Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ashley
I stood in the kitchen, stirring the pot of chili on the stove, the spicy smell filling the air.
Troy’s friends were sprawled across our little living room, their voices loud over the hum of the TV.
It was Saturday night, and he’d invited the usual crew over, Jake, Matt, and Chris, for what he called a “chill hangout.” I didn’t mind.
I liked cooking for a crowd, and it gave me something to do while they yelled about football stats.
“Babe, you need help in there?” Troy called from the couch, his head poking up over the backrest.
“Nope, I’m good,” I said, grabbing a stack of bowls from the cabinet. “You guys just stay put. Food’s almost ready.”
Jake laughed, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Man, Troy, you hit the jackpot. She cooks, she’s hot, she’s chill. Future wife material right there.”
I snorted, carrying the pot over to the counter. “Future wife? We’re already engaged, Jake. Keep up.”
“Even better,” Matt said, leaning over to snag a beer from the cooler. “Troy’s locked it down. Ashley, you’re gonna be the kind of wife who’s got dinner ready when he walks in, right? Perfect setup.”
I set the chili down and started ladling it into bowls. “Yeah, sure, if he’s lucky. Pass me those chips, Chris.”
Chris tossed me the bag of tortilla chips, grinning. “Seriously, though, you’re too good at this. What’s gonna happen when you’re a flight attendant? No more home-cooked meals. Troy’s gonna starve.”
“Nah, I’ll figure it out,” Troy said, getting up to help me carry the bowls over. “She’ll be too busy flirting with pilots to cook anyway.”
I elbowed him, laughing. “Excuse me? I’m not flirting with anybody. I’m gonna be the one bossing the pilots around.”
“Good luck with that,” Jake said, taking a bowl from Troy. “Those guys are cocky. You’ll be running around with coffee and snacks, not giving orders.”
“Shows what you know,” I said, handing Matt his food. “We’re trained to handle emergencies, not just pour drinks. I could evacuate a plane faster than you’d get off that couch.”
Matt chuckled, digging into the chili. “Okay, fair. But still, this domestic vibe? It’s gold. Why mess with it? Stay home, keep Troy fed. He’s got a decent job.”
“Yeah,” Chris added, nodding. “Flight attendant life’s all weird hours and jet lag. You won’t have time to play house like this. Shame to ditch it.”
I plopped onto the armrest of the couch, grabbing my own bowl. “You guys act like I’m quitting forever. It’s just a job. I’ll still cook when I’m around.”
“Not the same,” Jake said, smirking. “You’ll be off in Paris or wherever, leaving Troy with takeout. Poor guy.”
“Poor guy?” Troy said, sitting back down next to me. “I can survive. Besides, she’s gotta live her dream, right? Fly around, see the world.”
“See, he gets it,” I said, pointing my spoon at him. “You all need to chill with the wife comments. I’m not turning into a Stepford robot.”
They laughed, and the conversation shifted back to the game on TV, some play they couldn’t agree on.
I ate my chili, listening to them bicker, their side comments still bouncing around in my head.
It was funny, mostly, how they pictured me as this perfect little homemaker.
I didn’t take it too seriously. They were just messing around, and I could roll with it.
After a couple of hours, the guys started packing up. Jake clapped Troy on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Good night, man. Ashley, keep that chili recipe. You’re a keeper.”
“Night, Jake,” I said, waving from the kitchen where I was stacking dishes. “Glad you liked it.”
Matt and Chris followed, tossing out more compliments about the food and a few more jabs about my future flight attendant life. I just grinned and told them to get home safe. The door clicked shut behind them, and the house went quiet, just the clinking of plates as I rinsed them in the sink.
Troy wandered over, leaning against the counter. “That went well. They’re still obsessed with your cooking.”
“Yeah, they’re easy to please,” I said, scrubbing a pot. “Chili and beer, and they’re your fans for life.”
He watched me for a second, then said, “You know, they’re not wrong. You’re good at this stuff. Taking care of people.”
I glanced at him, smiling. “Thanks. It’s not hard when it’s you guys.”
He nodded, but his expression shifted, like he was working up to something. “Maybe they’ve got a point, though. About the flight attendant thing.”
I stopped scrubbing, looking at him. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “Just thinking out loud. You’re so good here, with me, with the house. Maybe you don’t need to work. I could take care of us. You could stay home, do what you’re already great at.”
I set the pot down, drying my hands on a towel. “Troy, we’ve talked about this. I want to do the flight attendant gig. It’s not about needing to work. I just want to.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said, crossing his arms. “But it’s gonna change everything. You’ll be gone half the time, and I’ll be here, eating leftovers. Is that really what you want?”
I frowned, tossing the towel onto the counter. “You’re making it sound like I’m abandoning you. It’s a job, not a divorce. I’ll still be here when I’m not flying.”
“It’s not the same, Ash,” he said, his voice getting a little sharper. “You heard them. Weird hours, jet lag. You won’t have time for us. For this.”
I stared at him, my stomach tightening. “So what, you want me to just drop it? Stay home and cook chili forever? That’s not me, Troy. You know that.”
“I’m not saying you have to,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying you could. I make enough. You don’t need to run yourself ragged out there.”
“I’m not doing it for the money,” I said, stepping closer. “I want to see places, meet people. I’ve been stuck in this town my whole life. You were the one who said I should live my dream, remember?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I did. But now I’m thinking about what it’ll be like. Me here, you gone. It’s not as easy as it sounds.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy,” I said, my voice rising a little. “It’s supposed to be worth it. You’re acting like I’m picking the job over you.”
“Aren’t you, though?” he shot back. “You’re choosing to leave when you don’t have to.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to guilt me into staying home because your buddies think I’m wife material.”
“I’m not guilt-tripping you,” he said, but his jaw was tight. “I’m just saying what I think. Maybe I don’t want you gone all the time. Maybe I like having you here.”
“Well, I like being here,” I said, crossing my arms. “But I also like having something for myself. You don’t get to decide that for me.”
He looked away, staring at the floor, and the silence stretched out. I could hear the fridge humming, the faint tick of the clock on the wall. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. We’d been fine, laughing with his friends, and now it felt like we were on opposite sides of something.
“Troy,” I said, softening my tone. “I’m not trying to fight with you. I just don’t want you thinking I’m less yours because I want this.”
He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. “I don’t think that. I just don’t want to lose what we’ve got.”
“You’re not losing anything,” I said, stepping closer. “I’m still me. Still your fiancée. I’ll just be me with a uniform and a suitcase sometimes.”
He didn’t say anything for a second, then let out a small laugh. “A suitcase, huh? Guess I’ll have to get used to that.”
“Yeah, you will,” I said, smiling a little. “And you’ll be fine. You’re tougher than you look.”
“Debatable,” he said, but the tension in his shoulders eased. He reached out, tugging me toward him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it a thing.”
“It’s okay,” I said, letting him pull me in. “Just don’t listen to Jake too much. He’s got dumb ideas.”
“Noted,” he said, his hands settling on my waist. “You’re still the boss.”
“Damn right,” I said, then leaned up and kissed him, quick and firm. His lips were warm, and he kissed me back, the fight fading out of us. I pulled away, resting my forehead against his. “Let’s just go to bed, okay? We can figure this out later.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Sleep sounds good.”
I took his hand, flipping off the kitchen light as we headed down the hall. The house was quiet again, and whatever was left unsaid could wait. For now, we were still us.