“Will your sister allow it?”
She sighs heavily at my reminder of her sister. “I don’t know that I care. I know that she’s hurting but what she was saying to you this morning wasn’t okay.”
“If it helps, it didn’t bother me.”
I turn to go toward the only grocery store in town, figuring I’ll just take her. That way I can grab a few things I need, plus help her bring her groceries into her house. Then I can take her car to the shop and wash it inside the wash bay we have for our work trucks.
“I’m glad it doesn’t but I’m still going to talk to her. She was in super bitchy mode this morning and you did nothing to warrant it. And what was that about her saying you took advantage of me? Like I can’t hold my own?” she asks, fired up.
I’m definitely in agreement on that one. The way Grace was talking, one would think that Ashley’s not strong enough to make her own decisions. I may have only known her for three months, but I can say with absolute certainty that she’s an incredibly strong person. Maybe no one has told Ashley that, though. If her own sister who doesn’t seem to own a filter says it to someone she’s known for two minutes, I imagine she’s said things very similar directly to Ashley’s face before.
It seems it’s high time someone — me — let Ashley in.
“Yeah. I gotta say, that was harsh. For the record, Ashley? You’re one of the strongest women I know. Maybe you haven’t been told that enough in your life, or maybe Grace was just having a supremely bad day, but she’s wrong. I know I didn’t take advantage of you because I tried apologizing for the exact same thing the next morning and got my ass chewed.” I turn into the grocery store parking lot and find a spot fairly close to the front and park my truck. “You might have tried to change for others in the past, but I know you aren’t doing that with me. You can’t fake the strength that you have.”
“Nik,” she whispers. She does this often, I’ve noticed. When I say something that she’s not sure how to respond to or maybe when she’s emotional, she whispers my name. It isn’t a response, but it is. It’s her letting me know she heard me and is overwhelmed by my words. In a good way. So the non-response? It’s better than anything she could say to me.
“Ready to get those groceries?”
She gives me a confused look then sees where we are. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“I need some groceries, too. Figured it’d be easier if we just went together.”
I tell her the rest of my plan and she stares at me like I’m from another planet.
“You’re going to wash my car?” she questions. “Why?”
“Why not?” I counter, getting out of the truck and meeting her at the hood. “I have a place all set up for it in our shop. It will take me no time at all. Then I’ll bring it back to you. I won’t if you’d rather I not.”
We walk into the store and each grab a shopping cart.
“I don’t think anyone has ever offered to wash my car before. It feels like an over-the-top request, you know?”
“Did you ask me to wash it or did I offer?” I ask her, throwing a package of romaine lettuce into my cart, followed by a container of cherry tomatoes.
She places some berries, bananas, and tomatoes in hers.
“Well, you offered, but I still feel guilty.”
“Don’t. It’s not a big deal.” And it isn’t. I’m surprised that she thinks it is.
We shop for our groceries, and last minute I decide that maybe instead of going out to dinner tonight, I’ll cook for her. Maybe a night in would do us both some good.
“Steaks tonight? I’ll grill. We can hang out at my place. Unless you had your heart set on going out.”
“Actually,” she says quietly before leaning into me, rising up on her toes to kiss my lips, “a night in sounds perfect.”
That’s all it takes. One kiss from her and I’m a goner.
Gone for her.
Chapter Fifteen
Nikolas - Seven Weeks Later
The day we first heard our baby’s heartbeat, I knew I needed to get my shit together when it came to what I wanted from Ashley as far as relationships go. One good thing that came out of my conversation with her sister that day was that I knew something needed to change. I didn’t want Ashley, most of all, to think that I was going to bail on her or that I only cared about the baby.
I had already grown to feel something for Ashley, and even though I wasn’t ready to define what that feeling was, I knew I needed to be more honest with her.
That night I grilled up a couple steaks, she made baked potatoes and a salad, and we sat at my kitchen table and talked for hours. About nothing and everything. We filled each other in on what it was like for us growing up. We bonded over what it’s like to have sisters, even though I only have one and she has to deal with two. We asked hard questions about past relationships and why they failed. We listened to the recording of the heartbeat so many times I thought my phone was going to die. We walked around my house and I showed her what I had done myself as far as remodels and what I hope to do in the future. We went for another walk in the cold.
Before the night was over, we had laid it all out there. What our expectations are of raising this baby, names that are definite no’s, personal goals we hope for our futures. And mainly, I told her I was falling for her.
“I know it might seem like it’s too soon or the timing sucks. But I want you to know that the night we spent together three months ago is the night I felt like I came back to life. I woke up the next day and was mad that I couldn’t remember every detail of the night before. And then I saw you were still with me and I was so grateful that whatever we shared wasn’t over yet.
“When I saw you in the store that day, before I even saw the test in your hand, I knew I was given the gift of a second chance. You’d told me three months. Well, it’s been three months,” I remind her, smirking. “We may have broken that rule along the way but that’s just God’s way of nudging us together, if you ask me. I’m not asking you to marry me or promising anything but I feel deep in my gut that whatever this is between us is a lot more than just chemistry. Though, I’ve gotta say, the chemistry between us is pretty strong.”
“It really is,” she says, from her place on my lap. I pulled her close somewhere between her childhood vacation stories and when I told her our child would not be named Fraser, after Jamie Fraser in Outlander. She tried pouting, even though it was all for show, and I pulled her onto my lap and kissed her. That’s where she stayed and I have no intentions of that changing. At least until after we have this conversation.
“Is that all it is to you? Sexual chemistry?”
“No,” she admits. “I agree with you about wanting to be together to see where this goes between us. But I also think that defining whatever this is could set us back. I like the way things are.”
“Casual, you mean?” I ask, my heart not liking that one bit.
“Not casual, no. I don’t like that idea.” She scrunches her nose, playing with the hair on the back of my neck. She likes to do that, I’ve discovered. Which means I need to keep my hair at this length all the time.