“Of course. I will let you two decide what you would like. Let me know when you are ready.”
When he walked away, silence settled between us.
“I did not know your father passed away,” I said quietly. “I am sorry. And I am sorry for what I said the other day, about you being just like him.”
Ashton looked directly at me. The intensity made me lower my gaze to the menu.
“You do not need to apologize,” he said evenly. “He died five years ago.”
“Oh,” I whispered. “How is your mother?”
I remembered Catherine well. She had always stood at her husband’s side during public events, offering respect without warmth. She never showed hostility toward me. She simply treated me as if I did not exist.
After a pause, Ashton spoke. “She withdrew from public life after his death. I think she missed him, even though he was always distant. She is doing better now. She took up gardening, joined a book club. She is in California visiting her sister.”
“That is good to hear,” I said softly. “Losing someone is never easy.”
“Do you really understand?” Ashton asked sharply, his gaze locking onto mine. His fingers tightened around the rim of his glass.
Before I could answer, a cheerful voice cut through the tension.
“Oh, Ashton. What a coincidence seeing you here.”
He visibly tensed.
“Donna. Angela,” he said coolly.
Recognition struck. Donna was the woman from the coffeehouse. Angela was someone I had once called a friend.
“I hope everything is going well with the wedding preparations,” Donna gushed. “It is going to be the wedding of the year.”
“And how do you know that?” Ashton asked sharply.
“Oh, everyone is talking about it,” she continued. “Lynda mentioned how romantic your proposal was. Five or six years together. And with Angela and me as bridesmaids, we are very excited. In fact, we are meeting her later today.”
Her words brushed past me as though I were invisible.
“We are surprised she is not here with you,” Donna added lightly.
“Is it amusing to see me meeting someone other than my fiancée?” Ashton snapped.
Before the tension could escalate, I spoke. “This is not the first time we have met, if you remember. And Angela, I am sure you remember me. Or is eight years enough time for selective amnesia?”
Silence followed.
Donna’s phone buzzed. “Oh, Lynda is calling,” she said quickly. “We should go.”
They left without another word.
Ashton exhaled and shook his head. “Next time, remind me not to bring you somewhere crowded.”
I froze.
Next time.
The words echoed quietly in my mind, settling somewhere deep in my chest, where certainty and fear collided.
Surprisingly, after several interruptions, we managed to finish a quiet lunch together. The food was excellent, the atmosphere almost pleasant, yet the real reason for our meeting remained untouched. Or rather, Ashton had chosen not to bring it up.
