One-Sided Crush
Jordy
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I’d holed up in my bedroom all evening, not wanting to intrude on Ashton’s time with Lottie because … well, because I know when I’m not wanted. It was apparent by the cold shoulder Ashton gave me this evening.
I’m not sure what I did or didn’t do for him to act so distant.
Or maybe I’m reading too much into all of this.
I don’t know. I feel like a crazy woman trying to make sense of the senseless.
Everything in me is screaming to tell him how I feel about him.
Well, almost everything. My sensible side keeps reminding me that my time here is running out, and starting something with Ashton will only cause heartache for the both of us.
For all three of us, really. There’s Lottie to think about too.
Ashton is already asleep on the couch when I venture out of the room to brush my teeth.
I can hear the soft hum of his breathing, and it makes my heart ache a little more.
I pause, listening to him for just a moment as a form of self-torture.
But that’s when my stomach noisily reminds me that I haven’t eaten dinner yet.
I make a detour to the kitchen to peek in the fridge. Score. A bowl of leftover mac and cheese sits on the top shelf, almost like he’d been saving it for me. I nab it, not even bothering to warm the bowl so I won’t wake Ashton. Then I sit quietly in the dark, eating the cold noodles.
Talking with my mom earlier today has triggered my food issues. I can just hear her voice telling me to stop stuffing myself, how no guy wants to marry a woman who bloats. But goddamn, even cold, this mac and cheese hits the spot. Bloat be damned.
I think back to my conversation with my mom. In her downtime—which is often since she doesn’t work, clean, or do anything beyond Pilates on Tuesday nights—she Googled my boss and then immediately called me.
“Why can’t you land a guy like this? He’s not only rich as sin, he’s a babe. Any company policies against dating him?”
Stupidly, I told her I was an independent contractor—free to date whoever I wanted to, even if they gave me a paycheck. Even worse, I told her that we did date for a moment.
That’s when I got the whole lecture on how money could make anyone fall in love.
“Not me,” I’d said. I detailed the one date I went on with him, where he wouldn’t shut up about his golf game or his investments. “We’re from two different worlds, Mom. It would never work.”
Of course, that wasn’t good enough for her.
“Jordy, you’re a good-looking girl, even if your crow’s feet are starting to show.
You’re still younger than Alexander—young enough to snatch him up and never have to work a day in your life.
He probably won’t care that you can’t have kids anymore.
It might even be preferable, so he can just spoil his hot, young wife.
” My mom sighed. “His bankroll should be a bonus, not an issue.”
Crow’s feet. Childless.
I’d closed my eyes, tried to shut out her barbs.
But her words had already gotten in, like they always did.
She always found a way to bring up the kids thing.
When I lost my daughter, I also lost my ability to have kids.
While it had never been my intention to have children, it still stung that the decision was no longer mine.
Apparently, my mom was also reeling from it. But telling her to stop only makes it worse, so I pretended she never said it.
“Yeah, the money is an issue,” I’d muttered. “We’re completely unmatched.”
Luckily, Ashton had showed up just as she was getting started, giving me the perfect excuse to get off the phone.
Of course, I’d felt totally guilty that he even caught me on the phone.
I was there to hang with Lottie, not ignore her while gabbing away.
But honest truth, I’d rather gab with Lottie than my mom any day.
I’d rather hang with Ashton, who had taken Lottie from my arms while I failed at the small job I’d been requested to do.
I glance again at the couch, listening for Ashton’s soft breathing in the dark. I’d been waiting all day for us to hang out. I’d wanted to brag about how quickly Lottie warmed to me, and to show how capable I was of caring for a toddler.
Me! Jordy Gallo! A kids person!
But as soon as work was done, Aston took off for the feed store as if he couldn’t get out of there quick enough. He didn’t even ask if we wanted to go with him.
Jesus, Jordy. Codependent much? I wonder how many times he’s noticed my stupid puppy dog eyes. Is he counting down the days until I’m out of here?
I’m crushing on him hardcore. Meanwhile, he’s likely wondering when he’ll get his house back. It’s probably why he didn’t say more than two words to me when he did get home, didn’t even want to hang out.
I feel like I have whiplash. Two days ago, we were on the river holding hands. Last night, I thought we almost kissed. This morning, he smiled at me like I was someone special.
Tonight, he didn’t even look my way.
Have I imagined everything?
I get up and put my bowl in the sink, running a little water in it so it can soak overnight. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth while staring at myself in the mirror. I look tired, still flushed from our river day in the sun.
What does he see when he looks at me? And why, when I’m leaving in two short weeks, do I even care?
“Pull yourself together, Jordy,” I whisper, looking myself right in the eye.
This is not the time for some inappropriate crush.
I have a job to do. The workmen will be finished with construction by the end of the week, and then I’ll be busy with pulling in every fixture I’ve purchased for the place in preparation for the grand opening.
The last thing I need is a distraction, and definitely not one that will end in heartbreak.
I turn off the light then head back into the hall. For just a moment, I linger near the living room. Not close enough to see Ashton, but I have a clear view of the back of the couch. I catch a glimpse of the jellyfish painting on the wall—still crooked, and completely ridiculous.
I’d laughed when we hung it, now it just looks like a bad joke. A mess of strings floating in confusion.
“My god, don’t you see it? That man could not take his eyes off you.”
Grace’s voice rings in my head. But she’s wrong, and I’m wrong for still being here.
Ashton stirs on the couch, and I turn and tiptoe back to the bedroom. His bedroom. I turn on the light and look around, taking in all my clothes in piles on the floor, a chair, and the end of the bed. God, he’s on the couch while I take over his room.
Even though it’s late, I start putting everything in neat piles. I tell myself I’m just picking up. Just folding a few clothes. But then the suitcase comes out, and one pile turns into two, then more.
And suddenly, I’m not just tidying—I’m preparing. For what, I’m not sure. But I need a plan B, a softer place to land when it all falls apart.
Someplace far from here.