After that, the conversation settles into comfortable small talk. Finding out about Rick’s charity boxing match seems to have broken the ice, as though Seth has finally got a read on what kind of man he is. When we finish eating, we adjourn to the living room and gather around the coffee table to play cards again. Devon and Harley are both terrible, but Seth and I have played together hundreds of times before and work effectively as a team. Rick isn’t bad either, and Mae muddles through. By the end of the night, we’re all laughing, and when we go to bed, we’ve already promised to visit again soon.
21
Seth
Ashlin and I strip off our clothes and collapse into bed. She snuggles into my side and rests her cheek over my heart—not far from where her name is written on my skin. I always knew she’d be the only one for me, and this weekend has confirmed it. Once upon a time, running into Trip would have ruined my entire day, but because of her, it was a blip on the radar. Instead, my memory wanders to the noises she made as we kissed in the backseat of the rental, and how her eyes lit up every time we won a hand of cards.
I love her. No fucking doubt about it. But I still don’t know exactly what went wrong in the past. Obviously I wasn’t there when she needed me to be, but when she announced that she was filing for divorce, it came as a motherfucker of a nasty shock. I’d thought she’d eventually start acting like herself again, and instead she left me. As I breathe in the scent of her hair, the last thing I want to do is disrupt what we’ve got going, but in order to move forward, we need to clear the air, the same way I did with Mom last night.
“Why did you ask for a divorce?”
Her breath catches. “Things weren’t right between us. You know that.”
Yeah, okay. So maybe I did. And perhaps I’d kept my head in the sand and hoped it would all come right rather than facing up to the truth.
“But why didn’t you talk to me first?” I stroke a hand down her shoulder, hoping I won’t drive her away with these questions. “I know I’ve asked before, but I really want to know. I could have tried to fix it.”
“It wasn’t something you could fix.” She wriggles back so she can look me in the eye. “I felt like I was suffering alone because you buried yourself in work, and after that first week, it didn’t seem to bother you that we lost…” She closes her eyes briefly. “Cara. God, we should never have named her. Not so early on in the pregnancy.”
“I’m glad we did,” I admit, the skin of my wrist tingling where our unborn baby’s name is printed across it. “It makes it more real, and maybe that made it hurt more, but I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t?” she whispers.
“No. I’m sorry I fucked up and made you feel like you were alone. I swear, I was hurting too.”
“I know you were.” She kisses my chin, her expression tender. “Just because I felt a particular way doesn’t mean it was what actually happened. With therapy and hindsight, I can see that we each dealt with it differently. You got busy, and I wallowed. Neither of us experienced more grief than the other.”
Some of the pressure on my chest eases, but not all of it. “I’m still sorry you felt that you had no choice but to leave. I hate that.”
“It’s not on you.” She speaks gently, like I’m a wounded animal, and that feels a little too close for comfort. “I didn’t try to explain what I was going through. I just gave up.” She rubs her lips together and glances away before continuing. “Honestly, I felt like I’d become dependent on you for my happiness, and that scared me because suddenly you weren’t there. I wish I’d been in a state of mind where I could have had a discussion with you like we’re having now, but I was stuck in this cycle of grief. My instincts told me I had no choice but to get away and prove I could stand on my own.” She finds one of my hands and grips it. “I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. That was selfish of me.”
Everything inside of me is tight. I can’t believe she felt that way, and I had no idea.
“It’s not all your fault either. How about we agree that we both played a part and commit to communicating better in future?”
“That sounds perfect.” She kisses me so sweetly that I feel it in my heart.
“I love you,” I tell her, not wanting her to doubt it. “Any time you need something, you tell me what and I’ll give it to you.”
“Same here.” She shifts closer again, cuddling to my side. “Thank you for telling me that, Seth. So, are we really doing this?”
“Yeah.” I smile even though she can’t see. “We are, and this time, we’re going to get it right.”
Ashlin
Tonight is my second first date with Seth. He insisted we call it that and make it official, so I’m dressing to the nines. We’re only doing dinner, but I want to wow him so badly he can’t keep his hands off me. I always loved his possessive streak, and how tactile he was with me. He constantly touched my waist, hips, lower back, hair, neck, hands—whatever he could lay claim to in public without being arrested for indecency.
I wear a form-fitting red dress that accentuates my coloring—fair skin and dark hair—and clings to every curve from my shoulders to my thighs. Seth has never seen this dress before, but it’s a lot like the pencil skirts that used to drive him crazy. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I swipe red lipstick on—something I haven’t worn in years, but goes so perfectly with the dress. I go to the dresser and scan the contents of my jewelry box, settling on a necklace he gave me for our third anniversary. Something else catches my eye. The plain black box that houses my wedding and engagement ring. I pop it open and study them. They sit nestled against the velvet, glimmering in the light. I never had the heart to get rid of them because giving them away felt like closing the door on that part of my life for good. Now, I roll them between my fingers. Slip them on, and admire the fit.
Perfect.
My phone rings, and I grab it off the bed and answer without checking the screen.
“Hi.”
“Hey, Ash.” It’s Paige. “Getting ready for your big date?”
I confessed to my friends about Seth and me earlier in the week.
