39. Ashton
ASHTON
I wake the next morning with birds chirping outside my window, the ocean’s waves crashing in the distance, and Teddy’s soft breathing at the foot of the bed. For one blissful second, life feels perfect.
But then I remember last night.
I groan and cover my eyes, not ready to relive last night’s horror show on repeat. My head aches from shedding tears half the night. My pillow is soaked with the evidence. My phone vibrates from the floor where I plugged it in.
I stretch my body off the side of the bed and snatch it. I wipe my bleary eyes. It’s already ten a.m. I feel like I just fell asleep. Maybe I did.
Ms. Judith
Hey honey, saw your texts from the past couple of weeks. Sorry, I’m just now replying. I’ve been sleeping a great deal, but I’m doing fine. Out of the hospital, just recovering at my son’s house. Sleeping in my grandson’s bunk bed. A real treat, I tell ya.
I sit up straight. Judith! She’s okay!
Another text comes in.
Ms. Judith
Saw the pictures of you last night on that trashy TV channel you hate to watch. You looked beautiful. And that Griffin. Wow. What a hunk!
I laugh. Only she would focus on our appearance and not on the taglines.
Ms. Judith
Don’t let those no-good nobodies take your joy. You go out and grab it.
Ms. Judith
And by grab it, I mean that man of yours. Delicious. Way to go, honey. I knew you had it in you.
Ms. Judith
Got to go. Time for my mid-morning snack and nap. Love you, sugar. Call you soon.
I bite my lip, smiling at how much I missed my sassy neighbor. I’ll have to text her later when I know she’s officially out of her napping window.
My phone buzzes with another text. And another. Annnnd another.
Wren
Where are you?
Wren
Are you okay?
Wren
Are you alive?
Wren
Please just tell me you’re okay.
Guilt pinches me at not having thought to text her last night. Already, I’m a terrible friend.
Ashton
I’m alive. I’m sorry I didn’t text you.
The phone lights with immediate dots.
Wren
I’m just glad you’re okay. Where are you? Can I come see you?
Teddy army-crawls toward me and nuzzles under my arm.
I breathe in his familiar scent. I trust Wren not to tell Griffin where I’m staying, and honestly, I could use her positivity about now.
With her being familiar with Griffin and my whole “situation,” she might give a better perspective on how I should proceed.
Ashton
I’m at my sister’s. Here’s the address.
Wren
Great. Be there in ten.
I laugh.
Wren
Wait. Just kidding. It’ll take at least an hour in traffic, but I promise I’ll be there ASAP. Need anything? Chocolate? Tub of ice cream? A vat of queso and chips?
I laugh again, already feeling lighter.
Ashton
Yes. Chips and queso, please.
Wren
On it.
I force myself out of bed, my limbs weighing a thousand pounds, and shrug on my comfiest sweats.
I sneak into the bathroom and peer into the mirror.
My hair is a lopsided bird’s nest, my makeup like a bridezilla’s—the kind who stayed out all night drinking and partying.
I scrub my face, brush my teeth, and then tame my hair into a messy bun.
When I emerge from the bathroom, I feel closer to a human being, just one functioning on minuscule sleep.
“Oh good, you’re up. Coffee’s ready if you’d like some.” My sister’s wearing denim shorts, the ends razored, and an oversized T-shirt. Her hair’s contained in a similar messy bun.
“I’d love some.” I go straight to the counter, grab an empty mug next to the coffee maker, and pour, filling my cup to the rim. “What time did you get up?”
“Not long ago, maybe thirty minutes before you. I made some eggs and bacon. Want some?”
I slide onto one of the two barstools at her tiny kitchen island. “Yes, please.” I barely had time to snack on any of the food at the gala last night, my stomach too busy being tied in knots. And afterward, well, my appetite disappeared completely.
Cecily slides a plate across the counter and then dishes up her own plate. She grabs a mug resting next to the stove. “Sleep okay?” She slurps her coffee and slips onto the barstool next to me.
“I did. Thanks for letting me stay.”
She bumps her shoulder into mine, jostling my coffee. “That’s what sisters are for.”
I smile, appreciating our growing friendship. Speaking of, “I hope it’s okay, but I invited a friend over.”
She looks at me over her mug, “Oh, really? Would this friend happen to be male or female?”
“Female. Wren Reynolds.”
She spews her coffee onto her plate and the counter. “Are you serious?”
I laugh. “I figured famous people wouldn’t affect you anymore.”
“Are you kidding? I love her. I love her music. I love everything about her.” She mops up her coffee with a napkin.
“Good. She’ll be here in an hour or two.” Knowing I added a detour to her venture, it might take her longer to get here than she suspected.
Cecily stands. “Seriously? Then I need to clean.” She rushes around the kitchen, throwing a pan in the sink, opening and slamming cabinets, and putting away cooking supplies.
I laugh. “It’s fine. She doesn’t care. I promise.”
“I care!” Cecily reaches up and feels her hair. “Oh my gosh. My hair.” She looks down at her T-shirt. “My clothes! I have to change.” She heads toward the hallway.
“Cecily, it’s fine. I promise she won’t care.”
“But I do! I can’t let a fabulously styled popstar in my house looking like a hobo.” She starts ripping out her bun. “I’m going to shower.”
I give up trying to convince her and sip my coffee. “Okay.”
She pops her head back out of the hallway. “Oh, and I let the puppies out this morning and made sure they had food and water.”
I smack my forehead. I’d selfishly forgotten about them. “Thank you!”
“No problem! ’Kay, showering now.” She slams the bathroom door shut.
Teddy sits obediently by my side, hoping for a piece of bacon.
I slip him a piece and open the patio door, he runs out to the puppies playing in the yard.
I laugh as he bumps Cocoa with his nose, she tumbles through the grass, only for Chip to come up behind Teddy and start nipping at his back legs.
They’ve been with me for over six weeks, it’s going to be hard to separate the three of them.
Then again, I wouldn’t have to if I could get the rescue up and running.
A jolt of excitement runs through me. I grab my phone and check my Venmo account for results from the gala. I scream and collapse onto the floor.
Cecily hollers from the shower. “Ash, you okay?”
My pulse races, blood whooshes in my ears as my hands go numb. I drop the phone and stare into space.
Cecily comes out, a towel haphazardly covering her front, shampoo in her hair. “What? What is it? Everything okay?”
“My rescue. The gala. It raised over a million dollars.”
She squints her eyes and swipes shampoo from her forehead. “That’s good, right?”
“Yes!” A laugh bubbles out of me.
“Awesome! We’ll talk in a minute—going back to my shower now.” Cecily zips back into the bathroom.
The numbers on my phone screen blur as I stare at them, my brain barely comprehending the sum. The Rescue Ranch is fully funded for, like, years. With excitement flowing through my veins, I snatch my phone and call the realtor, eager to make a quick and generous offer.
We’re all settled in Cecily’s living room, Wren and me on her loveseat, and Cecily in her wide armchair. She’s beaming, still starry-eyed at Wren’s company. She’s changed into a long-sleeved pink dress, her hair blown out and curled. Wren’s wearing a T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a high ponytail.
I tried really hard not to laugh when Wren came to the door dressed almost identically to how my sister had been earlier.
“They accepted your offer?” Wren asks, pulling a pillow onto her lap.
I gave her and my sister a run-down on my conversation with the realtor and the sum accumulated from the gala. “Yes. We’ll finalize the paperwork on Monday.”
Wren squeezes my hand. “That’s amazing! I’m so glad the gala was such a success. I knew it would be.”
I smile back. “Mostly thanks to you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And Griffin.”
“About him…you ready to talk about last night? I saw some of the posts this morning. Are you okay?”
In all the chaos of the morning—finding the funds and making the offer—I haven’t even thought to look at social media. It’s probably best I don’t. More than likely, I’ll have to delete my new accounts anyway.
“Wait, like Griffin Ford?” Cecily’s eyes travel back and forth between Wren and me.
I told my sister I was casually seeing someone, but given his contract, I couldn’t reveal any details.
I nod. “I was surprised you never mentioned our pictures together that were blasted all over social media from the Rhodes party a few weeks ago.”
“I rarely check my accounts. That’s not really my life anymore. I started a new one just for my artwork, but it’s under a pseudonym, so no one knows it’s me. And I mostly only follow other artists.”
“That’s smart. I like that you’re sharing your talent.” My chest pinches. It’s what I hoped to do with mine. I didn’t want to be connected to Being the Blakes , but now that account will be forever tainted, thanks to the paparazzi last night.
“Thank you, but can we get back to the part where you’re dating the Griffin Ford? Start at the beginning. I want all the details. How did the two of you meet?” She pushes the bowls of chips and queso further toward us on the small coffee table.
I rehash the whole story from nearly getting run over by him at the shelter’s parking lot, to shoving him in the storage closet, to adopting and training Roxy, to the Rhodes party, to our conversation on the beach, and to developing something…more.
Cecily scoops a dollop of queso and shoves a chip in her mouth, mumbling between bites. “Wait, wait, so he’s the one who found the ranch you just put an offer on?”
I nod, fidgeting with my hands in my lap.
Wren leans forward. “ And he helped find the venue for the gala.”
Cecily licks some queso off her thumb, contemplating for a moment. “And you’re worried he has feelings for Scarlet?”
I shrug and grab one of the throw pillows, pulling it onto my lap. “I don’t know. Maybe? It’s all so confusing! Before the gala last night, I planned to tell him I loved him. He’s really the only man I’ve ever felt this way for…unless you count Tanner.”
Cecily sits up straighter. “I absolutely do not. That was a boy who was a complete jerk. You need to erase him from your memory and never, ever compare any guy to him. I’m kind of leaning toward believing Griffin. That he was just comforting Scarlet.”
“I can definitely see Griffin doing that,” Wren chimes in. “He’s too nice of a guy not to try to console someone even if he’s breaking their heart.”
“I kind of think so, too. Just seeing the two of them…together…like that. It stung. Brought up so many old insecurities.” I gnaw on my lower lip. “Besides that, there’s Mom and his dad.”
Cecily frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Wren looks confused, too.
“Didn’t you see the two of them at the gala together?
” Maybe Wren didn’t, or maybe she didn’t recall enough details about my mom to notice her at the gala.
“Wren, I haven’t told you everything about my past, but as you witnessed at the Rhodeses’ party, I don’t have a great relationship with my mom. ”
“ We don’t have the greatest relationship with our mom,” Cecily inserts.
“Right. We.”
It feels nice to say that. Like now I have someone on my side.
“Griffin knows all this. And yet, his dad showed up at the gala as a couple with our mom, and he’s completely unfazed. Turns out he’s known they’ve been dating for weeks! At least since the Rhodeses’ party. And never once thought to tell me.” Warn me.
Wren puts her hand on mine. “From what Griffin has told me, Thomas Ford has a different woman on his arm almost every month. It wouldn’t surprise me if Griffin honestly thought it was just a one-off. Maybe he didn’t tell you in hopes of preventing you from getting hurt.”
“Or, he never intended for us to have a real relationship where we’d go to family events together, and he knew we’d never run into each other.”
Wren tilts her head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I say weakly.
“You could call him. Ask him outright.” Cecily reaches for another chip and dips it in the queso.
“I told him I needed space. Time to think. Because even if I do believe him, what about his career? I don’t know if I’m confident enough to handle being in a relationship with someone who’s always kissing other women on-screen! I don’t know if my heart could take it.”
Wren reaches across the couch and squeezes my hand. “You could. For the right man, you absolutely could. Call him. You’ll feel better.”
“I can’t! I’m not ready. I need more than twenty-four hours to consider if his lifestyle is one I can handle. I don’t want to return to the kind of life we had growing up. It might break me.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re strong enough,” Cecily offers.
“I’m not so sure about that. Last night was awful. I can’t live like that. I need more time to figure out what I want from my future before I let him cloud my judgment.”
Wren and Cecily both nod in understanding.
“Maybe text him at least? Get any questions or doubts you have out there in the open? Then you can make a clearer decision on what you want to do next?” Wren offers.
“I’ll think about it.”
Griffin’s lifestyle is the exact opposite of what I’ve pictured for myself for the last five years. How can I flip my own goals upside down? Do I even want to? I fear Griffin’s career will always make me doubt his feelings for me. How can I ever trust him implicitly?
If I can’t, then what’s the point of even trying to repair what might have been?