14. June #2
But then there’s Sophie, collapsing into my side at the end of another long day, drinking white wine from the shell-shaped bottle as I always imagined we’d do if she ever visited.
There’s Meredith’s grateful smile when I bring her a coffee to the office, her hair falling out of her perfect updo as she sorts through paperwork none of us knows how to interpret.
The Holloway sisters are back together. And there’s a heady sense of power that comes with that statement. It’s hard not to think of all the things we might accomplish.
“I think it might,” I find myself replying honestly, then clearing my throat.
“Once we get through the opening, that is. If we get a few good photos for the investors back, secure some long-term funding, and fix the teething problems, then yeah, I think it would make me happy to see it up and running again.”
Eleanor’s smile fades in the corners. “No one loved that place quite like you did.”
I swallow hard. “Will that make you happy?”
She looks away. “It was never my Shack, not really.”
“But you kept it going,” I press.
“What else could I do?”
And that one little phrase answers all of my questions. What else could I do?
“Eleanor, honey? I just got the—oh.”
We both jerk up to see Richard standing in the doorway, staring at the scene before him in evident surprise. Staring at me.
I’m on my feet a heartbeat later. “I’d better be going. It was good to see you, Mom.”
“Bye, baby.”
I don’t wait around to see the frown on Mom’s face, even though I can hear it in her voice.
The only thing I care about is leaving. Immediately.
I almost made it too, kicking my shoes back on at the door.
“You should have told me you were coming.”
I hadn’t even noticed Richard following me out.
“Don’t have your number, sorry.” I refuse to turn around to acknowledge him. The front door is only a breath away. If I could just escape this conversation quickly…
“You can’t just show up here.”
Never mind.
“It was bad enough that you made such a fool of yourself at the barbecue that we couldn’t send you home,” Richard continues, clearly intent on cornering me. Quite literally.
I turn on him then, realizing my eyes probably look a little wild with the agitation simmering just beneath the surface. “What’s your problem with me? Meredith and Sophie are the ones staying here. Don’t I get at least a little credit for staying out of your way?”
“Because at least when they left, they had the decency to stay away instead of rubbing it in your mother’s face.” Richard folds his arms across his chest—a move that I had once felt quite intimidating.
“What are you even talking about? I barely associate with either of you.”
“And yet every time she leaves this house, all anyone can talk about with her is Aiden June’s Fine Art Gallery,” Richard spits. “I know Meredith was always the smart one, but there’s no need for this attention-seeking behavior.”
“And what I should have said was ‘if I wanted attention, I’d have married someone’s widow after six months, you miserable cow.’”
Ashton watches me pace back and forth in front of the couch, a bemused expression on his face. “That would have gone down well, I think.”
“Thanks, I thought of it while I was driving back.”
He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What did you actually say?”
“I left and slammed the door in his face.”
I’m pouting, I know I am. How has a grown woman been reduced to this?
But Ashton opens his arms anyway, and I’m drawn to the gesture. Curling myself up on his lap becomes too easy at this point. But it’s not really my fault that we just fit together so naturally.
“Want me to go to your mom’s and tell him for you?” Ashton offers, his mouth brushing against my forehead as he speaks. His tone is so soothing. So, so soothing.
“No,” it comes out feebly.
He hums, and we sit quietly for a moment, curled up and content. “Probably a good idea. I’d like it if your parents had a slightly better first impression of me.”
And suddenly the contentedness slips away. “Richard is not my father.”
“I know,” Ashton says in that same soothing tone that suddenly becomes utterly irritating. “But he’s important to your mom, and if I want to have any chance of taking him down, my best move is to do it from the inside. Get him to trust me, then bam! Revenge when he least expects it.”
And suddenly, I’m laughing. All the bristles soothing down my spine, where Ashton lazily rubs at my back.
“When I still lived there,” I whisper softly so he knows I’m scheming, “I let him use my student discount to buy these huge candles from Sephora—like hundreds of dollars. Which, by the way, is a lot of money for someone who isn’t, you know, a billionaire. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I bite back a smile. “But because he used my email, I would always know when it would arrive, so I’d run out and steal it before he had a chance to pick it up.”
Ashton chuckles, and it’s so endearing.
I hope he finds my pettiness endearing, too.
I hope he finds all my worst parts lovely.
You’re driving me crazy.
“I noticed it today when I was there. The smell,” I admit after a moment. “It’s kinda gross, but Dad always used to smell sort of musty. You know, fish and sweat and fry oil. It wasn’t nice, but you got used to it.”
Ashton doesn’t prod for more, and I know that he knows all the things I don’t say.
The beach house doesn’t smell like home anymore.
Dad’s scent has been replaced by something artificial.
I should’ve never stopped stealing those candles.
“Ash?”
He hums in question.
“Am I attention seeking?”
There’s a telling pause. “Not vindictively.”
“Hey!” I smack him on the chest.
“I meant…” He exhales before tilting my chin up to face him.
“You’re not the kind of person anyone should overlook, especially not me.
But what Richard said about you was uncalled for.
You honored your dad by naming the gallery after him; if anything, Richard is selfish for making it about himself and your mother. ”
“That would have been a good comeback.”
Ashton grins that lovely grin. “Then take me with you next time.”
Please. This time. Stay.
“Yeah. I might just do that.”