“I don’t think that matters to Ashton.”
Stella gives me a bewildered look. “What’s gotten into you? You act like you know him. Like you…” Stella hisses louder than I did when I was pain. “Like youlikehim.”
“Of course I like him.”
“Likehim, like him. Like you want to kiss him.”
My heart skips a beat at the word. “What are you, twelve? I know what you mean.”
“I want to make sure,” Stella says in a stern voice. The big sister voice she still uses whenever she thinks she knows more than I do. “Because, Sophie, this is Ashton Carrington we’re talking about. The billionaire.”
“Son of,” I correct.
The big sister voice that also enjoys ignoring my protests, as weak as they may be. Not that I’m protesting wanting to kiss Ashton.
I have a feeling Stella would see right through that.
“He’s the type of guy youshouldn’tbe liking,” she continues.
“I don’t like him,” I mutter. “But—why shouldn’t I? Just out of curiosity.”
This glance isn’t bewildered but makes it seem likeI’mconfused. “Please tell me you’re not falling for him.”
“I’m not tellingyou anything, but I’d like to know your opinion on why I shouldn’t. Which I’m not.”
“I know you used to have a crush on him—”
“I didn’t used to have anything on him.” I glance frantically at Ashton. That’s the last thing I need—for him to know that I had a crush on him, like some annoying tween girl. “We’re hanging out because—”
But I don’t know.We’re friends, I want to say. But I don’t, because a little part of me believes the same as Stella does: that there is no way Ashton Carrington would consider me a friend. “He’s bored,” I finish lamely, because there’s a sharp stab of pain when I say it, and I know it’s not coming from my toe. “That’s all it is. He’s bored here.”
“But why is he here?” Stella points out. “Gunnar wonders too. Sure, Ashton comes and they hang out, but now Gunnar is busy with the council meetings—”
“How is that going for him?” I interrupt because I don’t want to hear what she’s about to say.
“It’s good and a challenge, which is what he needs, but we’re not talking about Gunnar, we’re trying to figure out why Ashton is hanging around Battle Harbour in the middle of January. Haven’t you wondered that?”
“No,” I lie, because of course I have. I do ask myself that same question at least three times a day, but haven’t come up with a reason that makes sense.
“Well, don’t,” Stella snaps.
“I thought you wondered…”
“I can wonder, you can’t. Because if you start thinking about why, then it’s going to lead to other things, and I don’t want your mind to wander there.”
“And you said Ashton was bossy.”
“I know Ashton—at least I know what Gunnar has told me about him, which is a lot— and I know he’s not for you, Soph. It wouldn’t work. He’d only hurt you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one making that decision?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“No. Yes, but not now. Not when you’re so vulnerable.”
“I didn’t realize I was more vulnerable now than I usually am. Which really isn’t vulnerable,” I point out. “At least it’s not a word I’d use to describe myself.”
“You’re lonely, sad because of the Martin situation—”
I laugh. “Are you serious?” I haven’t given Martin a thought in days, and Stella thinks I’m sad?
