“I’m not doing this to myself.” He scrubbed his hands over his face again. “If it’s taken me the better part of a year to take maybe one or two baby steps forward, I… I just can’t.”
All right.
I took a step back and folded my arms over my chest, and I dropped my stare to the ground.
I was such a fucking idiot.
Yeah, he’d taken baby steps forward. Good for him. I assumed one of those steps included dating some little asshole at Mclean.
Truth be told, I couldn’t stomach the confirmation, so I kept my mouth shut.
Thank fuck we only had two days left on our vacation, ’cause I had a feeling it was going to be a nightmare from here on out.
A week later
Alexandria
Nathan Riley
Given the hour, I wasn’t surprised to see so many work trucks outside the red brick building. People had gone home for the day.
Well, most of them.
Not Ash.
He wasn’t even going to say hello?
I killed the engine and watched Ash give Dylan a quick hug. The entrance to Ash and Theo’s office was maybe sixty feet away; I wasn’t expecting him to cross a desert for me, but this was ridiculous. He usually came over to confirm dinner plans. Then again, that wasn’t happening tonight either.
He’d decided to “work late” since we’d returned home from Maine. Instead, he picked up Micah and Lily from school and kindergarten, spent a couple of hours with them, then lied and said he had to get back to work.
So far, no major issues with Micah’s anxiety, except for sometimes at school when I had to pick him up early.
Ash dropped him and Lily off at my folks’ house, all so he could avoid me.
But I’d made my choice, right?
Tasted like fucking acid, but here we were.
Ash exchanged a few more words with Dylan, who handed over his golf bag to Ash until next time they’d meet up. Then Dylan trailed toward my car while Ash returned inside.
Business was going well, I supposed. When they’d first started the company, Ash and Theo, they had rented the top floor only. Now they had all three. And a big concrete lot for their equipment.
Dylan opened the door and climbed in. “Hey.”
“Hey, kid. How are you today? How was school?”
“I got a C+, so I think I can relax now.”
Oh, that was good. He’d worried about that exam.
“You definitely can,” I say, backing out of the lot. “That’s great, son.”
The boy excelled at sports like football, golf, swimming, rock climbing, bouldering, and whatever else he tried. He was also good with numbers—but history? Social studies? English? Ash and I had lost count of the times Dylan had chucked textbooks at the wall.
A C+ was great, though. It might even up his average.
“We should celebrate,” I said. “What do you want for dinner?”
