Fixing Ashley (5 page)

I probably just fucked myself over.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I nod curtly and point to the exit. “I gotta go.”

Without another word, I leave the club and go home, praying I still have a job on Monday.

I screwed up.

Monday morning creeps up on me like a snake waiting for its prey.

I don’t want to go to the house.

I don’t want to see her.

That’s a lie.

I want to see her, but I have a feeling she won’t be there.

Actually, judging from past behavior, chances are there will be a Post-it note attached to the front door telling me I’m fired.

Stretching out of bed, I run a hand through my hair and sigh. This is going to be a long week.

I’ve spent the last few days dodging Brad’s calls, and ended up leaving him a message that I probably won’t need him this week. My shoulder is better and in all honesty he’s got his own things to do. He’d never tell me, but I know how busy he is with his own custom carpentry business. I see his pieces often in houses I work in.

As expected, Ashley doesn’t show up at the house today, and surprisingly enough, there aren’t any Post-it notes anywhere. I kinda miss those little yellow squares. At least they let me know she was alive.

Okay, I honestly don’t miss them, but at least it was something. Communication. Some form of contact. Which reminds me of the contact we had the other night, and well, that’s not a good train of thought to have while all alone in an empty house. It’s not as if I can sneak away in an empty room to fantasize about her. Her body. The sway of her hips. Her lips. How good they felt on mine. That brief second while she was in my arms, that one moment, everything around me stopped. And now, now I can’t focus. I can’t deal with my head. Everything here reminds me of her. This place, it’s like a giant house built around her. She is here, in all the things she designed.

Thoughts nag at the back of my mind about certain inconsistencies, but I keep burying them back there. I refuse to think about it. About the fact she could have been the one to live here.

My task for today is to finish painting the living room and master bedroom so the carpet guy can come in and install the carpeting in those rooms. All the other rooms have either hardwood or ceramic tiles, which I either installed last week or will be finishing up later this week. This is what I need to concentrate on. Not the way I feel. Not the way my heart yearns for me to speak to her; to hear her voice even if it’s to tell me to go fuck myself.

No, right now, I hope my damn shoulder doesn’t act up, because painting takes a lot of physical effort. Whatever it takes, though, I’m getting this Evans’
job done this week. I won’t go over the given time frame. Especially not now that I’ve possibly molested my employer.

Once I’m done for the day, I head home and have a few more messages from Brad waiting for me at the office. I’d managed to dodge the ones on my cell, but I suppose the landline was free game for him.

“Dude, call me.”
It’s all these messages say. All five of them. He’s nothing if not persistent, I’ll give him that.

Being a pigheaded jerk, instead of calling, I erase each message and unplug the machine.

. . .

On Tuesday, while the carpet installer is inside the house making a racket with his tools, I’m outside adding finishing touches, such as shutters and flower boxes under a few of the windows. I’m no Martha Stewart, but I’ve seen the final elevations. According to Ashley’s drawings, there are supposed to be flowers and flower boxes out here. There’s also some landscaping drawn in, but I can’t do it all myself.

When I call my good friend Lukas, he promises me the best from his perennials. He says he’ll be by later with the list I’ve given him. I’m willingly to take his word for it if he’s able to get it done this week.

With the outside somewhat complete, I smile to myself and wonder exactly how much a home like this must cost. The land alone is probably worth fifty to eighty grand. Get a house this size on here and we’re talking half a million, easily. It makes me wonder who these people really are. Who
he
is. I can’t bring myself to finish that thought. I just can’t. Not until I’ve heard it from her own lips.

This place is beautiful and peaceful and everything I’d like my home to be one day. Once the landscaping is done, it will be absolutely stunning. This is almost exactly what I want for myself, but I know I’ll have to wait, because there is no way in hell I can afford this one. Even if it is for sale, I can’t afford it. Not right now, anyway.

But a man can dream. And I do. Closing my eyes, I imagine myself sitting on the back porch, drinking coffee and looking out onto the water as the sun rises and greets us. And then I think of Ashley, coming out the back door, wearing only my flannel shirt and holding a cup of coffee in her hands.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I open my eyes. These dreams of mine feel as though they’re millions of miles away. Add Ashley to the equation and it’s as if I’ll never be able to reach them.

With a final groan, I go inside the house and grab my list, ticking off what’s been done today. I notice one of those things is noted as “Talk to Ashley.” Sadly, I can’t tick this one off.

Hopefully tomorrow. Maybe.

. . .

“Ma, I’m fine, I promise,” I say, once I’m inside her house. I haven’t been here in about a month and she keeps going on about me losing weight. Apparently, I’m not eating enough, which is strange because I’m sure I eat plenty.

“You know, I’m sure Carole is a good cook and all, but you need to come eat with us once in a while, too.” Mom’s guilt trips are epic and so is her chicken pot pie.

I run a hand through my hair. “We broke up, Ma.”

“He couldn’t handle Stalker McStalkerson,” Mitchel teases as he walks inside the house. It’s Dad’s birthday and Mom has invited us over for a surprise birthday dinner.

I roll my eyes and look at Mom’s raised eyebrows. “That wasn’t why
I
—
”

“Look, I don’t need to know the details, honey, but you could have told me.” Her no-nonsense way about things is what I love about her, but it’s also what I hate. I know she wasn’t attached to Carole, but she’s made it no secret how she would love for me to settle down.

“I know, I’m sorry, Ma. I just didn’t think about it,” I explain, making sure to bring out some of the charm I know she loves so much.

She puts a hand on my cheek and asks, “Are you okay, though?” Her eyebrows are pinched together, and the concern in her eyes is exactly what I was afraid of. She shouldn’t feel sorry for me. Not really.

“I’m not upset, actually.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for a hug. I’m a mama's boy, and I’d hate for her to think I’m bothered by the breakup. “Trust me, Ma. I’m great. Carole and I were just not meant to be together, is all.”

She tightens her hold on me for a few moments, then pulls out of my embrace, her hand going back to my cheek and her eyes focused on my face. “You’re my baby, you know? I only want you to be happy, sweetie.”

Just as she says this, Mitchel comes back outside with a couple bottles of beers in his hands. “He’s got a crush on his boss lady.” He laughs and hands me one. “And from what I gather, she’s not pushing him away, either.”

“Asshol
e
—
shut up, man.” I shove him some and open my bottle, giving a good swig while that brother of mine laughs his ass off.

“Language, boys,” Mom reprimands, steppinginside the house. The amount of times we’ve heard her say those exact words escapes me. At my age, it makes me smil
e
—
memories of me and Mitchel as little kids, running through my mind.

“Mom’s got a point though, bro,” Mitchel says, when we take a seat next to the barbecue. I know he’s right, but that doesn’t mean it’s any of his business. It’s actually none of anyone’s business. They may all mean well, but my ass is too stubborn to listen to any of them, something they should already know.

Eliza, Mitchel’s wife, who also happens to be Brad’s sister, is inside the house setting up some sort of dessert. I’m happy to be relegated to barbecue watch out here rather than subjected to the two of them together. Mom and Eliza have some sort of female superpower when it comes to me. It’s as if I can’t keep anything to myself when I’m around them. I dodged a bullet by going around the side of the house when I got here.

“Look, man, I know you all have some secret plans about having me married off with a few kids running around before I turn forty, but keep your noses out of it.” I flip a few burgers and take a deep breath before continuing. “My boss lady—” I turn to him and make air quotes around the words “—is way out of my league, all right? She’s...she’s...”

“She’s a single woman clearly attracted to you,” Eliza says, patting my shoulder as she walks past me to put a bowl of salad on the table. Turning to me, she leans against the side of Mitchel’s chair, her eyes assessing and her arms crossed over her chest.

I flip a burger and check if it’s done. “Look, I know I screwed up. Nothing should have happened. She’s my employer, for fuck’s sake.”

Eliza rolls her eyes. “Semantics. She’s a designer and you’re a contractor. It’s a marriage made in heaven, so to speak. Stop being so negative.”

“I’m just saying it the way it is.” Taking the burgers off the grill, I’m careful not to burn myself. “She’s recently divorced and a mess. I don’t want to deal with that.”

Mitchel shakes his head. “Excuses, excuses, man. You’re full of shit.”

“Language, boys,” Dad says, making his way across the yard.

“Happy birthday, Dad.” I stick my tongue out at Mitchel like we used to do as boys, and walk toward my father.

His arms come around me in a bear hug, and I revel in the comfort it brings me. I’m a mama's boy at heart, but my dad’s affection for us boys has been something I’ve never taken for granted.

“Thanks, son. Glad you made it out.” He squeezes my shoulder and gives me a pointed look.

When his arms loosen from around me, Mitchel takes my place wishing him a happy birthday as the two exchange pleasantries.

Mom comes out with a cake and we all sing happy birthday. It’s a big party and I end up staying longer than expected. We talk about random things, and thankfully nobody brings up Ashley or my love life.

By the time I make it home, I’m beat from being out in the sun for too long and emotionally drained from being around my happy family while my heart aches for something it may never have.

. . .

Wednesday I get a call from Brad. He leaves a message telling me he needs help moving a large piece of furniture into its new home. I don’t want to leave him hanging and this shit between us needs to be settled, like right now. Bros before hos has been our motto since we were little kids, and it’s not going to stop just because we’re older and a little bit wiser.

Not that Ashley’s a ho or anything, but I digress.

“Look, I know you’re not happy, man,”
he says as soon as he answers the phone, bypassing any sort of greeting.

“Hello to you, too,” I reply sarcastically. I hate call display, but I guess it does have its uses. After all, it did help with the whole Carole fiasco.

I hear him huff out a breath at the other end of the line.
“Look, can we talk?”

“If I wasn’t ready to talk, I wouldn’t have called,” I state flatly. Maybe Eliza’s right; maybe Brad and I were women in a past life.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, all right? I didn’t know anything and man, that chick likes you. I don’t get why you had to leave her there like that. I thought you had a hard-on for that woman, dude. What gives?”
Brad usually isn’t the most talkative guy, but hearing him string together more than four word sentences gets me thinking.

I run a hand through my hair and close my eyes, sighing as I have a seat outside in my backyard. “You’re right. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.” I take a deep breath and try to think of a million other different ways that night could have ended, and for the life of me, all of them seem better than what happened. “You’re not off the hook, man.”

He chuckles.
“You’re not there either. It’s her project; you’re her employee. You two will have to face each other at some point.”

I take a deep breath, wishing I hadn’t smoked my last cig about an hour ago and hoping I can go grab a pack later. “Yeah. She’s not answering my calls, so maybe I really did screw this one up beyond repair.”

“D.J., man, all I have to say is talk to that woman. She’s been through a lot. Maybe the two of you have more in common than you think.”
It’s obvious he knows more than he lets on, but I know I won’t be able to get it out of him. Brad is as loyal as they get, and whatever secrets he and Laurie have concerning me and Ashley, there is no way he’ll ever tell.

“I will,” I promise, and I mean it. I will talk to her at one point, whether she wants to or not.

. . .

Thursday morning flies by as I install all the remaining baseboards throughout the house. I also make sure the kitchen and bathrooms are spotless, and the shelving we installed in the office and living room are dust free.

After lunch, there is a knock on the door. My heart races and a shiver runs down my spine. It’s her. It has to be. She usually walks right in, but seeing as we haven’t talked in some time, maybe this is her being formal. Who knows and who cares? She’s here. The thought makes my face break out in a grin as I take a deep breath and I make my way to the door.