What scared me was how much she believed in me.
The TV flickered on, some football game I didn’t care about. I drank anyway. The noise filled the space where my thoughts were getting too loud.
There was a knock at the door. I swayed a little as I opened the door.
Ashley stood there.
“Hey,” she said.
Chapter 64
Ethan
Seeing Ashley at the door should have been enough to stop me from drinking.
It should have snapped something into place. It should have made me close the door and apologize for the trouble. It should have reminded me that this was the week I was supposed to be becoming someone else.
Instead, my mind slid sideways.
Ashley stood there with a paper bag hanging from one hand. The smell of fried food drifted toward me, sharp and greasy and suddenly nauseating.
She was dressed like she was going somewhere. A short dress that clung to her body. Heels that made her taller than usual. Her hair was done, her makeup careful, her mouth already curved into a smile that faltered when she saw my face.
“You look like hell,” she said.
I laughed. It came out too loud.
“Come in,” I said, stepping back without really deciding to.
She hesitated, then walked past me, the door clicking shut behind her. The apartment felt smaller with her in it, too warm.
She set the bag down on the counter. “Nate said you were drunk,” she said. “He asked me to bring this over because he was tied up.”
That was true. Or close enough to true.
Earlier, when the alcohol had just begun to loosen its grip on me, I had called Nate. I remembered fumbling with my phone, squinting at the screen, the television noise bleeding into everything.
I had told him I was starving. That I needed food. That I was dying.
“Order a pizza,” he had said.
I had scoffed at that. Had felt suddenly indignant, like I had been wronged.
“I’m getting married,” I had told him. “You’re supposed to bring me food. That’s your job.”
He had laughed at me. Called me an idiot. Told me to get over myself.
I had whined. Dragged it out. Leaned into the joke because it was easier than admitting I did not want to be alone.
Eventually he had sighed and said fine. That he would figure something out.
I had not asked questions after that.
Standing there now, watching Ashley move through my kitchen like she belonged there, the weight of that small decision settled in my gut.
“Thanks,” I said, though my appetite was gone. The smell that had seemed comforting a moment ago now made my stomach roll.
Ashley looked at me more closely then. Her eyes narrowed.
