Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Paige
For some reason, Gwen got it into her head that she couldn’t possibly exist in England without a long list of grocery items. When I suggested I could send Ash to get them when he got home, she laid into me about taking advantage of him and how he’s not supposed to be employed twenty-four hours a day.
The truth is, I’ve only grocery shopped a handful of times since I got to England.
So, I leave her with the kids, and on the way to the store, I get a little turned around.
When I finally arrive, I wheel the cart down the aisles of the store, my mind mulling over everything Gwen said to me this morning, and the way Ash looked at me in the living room when our gazes connected.
At first, I thought I couldn’t read him.
But after Gwen’s interpretation of how he’s been behaving this week, I realized there’d been the briefest glimmer of hurt in his brown eyes before he’d shuttered them.
He hasn’t hidden his feelings from me in months, and it’s painful to think I’ve somehow let him down because I was too scared to hear this deep well of love might only exist in me.
By the time I’m done shopping, I’m emotionally exhausted and frustrated at the layout of this British grocery store.
But I’ve come to understand the points Gwen made were valid.
I’ve been avoiding speaking to either her or Ash all week by coming home extra late, and it’s partly because I’ve known I’m in the wrong.
Broken heart or not, I owe him a conversation, even if I sob my way through it.
God, I hope I don’t sob my way through it.
Up until now, Ash and I have worked best when we’re truthful with each other.
He tried to be honest with me last week, and it broke something in me.
Instead of trying to fix it, I’ve let my insecurities dominate my thoughts—this notion that I could never be enough for him.
That Imogen’s claim of an epic love, impossible to find again, is how Ash feels too.
Maybe his feelings for me won’t be enough, and even if that thought makes me want to vomit, if I have five more years on the table at work, I need to ask the questions I’ve been pretending aren’t staring us in the face.
I may not be the one for him, and it’ll kill me to hear it, but he deserves my honesty.
In the laneway, Ash’s vehicle is still gone, but Diya’s little car is flush with the entrance. I wrangle the grocery bags into one hand to open the door. When I burst through, I can’t hold in what’s been weighing on my mind.
“Gwen! You’re right. I need to talk to Ash. I’m being stupid. I can’t let my fear of losing him push him away.”
Instead of the scamper of little feet or Gwen calling back that of course she’s right, Ash appears in the doorway of the living room. He leans against the frame, and he crosses his arms.
“This is an unexpected development. Though I suppose it’s better if we’re on the same page.” He raises his eyebrows. “If I’d had to tie you up to get you to talk to me, I guarantee you’d have enjoyed it. Later, perhaps.”
My cheeks heat, and I drop the bags on the floor. He was so angry with me a few hours ago, and now he’s flirting with me? Oh, god. That means he also heard what I just said. “Your car isn’t here.”
“Correct. Thought it best if Diya drove it with Gwen and the kids. Car seats and all.”
“It’s just us.”
“It’s just us.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t get cold feet on me now, sweetheart.”
The endearment causes my stomach to flip, even though I know it’s casual British speak. I get called sweetheart in all sorts of scenarios, and it used to offend me slightly, but it’s definitely not offending me tonight.
“I’m sorry about this week,” I say before I can lose my nerve.
“Never knew you could ghost someone you live with.”
“Gwen assures me it’s quite a feat.”
“Don’t reckon it’s something to be proud of,” Ash says.
That’s a valid point. His attitude coupled with the empty house has thrown me off. I expected to have to dig for the courage to speak to him, not have him confront me in the front foyer.
“A poor joke. I’m a little nervous.” The groceries are on the ground. Gwen had me get the most ridiculous things, which was clearly a setup, but some of it will be melting on the floor soon. “I should . . .” I gesture to the bags.
In one fell swoop, Ash grabs the bags off the floor and takes them to the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, he’s back. Must have just shoved the frozen items into the freezer.
There is zero chance of me avoiding this conversation.
“Care to step into my office?” Ash indicates the living room. “Nanny Ash would like a word.”
With a deep breath, I squeeze past him into the living room.
Pinned to the wall are pieces of Bristol board with the word “scenario” in bold letters with a big number.
The rest of the writing is too small on each one for me to see from where I’m standing.
Some of the writing seems long, and others short. When I try to go to them, Ash tuts me.
“Have a seat.” He points at the couch.
I perch on a cushion and have the distinct feeling I’ve entered the principal’s office or, God forbid, HR.
Ash takes a deep breath, but he’s standing in front of me, not sitting. “I’ll get to that in a bit.” He waves at the boards behind him. “They aren’t plans—Gwen told me you’d get too excited if I labeled them plans. So, scenarios will have to do.”
“Not plans. Got it.” I let out a nervous laugh.
“Right.” He rubs his hands together and shifts on his feet. “I can’t do this up here. It’s weird.”
He comes to the couch, but he leaves a cushion between us, and he turns to face me, one leg bent, and his arm thrown over the back.
I mirror his pose, even though I’m not sure where this is going, I’m glad he seems reasonably sure of himself.
His calm approach to this conversation is definitely going to help me keep my emotions in check.
I won’t be bawling at his feet if he confirms that Imogen is the one for him, might even make it to my room.
“Last week, I fucked up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to speak to you about Imogen without being clear on where my head was at. It wasn’t fair.” He searches my face. “No matter what, I never want to hurt you.”
I swallow, and I can feel the urge to cry tightening my throat. Turns out, I was wrong. Any way he talks about her makes me want to weep.
“Before you, I never really understood what a proper good relationship could be like. My parents got divorced, and I’d been with Immy since I was fifteen.
She was all I knew. What I had with her seemed like what most people wanted.
We got on all right, and considering the fights I saw my parents get into, I was happy enough. ”
Hearing him talk about her is making my stomach queasy again. I’m not sure I’m going to make it through this conversation, but I’m trying really hard not to show the riot brewing.
“But then I met you, and it was like . . .” He makes an expansive gesture with his arms. “All these other layers appeared. Deep. Scary deep, if I’m honest. I’d never experienced that before.
I had no idea so much trust and . . . and .
. . feeling could run between two people.
Shocking, actually, that other people can be good with happy enough when what I feel for you exists. This whole other level.”
My brain short-circuits, and I stare at him, heart thumping. “What you feel for me?” I whisper in disbelief. Did he just say that he never knew so much feeling could run between two people?
He searches my face, and there’s a hint of uncertainty in his expression that I don’t understand. “Part of me thought you knew, and that’s why you’ve been avoiding me all week.”
“That’s not why I was avoiding you. The opposite.”
I don’t want to draw attention to the fact I believed he’d go back to Imogen. Saying it out loud will jinx whatever I think he’s trying to say now, but I really need to find the courage to be completely honest. I have to.
He scooches closer to me on the couch, and my emotions are running as wild as my thoughts.
For the first time, I feel absolutely certain that he’ll take care of my heart.
That he’ll protect it and me. That he won’t let me down in the way I’ve expected for months.
This whole time, I’ve felt like he had one foot out of the relationship, ready to leave, but I’m starting to wonder whether it’s been me, and I projected that onto him.
Maybe I’ve been the problem. I couldn’t manage to leap when I needed to, just like Gwen said, and I screwed everything up.
“I thought you’d pick her,” I whisper. “I was so fucking scared you were going to leave me, that I—” I close my eyes because I feel stupid sitting in front of him admitting this. “If my heart was going to get broken, I wanted to be the one to break it.”
“It’s hard when it all feels out of control, isn’t it? I’m sure having Immy come talk to you didn’t help. I’m sorry about that. I’ve told her she’s not to do that again.”
Both of us have been spinning out in different directions, but we know each other. I lost sight of that for a little while, let my uncertainties, my risk aversion, grip me too hard.
“She got in my head a bit,” I admit. “I didn’t see how I could ever have your heart when she had it for such a long time.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, and he tucks loose strands of my hair behind my ear.
“It’s your name seared into my heart, your voice playing in my ears, your touch that I want at the end of a long day.
It’s you. Only you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this sooner.
It just felt so fucking big to admit it when you’re leaving. ”
“I love you, Ash. So much it scares me.” Tears fill my eyes. “I didn’t think—I didn’t think—I was really scared to love you.”