Ash: A Bad Boy Romance (31 page)

Summer looks at me, face stricken and gray again. “What is happening?” The words come out in a whisper.
 

“Everything, all at once.” I get up and pick up the puppy and the package. I sit the puppy on her lap and put the package on the coffee table in front of her. The Corgi leans its head into Summer’s chest, and she scratches its floppy ears. “First of all,” I say, looking at her seriously. “We need to give this puppy a strong Irish name.”

She laughs and squeezes the little dog to her chest. “I guess we do.”

“Darragh?”
 

“No one can pronounce that.” Her eyes flick over to the white box on the table. “What about Emmett? That was my grandfather’s name. He’s the one family member that doesn’t have shit to do with this.”

“Well, he can’t speak for himself. Maybe he did, and we just don’t know. Your family’s pretty shady.”

“Look who’s talking. Here, take Emmett.” She hands me the hapless puppy, and he yelps and wiggles like he can’t quite control his body.
 

Tentatively, Summer picks up the white package and opens it. A heavy stack of papers sits inside, all very legal looking and notarized. “Is this really what B said it is?”

“I think so.” I can’t help but think of the divorce papers she served me with after she first saw me again. These are a damn sight better than those papers—but I don’t say anything because I don’t want to give her any ideas.
 

She flips through the stack, eyes scanning the pages, and then she sits back into the chair with a deep, shaky breath.
 

“It’s—it’s a lot.” Her eyes meet mine.

“How much is ‘a lot’?”

“A lot,” she says again, raising her eyebrows. “Like more than I’ve ever had in my bank account, plus more than my mother’s ever had in her bank account.”

“Summer, how much?”

“Five hundred and thirty-six thousand dollars.”

“Five hundred and thirty-six thousand dollars?”

“That’s exactly what I just said. I know you’re old,” she says, laughing. “But can you not hear?”
 

“Wow—that’s—that’s a significant amount of money.”

“It is.” She twirls her hair between her fingers and blows air between her lips in a put-putting sound. “Can I just leave this on your coffee table until tomorrow? I can’t with this right now. I really can’t. I’m not supposed to be happy that someone’s gone. And while we’re at it, I’m not
supposed
to be pregnant either.”

I tilt my head and shrug. “Emmett probably needs to go out. Let’s take him to the beach. It’s September—the tourists are gone.”

“Nags Head or the Manteo boardwalk?”

“We’ll go to the boardwalk. We can get dinner and go see Linda. Introduce her to Emmett.”

“She’s going to freak out,” Summer says. Then, suddenly, the tears come. I’m not in the dark like I was last time.
 

There’s so much, all at once. The journey here has been weird and twisted, arduous and long. But I always knew I’d come back to Summer—I always knew this day would happen. Not exactly like this, because I couldn’t have known, but a day we’d remember forever, one we’d talk about when we’re old and not beautiful anymore.
 

“Should we get married?” I ask her.
 

She looks at me and starts laughing hard through her tears. “Why not? Second time is a charm.”

“I think they say ‘third time is a charm.’ Maybe. But maybe the second!”

“Whatever. Either way, our divorce lawyer is going to be
very
confused. And so is any kind of officiant. What will we call it?”

“Renewing our vows, or maybe ‘Saying our vows for real this time.’ Would that look good on a card?” I stand up and take her hand, leading her out to the car and picking up Emmett’s leash and collar on the way.
 

I never doubted this day—and I hope that Summer has as much faith in herself as I do in her. She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me before we get in the car.
 

“I love you, Jonathan Ash.”

“I love you, Summer Colington. Every day for all of these years, and each one going forward, for the rest of our lives.”

Three Months Later
 

    
When the tourists are gone for the summer, Kill Devil Hills feels completely different. There aren’t cars up and down Beach Road, and the ice cream shops close up, except for the one that’s right on the corner near our neighborhood. The sirens aren’t going off at all hours of the night, and sometimes the emergency room is almost empty save for the few locals and fishermen who seem like constants. It’s during the summer that everything feels alive, bustling with people who only see the place for a short part of the year.

I missed it when I was away, and I didn’t know that I’d ever want to be back. There was a way I envisioned my life going, and it didn’t have anything to do with the life I came back and found, right here, waiting for me.

The house isn’t big, but we knew from the moment we saw it. The floors are all made of palm, paler than bamboo and warmer than tile. The bedroom is just big enough for a king-sized bed and a bassinet right next to it. The first time I saw it, I was only two months pregnant, and we had no idea if this pregnancy was ever going to make it.
 

We stood on the porch, and I placed my hand over my belly, willing something to happen inside—willing something to move or keep growing or give me any kind of sign.
 

“You know too much about medical stuff, Sunshine. Stop worrying. Let’s go inside and see what this one is like.”

Until that day, it felt tenuous, like a joke the world was playing on both of us, like this thing that was neither real nor imaginary. If I think back on it, the pregnancy was kind-of like looking for a house. We’d seen ten that never felt real to us, that never felt like anything close to a home. It began to feel like there wasn’t anything that would suit us, that there wasn’t a house on the market that we could put our finger on and say, “This one is ours. This is the place.”

“I only know too much because I studied. It’s a good thing. It means I know what can go wrong—”

“That’s the problem. You have to listen to me, because this time, despite everything else in our lives, absolutely nothing is going to go wrong.”

Ash peered into the living room, eyes growing big as we waited for the realtor to show up. She was late, but after we stood waiting, talking about what we wanted, she arrived in a frazzled mess. It felt ceremonial when we followed her inside and saw the floors, the living room that extended toward the kitchen, black granite countertops and white cabinets that looked more like they belonged in a farmhouse than a beach cottage. Light played through the windows, and mottled shadows of the trees from outside danced over the floor.
 

Even before we walked onto the screen porch and saw the sprawling backyard for Emmett—and a new addition to the family—I knew I was already
home
.
 

Some days, I come home late, and some nights, Ash is home long after midnight. He finally allowed me to make an investment in his business—because somewhere along the way, I was able to convince him that I believed in him as much as he believed in me.

The road isn’t an easy one. Even though we’re technically still young, we feel much older. The road that we took to get here was winding, and there were twists and turns we didn’t expect.
 

On this night, though, everything feels
just
right. I waddle over to the sofa, already carrying what feels like far more than the weight I’ve gained. Ash will be home shortly. For now, I’m content to put my legs up and wait, eyes closed, hand resting on Emmett’s velvety ears, savoring our hard-won peace. It’ll all be turned on its head in the next few months, but that’s a different kind of upset than the ones we’ve been used to. It’ll be one that’s welcome, one that’s needed.
 

When I hear Ash at the door, my eyelids flutter open slowly, and I watch as he enters. Emmett runs over to him, running in little circles on his stumpy legs. Ash picks him up and scratches him between his ears before putting him down. Content, Emmett busies himself with a toy while he watches us with his soulful eyes.
 

Ash’s red hair gleams in the afternoon light, looking more like copper than ever. If I look hard enough, I know I’ll see a strand or two of gray. He hates it, but it just makes him look even more like the man I love.

“You have anything to share with me, Sunshine?”

“Let me see. There’s laundry in the washer that I don’t want to deal with, so you have to put it in the dryer.” I pause, and point over to the kitchen. “And I got take-out from the diner over on Beach Road. So you can bring that over here, because I’m not getting up.”

He goes to the kitchen and picks up the greasy white bags and two of the hand-fired plates Bianca sent from Brooklyn in December. “And?”

“And you can pick up that envelope too.” My face breaks into a smile.

“You promise you weren’t looking today?”

“I promise.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, baby.” He puts the greasy food down on the Ikea coffee table and dishes it out over two plates, giving us both huge handfuls of French fries.
 

“Debbie will get the ultrasound tech to do it again next week so you can see. But I didn’t want to wait any longer—and no, I didn’t look.”
 

He holds the envelope in one hand and opens it, getting a grease spot on the outside flap. When he pulls the card out, he looks at it in disbelief and then meets my gaze, his eyes dancing.
 

“You looked at it!” I say, grabbing it out of his hands. “We were supposed to look at it at exactly the same time.” We’re both laughing, and my heart is pounding hard, nearly racing out of my chest. I hold the white index card in my hand and flip it over quickly.

Ash leans in and kisses my cheek. “It’s a boy,” he murmurs, placing one hand on my belly. At that moment, the baby gives a resounding kick that makes him feel much larger than his twenty weeks, nearly bruising my rib in the process. Ash looks at me when he feels it and kisses me again, longer and warmer this time, like one of the hungry, passionate kisses from when we first met. He doesn’t hold anything back—his hands roam over my body, hitting each sensitive place, cradling my tender breasts and the round swell of my belly.
 

“Food’s getting cold,” I mutter.

“Forget it, Sunshine. That’s what microwaves are for. I think I’ll have my dessert first.” He moves a hand under my dress and squeezes my thigh, then makes his way to my panties and pulls them down.

“You can’t just—” I stop mid-sentence. Ash is already coaxing moans from my throat, sending deep vibrations through my body, making me seethe and writhe and ache. “You can’t just—”

“We’re grown-ups, Summer. And we can do exactly what we please.”
 

His lips cover mine, and my back arches in delight.

Much later, when we’re lying on the couch and the cold French fries and wilted salads look at us accusingly from the coffee table, we slip on our clothes and eat shortcake for dinner, doling out extra whipped cream on each plate. Maybe once the baby is born, we’ll put on a show of making adult choices, and maybe we won’t, at least not until he can remember anything about how we behaved.
 

“Henry,” I say, the taste of strawberries still on my tongue. Even though it’s cold outside, the shortcake tastes like summer. “After your father.”

Ash nods and looks at me, taking another bite of cake. “A complicated man.”

“The way I look at it, we never would have met if it weren’t for him.”

“Might be true. Or maybe I would have found you anyway.”

 
“Sounds like you’re being romantic,” I say. “When I first met you, you told me you had no intention of being romantic. That you probably wouldn’t see me again.”

“I said a lot of bullshit back then. But in all this time, I haven’t met another woman like you, and I don’t think I will again. It’s forever with you, Sunshine. And no more funny business. I’m on the straight and narrow.”

“Doesn’t sound like you, Jonathan Ash.”