I try to play it off with a laugh. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t ready to go back to sleep. I don’t, like...needyou.”
His chuckle edges into bitter. “I’m aware, Jocelyn.” His eyes close, and he rests his head on the back of the sofa, hands clasped over his abdomen.
Something lurches in my chest. The hacksaw, probably, trying its best to tear the remains of my heart open for him. What good are walls in the face of this?
“Who was it this time?” he asks, eyes still shut.
Breathing suddenly hurts. Each lungful of air burns with fear.
Scared to have him.
Scared to lose him.
Scared I’ll wait too long and squander my chance.
Scared I already have.
You aren’t running, Joss. You’re hiding.
I draw my legs up and hug them, setting my chin on one knee. “It’s always you, Ash.”
My voice is quiet in the still room, but loud enough I know he heard it, even drunk. His head turns, and his bleary stare sharpens. It dances over my face, searching.
That feeling is returning, the one that’s convinced he’s vital to me. The one that would sacrifice immensely dear things to have him. The one that doesn’t care about the potential pain.
Ahh.
How do I make it stop?
“You’re very confusing,” he says in the midst of my panic. “I’m too drunk to puzzle it out.” He stands, presses a firm kiss to the top of my head and zigzags toward his bedroom. “If you have another nightmare, wake me up. We’ll watch reruns ofThe Bacheloretteuntil sunrise.”
“I think you’ve forgotten I don’t likeThe Bachelorette.”
He stops in the doorway to look at me. “The Bacheloretteis what’s for me. My company is what’s for you.”
Asher
This moment is not every moment. Whether the moment is good or bad, it will not last forever.
—My Therapist
A wedding on the beach is cliché, right? Or is it pretty?
“Wow,” Jocelyn whispers as we step onto the sand. “This is so pretty.”
Okay, then.
White chairs stand in rows before a pink-flower-draped pergola. Beyond it, blue waves crash against gleaming sand.
I direct her toward a back row on Grace’s side. Definitely the best place for us. “You don’t strike me as someone who’d like a beach wedding.”
A grin flashes as she sits. “No, but I appreciate a pretty thing when I see it.”
My gaze touches on the shimmer in her makeup, highlighted by the sun. The platinum shine to her hair. The sheen of gold in her distracting dress. The peekaboo stars across her collarbone. “Me, too,” I mutter under my breath.
“So.” She crosses her legs and wiggles in her seat. “Has the ibuprofen kicked in?”
“Headache is a two out of ten now. Thanks, by the way.”
