Theo looked up at me, tears welling in his eyes. “Please?” My heart squeezed at how badly he wanted it. I didn’t want to hurt him but I knew Ashton wasn’t rolling in the dough.
“I found it for cheap on Ebay.” Ash shrugged, his blue eyes hypnotizing me. “And I just got my tax return.” There was a pleading in his tone asking me not to make a big deal out of this. Maybe what he was really saying was, don’t make a big deal out of this like you did the kiss.
I held his stare for a few seconds longer, then I gave a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”
Theo hopped up, ran over, and squeezed me around my middle. “Thank you, Aunt Tally!”
“It’s not me you should be thanking.” I nodded to Ashton.
“Thank you,Asshhh-ton.” Then he walked over and threw his arms around Ash’s neck.
Ash squeezed him tight and I was pretty sure I’d never seen anything more attractive. “You’re welcome, pal.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Jenny called from the kitchen. “Has anyone seen the birthday boys?”
Theo sprinted toward the door. I caught him by the arm and raised a brow. “Remember what we talked about?”
He looked up, his big brown eyes brimming with happiness, bouncing on his toes. “Ash says this birthday dinner is for me too.” Then he tore out of the room with James right behind him.
I glanced at Ashton who was on his feet, stretching. A slice of skin peeked out from the hem of his shirt. Abs. Rock solid abs. The memory of what they felt like beneath my fingertips released a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach.
When his arms dropped and the skin disappeared, my eyes slid up his chest to his face. There was a cocky smirk waiting for me. I’d been caught.
My face heated. “Thanks for doing that for Theo.” I waved a hand at the Legos. “And for including him today.”
“Of course.” He walked toward me and I dropped my eyes, checking my fingernails. So cliche. As he stepped around me—close enough that I could smell the MontBlanc—I tensed. With his mouth right next to my ear, he whispered, “Theo and I know how to be friends.”
He took a step away but I caught him by the elbow. He looked over, eyes hooded, and I searched them. I didn’t want to say it. Was terrified of his response. But Imade myself anyway. I’d known him too long—he meant too much—for things to continue this way. “I really miss your friendship. Can you ever forgive me? Maybe…pretend it never happened?”
His expression turned hard. Not hard compared to how a normal guy would’ve reacted to The Kiss and my subsequent Walk of Shame. But for Ash, yeah. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my fists curled beside me.
Lips off, Ash.
Then he looked me dead in the eyes and very slowly said, “No. I don’t think I can do that.”
eight
ASHTON
After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations.
— OSCAR WILDE
“Idon’t care what you say.” I bit the insides of my cheeks so Tally wouldn’t know I was close to breaking. “Edward and Bella’s relationship is a terrible example to girls everywhere. Hello, codependency? And he’s like a hundred years old! People who let their teenage daughters read that shouldn’t be surprised when they bring alpha-holes home for dinner.”
I was fully aware that we were, once again, putting on a show for my entire family. Sans the grandparents who were outside playing with the grandkids. But everyone else was there, bright-eyed and grinning, stuffed full of Dad’s ribs, and Mom’s key lime pie. Blue was super stuffed since Mom had made an entire extra pie just for him.
Tally had eaten her entire meal in silence, clearly hurt bywhat I’d said in the library. But I couldn’t go back to the way things were. Not after that kiss. It didn’t mean I wanted things to be stilted between us though.
After watching Tally throughout the meal with an expression of worry, Anna had purposely baited me by saying thatTwilightwas the best fantasy book ever written. A completely ridiculous statement she knew I couldn’t keep quiet about. And of course, Tally couldn’t resist being the voice of opposition if I had any opinion on a book. So she’d thrown her hat in the ring immediately.
But she was smiling again and her eyes were bright.
Smart, Anna. I’d thank her later.
Years ago, Holden had titled our “show,” The Ashton-Tally Smackdown. Said it was better than Friday night wrastling. Yes, wrastling with an A. We live in the south. Truthfully, our literature “discussions” were more like a game of You Laugh, You Lose.
And I was determined not to lose.
