A gentle knock sounds at my—Noah’s—door. “Esme? You ready?”
The present voice sounds eerily like the one in my dream last night, but there’s a slight difference in inflection than the one in my dream and in my head. I think it was another memory. In the dream, I had woken up in Noah’s arms as he whispered my name against my ear. The whispers became a symphony of laughs, kisses, and carefree entanglements. While it’s safe to say I woke up this morning hot and bothered and desiring something that I shouldn’t with a man I don’t actually remember, I’m simultaneously concerned that I may have lost my virginity to my dream man in real life. Though I didn’t write that into my story because it’s a Christian closed-door novel, I now can’t help but wonder. And if I did, it signifies I truly was off my rocker that week in Bora Bora, because I planned to wait for marriage. Ihaven’t had a lady exam since the accident, and I am due for one, but I’m terrified to find out the truth.
It’s one thing to forget a guy I met on my un-honeymoon.
It’s another thing to forget about having sex with said man.
Glancing at myself one more time in the mirror, I note the few flyaways around my face and neck. I quickly smooth and tuck them into my bun, fiddle with the orange, pink, and white skirt once more, and then move to the door. I slowly open it to find Ashton standing out in the hall wearing mid-thigh khaki shorts and an orange linen button-up shirt that matches mine.
“Hey, we match,” Ashton says with a twinge of suppressed happiness in his voice. Gone is the man who looked tortured and hurt while talking about wild loves last night. In his place is the guy who seemingly wants to crawl out of his shell but has a hard time doing so.
His hazel eyes flecked with green snap to mine, and we laugh at the coincidence of our outfit choices. I give him a playful nudge as I pass through the door. A couple of meetings and a night spent at his place, and I already feel like he’s my best friend. Especially because he’s the only human on this earth that I trust at the moment. My thoughts slip to my parents, Ethan, and Sam, and I have to fight the fury stirring in my heart and mind.
As if he can read my thoughts, Ashton questions me as we leave the house. “Have you contacted your parents to let them know you’re still alive?”
I shake my head, my face hardening as I grind my teeth.
Have they contacted me?
Absolutely.
I turned my phone off last night because Sam wouldn’t stop messaging me. Ethan wouldn’t stop sending me Snapchats. Mom and Dad took turns ringing my phone.
“Esme, you need to contact them. Just to let them know you’re alive.” Ashton’s voice is concerned with a touch of fatherly chastising.
“Okay, Dad,” I retort. He ignores my scowl as he opens the door of his truck for me. After I slide into the lifted monstrosity, I begrudgingly fish my phone from my little white purse.
Me: Ashton says I should let you all know I’m alive. I’m going to meet his and Noah’s family. Then we are going to Bora Bora to look for Noah. Please stop harassing me. I will talk to you when I’m ready.
Mom’s message is immediate.
Mom: I’m so sorry, sweetie. Thank you for the update. We love you. Please, even though you’re angry with me, send me your itinerary for Bora Bora.
I thumb up the message and lock the screen just as Ashton begins to pull out of the driveway.
“Happy?” I ask, reaching for the radio.
Ashton rolls his eyes. “You know? With that attitude, though I understand it to some extent, I think you and Branda will get along nicely. Though that might mean living hell for me and Noah.”
I toss him a cheeky grin as some Kenney Chesney song starts to play, though my smile is a front. My stomach is churning, my heart is beating a little too fast, and sweat is causing my tucked-in shirt to stick to my back.
Ashton assures me I’ll be well-received, but I wonder…
Do I deserve to be welcomed in?
Will they attempt to force me into something with Noah? Ashton says they arehopeful, whatever that entails.
Or were they lying to Ashton about wanting to meet me? Is it a bait-and-switch tactic, and they will rain fire and brimstone down upon me for forgetting Noah and causing him to dip out of town without a way to get in touch with him?
Before I’ve climbed my way out of my head, we are sitting in the truck on the paved driveway of their colossal pearly white home. “You weren’t kidding when you said you lived close. I’m surprised they weren’t at your doorstep last night. Heck, even after our first meeting in Whitney, the rumor mill spread gossip like grass seeds. Did you know we ran off and got married, Ashton?”
He laughs, a twinkle in his eyes, before shaking his head. “I imagine Noah won’t take too kindly to that news.”
The mention of Noah once more reminds me of what I’m doing here, and my chest tightens. “Imagine not,” I mumble, staring at the house in front of me and half-expecting the Noah in my thoughts to speak. But he doesn’t.
“Hey,” Ashton says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right. They’re going to love you.”
“I think that’s what I’m afraid of,” I respond, slipping out of the truck and into the humid mid-July morning heat before Ashton has a chance to come around to get the door. We meet in front of his truck and stand staring up at the white three-story house. It has Roman-style columns out front, and though it's not an old antebellum house, it signifies this family comes from money.No wonder Ashton can afford to fly me to Bora Bora on a whim.
