is telling me that’s not the case. The only other person who could possibly care about us being together is Jada’s family. Could her cousin be having us followed?
It sounds insane, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Danika can’t just accuse us of being fake married to contest the will. She needs hard proof, and a private investigator can get it.
Shit.
“Do you need help? Is it a record label thing?” she asks, her voice low. “Is it a stalker fan? You can hang here if you want.”
“No, we’re good. It’s nothing. He probably just recognizes me but doesn’t know where he knows me from.” Another perk of being in the background of the band. “Thanks for this.”
“I would have given you the cousin discount.” She pokes the tablet a few times and turns it toward me.
“And I would have refused it.” I add tip, too.
I take my coffee and pastry to a seat near the window, just to keep an eye on who’s walking around, and grab my phone. Should I text Jada about the guy following me, or will that just stress her out? She’s already stressed enough, and this feels like something I should tell her in person.
I shift to my emails instead but can’t focus.
Her cousin didn’t give off the impression of someone who’s firing on all cylinders, so I’m surprised she thought to hire a PI, assuming that’s what that man is.
But it makes this way more complicated. We can’t just go about our regular lives separately, save for a few events here and there to establish ourselves.
We have to do normal married couple shit.
My main, relatively “normal” examples of what that might be are on two opposite ends of the spectrum—my parents, who seem compelled to be together even though they don’t seem to enjoy each other’s company, or Dylan’s parents, who are so sickeningly in love that going off of what they do would be an immediate red flag to most people who hadn’t actually met them.
My mind is racing through all the possibilities so quickly that my alarm to head to the bar startles me. I’ve hardly eaten my pastry and my coffee is long cold, but it’s too late to savor them now. I throw back the coffee and pastry, say bye to Sarah Jane, and walk to the bar.
Sarah Jane’s is at the edge of what’s considered downtown, not far from Jada’s, but the bar is right in the middle of it all. Tourist season is already in full swing, so I’m glad I didn’t try to find a parking spot that’s closer.
I haven’t stepped foot in the bar since Wes’s bachelor party a few years back. It doesn’t have a bad vibe, even though it’s a little touristy by nature of being owned by the family company. Wes’s pit bull mix Murphy lifts his head when I enter, barking once and wagging his tail.
“Shush, Murph,” Wes says from where he’s sitting at a table. Murphy barks again, but quieter. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I put my hand out and Murphy rushes me. The floor is wood and when he tries to slow down, he goes sliding across it, crashing into a stool. He recovers quickly and shakes it off, trotting up to me at a normal speed.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Wes says, standing.
He’s in jeans and a button-down shirt that look a bit more expensive than what he would have been wearing years ago. Tiny smile lines fan out around his eyes, too.
“What, did you think I’d bail? I need this job,” I say.
“No, I just never thought I’d be in a situation where I’m your boss.” He grins. Okay, he’s still Wes deep down. The little shit. “At least for a little while. JD said you’re doing the rounds with all the areas of the company?”
“Yep.”
“That’s pretty fair.” He says it without an ounce of surprise. Jada had mentioned he felt that way, but hearing it from his mouth feels jarring.
His relationship with JD used to be like mine was—always tense, but with the added bonus of JD being almost five years older than him. JD was always condescending and harsh on him, just like he was with me.
But Wes was always a lot more easygoing. He never seemed to take it too seriously, at least from my point of view.
Wes gives me a tour of the bar, showing me his tiny office space, the area where we receive deliveries, the place where we keep extras, and everything else I need to know.
The POS system and clocking in is easy, as is the scheduling.
Murphy follows us in areas where he’s allowed to go but lies down outside the areas where he can’t.
“Alright. You’ve made a cocktail before, right?” Wes says once we go behind the bar.
“A cocktail for a person who wants to keep their memory of that night? No,” I say. “But I was a barista for a bit. I’m sure some of those skills can transfer.”
“Shit, Ash.” Wes snorts and grabs a few glasses. “It’s not that hard, but if you pour too heavy, you’ll cut into our profit margins.”
“Cut into the profit margins? Not deal with a bunch of wasted assholes?” I lean against the bar.
“That, too. But I also want my inheritance, so don’t fuck with my profit margins.
” Wes pulls out some moonshine. I can drink a lot of strong shit, but I’ve always had a reaction to moonshine.
It’s probably all psychological. “I’ll walk you through the major drinks first. We make more moonshine margaritas than anything else. ”
He shows me how to put it together—seems simple enough. All of it is straightforward, but doing it over and over again with a lot of people might get tricky.
Still, I can do this enough to not fuck the whole thing up, which is what matters.
“I’ll put you on a shift with me first, I guess.” Wes pulls out his phone, then frowns. “Tomorrow’s trivia, though. But I guess you and Jada can ride together if she comes.”
I just nod. There’s trivia night? I haven’t seen Jada go, so maybe she hasn’t in a while. I need to ask her.
“She’s doing okay?” Wes asks after tapping around on his phone.
“Yeah. Why?”
He shrugs. “Her grandparents passing hit her hard. And then you two are married now, which is still weird as fuck to me.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I say, half to myself.
“Eventually.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Not to be a snitch, but Waylon will dismember you if this goes sideways.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know. He made that extremely clear.” I glance at the big, vintage clock on the wall. “I guess my shift is over.”
Wes watches me clock out and I leave. I nearly go on autopilot and drive to my parents’ house, but I catch myself and head back to Jada’s.
Her car isn’t in the small lot next to the building, so the apartment is quiet when I enter.
Pip hops off his cat tree and walks across the room to me.
I’ve learned that if I don’t pet him immediately, he’ll let out the most pathetic little squeaks until I do.
So I give him a quick scratch behind the ears.
He trails behind me as I go into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water.
While I’ve never hated cats, I’ve never loved them, either.
But Pip is growing on me. Maybe because he’s a little doglike with how friendly he is.
His loud purr and quiet little squeaks are cute, too.
Less so in the middle of the night when he decides to walk all over my face, but it’s not annoying enough to make me mad.
I lean against the counter and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I’ve always been a person who’s needed some background sound, usually music, but lately silence has been exactly what I need.
I’m not sure how long I stand there before I hear Jada come in. Pip trots toward the door, but I stay put.
“God, Pip, I’m so tired,” she says, heaving a sigh. “I can’t believe this day.”
Pip meows.
“Right? I really can’t believe it. At least I’m home so we can snuggle and eat. Did I even prep dinner? Ugh. I’ll probably get takeout. Again.”
She walks into the kitchen, her hand up the back of her shirt. Then, she yanks her bra out of her sleeve, her breasts falling.
Going from zoned out to extremely zoned in on her full, luscious tits wobbling in front of my face is like getting dunked into an icy pond. I can’t pretend I don’t see them—it’s like she’s filled every part of my awareness with the simple yank of a bra.
She finally notices me and freezes, her black bra in her outstretched hand.
“Uh. I didn’t know you were here,” she says, still not moving.
“Um.”
“I usually take my bra off when I get home. I think I mentioned that.”
“Uh.”
The line between my head and mouth got severed. I’ve seen a lot of tits—bare, right in my face. I’ve even signed some.
But seeing Jada’s under her T-shirt makes me want to groan. They’re just hidden enough for me to want to see more.
Finally, I turn toward the sink and I hear Jada walk past me.
“Let’s pretend that didn’t happen,” she says moments later. To my relief, she’s put on a sweatshirt, but I doubt she put the bra back on under. “Excuse me.”
I step back so she can get a cup from the drying rack. I slowly come back online, finally letting the embarrassment hit me. She has breasts. I don’t need to have a mental breakdown over them. We’ve been in more compromising positions when I wake up with my hard dick against her ass.
I need to snap back to reality.
“Someone’s following me and asked about our relationship,” I say, only because it’s the first thing I can think of that doesn’t feel like just filling the air.
“I’m sorry, what?” She puts her glass down, then her phone next to it, her eyes widening.
“Yeah.” I sip my water, too. “I thought I noticed someone following us on the drive back from the party, and the same car followed me today. The guy trailed me into Sarah Jane’s and asked about us when I went back outside for a second.
He doesn’t seem like the type to be a crazy fan and I don’t think he’d know about you, anyway.
I feel like it might be your cousin’s doing. ”
“You think Danika would send a friend to do this?” Jada frowns.
“Not a friend—maybe a private investigator. She definitely thinks that we’re faking it, but she can’t contest a will based on vibes.
She needs proof and that guy could gather it.
” I shrug. “At least that’s what feels right.
I can text Dylan and see if anyone’s been following him or asking questions. But this feels logical to me.”
Jada narrows her eyes, then looks at a spot past my head, like she’s processing.
“Oh my god.” She snaps out of it. “I’m texting her—”
“Don’t text her.” I put my hand over her phone so she can’t pick it up. “If she knows we’re onto her, she might try other ways to prove we’re lying. We just have to do couple stuff in public and let the PI go back to her with that info.”
“Fine.” Jada looks at my hand, then at my face. “So we have to go do married people stuff in public.”
She can’t mask her dread. And here I thought we were making progress toward being on the positive side of neutral, morning wood awkwardness aside.
“Yes,” I say, my tone dry. “We actually need to be fake married for the world to see.”