by Jean Oram
Changed because of him. But she wasn’t the only one with a life change.
“I’m upset because you kept this from me,” he said. “There might have been something I could have helped with sooner.”
“There wasn’t.” She stared him straight in the eye. “I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you in sooner. I’ve been dealing with things and I just…”
That was a poor excuse and they both knew it.
Ashton headed for the door. “I’ll let you know if my plan will cover the baby’s surgery. I expect to get custody during all holidays and weekends, if not more.”
“Ashton.”
The plea in her voice made him pause as he opened the door to leave. He found that she’d followed him, her face more pale than ever.
“You should rest.”
“I know.” Her eyelids drifted shut as she inhaled, as though bracing herself. “Our baby isn’t doing well because I have a rare disorder—it’s not genetic.” She looked at her hands, her face a mask of grief as she said, “I’m sick, Ashton. You’ll be getting full custody.”
One look at her complexion and Ashton didn’t have to ask why.
* * *
ZOE
* * *
Zoe ran toward her ringing cell phone. She stubbed her toe on a box full of books, and clutched it while hopping toward her bed, falling onto the mattress as she grabbed for her phone before it went to voice mail.
It was Ashton. At long last. He’d sent a text on Saturday night saying he wouldn’t be back until Sunday.
It was Sunday night.
“Are you home? How did it go?”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Ash?” Zoe had ordered pizza as per their Sunday night pizza-and-movie tradition, and since she hadn’t heard from him, she expected him to pop over at their usual time, which was in approximately ten minutes.
“I’m sorry, I need to stay a little longer.”
“In Charleston? Are things okay?”
“Things are more complicated than I’d expected,” he said carefully, his voice strained.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m still figuring it out.”
“Do you want to talk it through with someone?”
“I’m tired.”
They were silent for a moment.
“I bumped into the Realtor at Sweet Caroline’s,” Zoe offered. “She says the town house’s price is likely to drop soon.”
“I can’t afford a house right now.” Ashton’s tone was sharp.
Zoe opened her mouth, but couldn’t think what to say, taken so off guard by his tone.
Something was definitely wrong, and her inner fears were screaming that it was her. It was like she’d taken him scuba diving, but hadn’t allowed him enough time to regulate his air pressure before they rapidly descended into the watery depths. They’d gone too deep, too quickly, and he was struggling.
“If things are moving too fast…”
The doorbell rang and she went to answer it, Houdini hot on her tail.
“Things are crazy here,” Ashton said, “and I’m tired and I need to get my head on straight. I didn’t mean to snap. I’ll talk to you in a day or two, all right?”
“When will you be home?”
“I don’t know. Just…carry on without me.” He ended the call.
Carry on without him?
Zoe was standing in the entry of her home, staring at her silent phone. What was happening?
The Ashton she’d just talked to wasn’t the one she knew, and a part of her wanted to drive to the city, track him down and demand a proper answer. The wiser part of her told her to be patient and give him space.
The doorbell rang again and she jumped.
“Hey, Zoe.”
“Hey.” She paid Trenton, the usual Sunday night deliveryman, for the pizza.
“Ashton here?”
She shook her head.
“You break up?”
She looked up from the warm box he’d transferred into her hands. The bottom was already damp from the pizza’s heat. “No, why?”
The man shrugged. “He’s always here Sunday night.” He stepped off the porch. “Tell him I owe him five bucks—that trick on helping Tyson sound out words worked wonders.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him.”
She closed the door and shoved the pizza into the fridge without taking a slice.
What was she going to do about Ashton? Before she launched into ways to meddle in his life, she reminded herself to chill out, relax, have some faith. Guys didn’t like to be pushed to talk about their feelings. Even if Ashton seemed to be different, at their root, men were men; if you pushed and pried they withdrew. And Ashton was doing that. He was shutting her out, which meant she had to tread carefully or she’d push him away even further—like she had with her ex-fiancé, who’d left her minutes after their rehearsal supper, thanks to her insistence that he resolve the stressful, ongoing fight between him and his younger brother. It had been creating tension during the party and she’d begged him to do something. He had. He’d dumped her.
And her high school sweetheart? Well, when they’d started talking about their futures he’d begun to withdraw, finally snapping at her that he was too young to be pressured into marriage. He’d left town the next day.
Ashton’s behavior was unexpected, and she longed to help shoulder whatever was burdening him. But she’d also learned the hard way that the only way to keep Ashton was to fight her instincts and butt out.
* * *
ASHTON
* * *
Ashton paced the small apartment in Charleston. He’d slept on Maliki’s couch for the past few days, and now he moved like a caged animal, eager to be set free. The room was cramped, the air conditioning barely strong enough to take the edge off the cloying city heat. It was too dark, too…too… He felt trapped.
He longed for Indigo Bay. For his own apartment. For Zoe.
The longer he was here, the less real their idealistic, easy relationship felt.
He loved her. He knew that. He knew it was real.
But it no longer seemed like it was even possible. Their relationship felt too simple in the face of everything he’d gone through here in the city over the past few days. And Zoe, the most patient woman he knew, was starting to lose it over the phone. Instead of encouraging him to talk—which he wasn’t quite ready to do, for fear of hurting her somehow with the mess of thoughts running through his head, or worse, have her convince him to give in to his secret wishes and to walk away from the baby and all it’s upcoming needs—she’d begun to go silent.
Zoe. Silent.
She wasn’t encouraging him to express his fleeting thoughts, wasn’t helping him find the right path, like she had over whether to pursue a master’s degree, or over which car to lease.
She seemed almost indifferent. As though she’d put up a wall to keep him out.
Their relationship wasn’t strong enough for this, and she didn’t deserve a mess, or a man who would be splitting his attention for the next year or even longer.
Maliki came home from her waitressing job, entering the apartment with slow steps. He worried once again what impact her physical issues might be having on the baby. She needed to take time off, rest more, but she couldn’t afford to.
To prevent her from overdoing it, Ashton had been encouraging her to put her feet up in the evenings while he did the shopping, cooking and cleaning. He feared he would soon resent spending his summer vacation helping Maliki, as he wished he was with Zoe, helping her, having a baby with her.
“Hi,” Maliki said, dropping her purse on a chair at the kitchen table.
“Are you thirsty? Can I get you some water?” Ashton offered.
She looked lifeless, her skin drained of vitality. Since her pregnancy, she’d had to go off some of her illness-regulating medications, and the effect, compared to a few months ago, was astounding. Back then he hadn’t even been aware she had h
ealth issues.
“I’ve been peeing every half hour. Everything I drink goes right through me.” She smiled, not put off by his nagging. “Thank you for doing laundry.” She rested a hand on a stack of fluffy towels, still warm from the dryer that was located a few floors above the apartment.
“I wished you’d called me sooner so I could help out more.”
“It wouldn’t change anything. I was doing fine until a few weeks ago.”
Ashton chewed on his bottom lip, hands on his hips. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he went back to Indigo Bay. The very idea felt like a death sentence to their unborn child.
He shuddered at the thought. Maliki and the baby needed help. Unfortunately, neither he nor Maliki could afford to hire someone. It was fine now, as he had summer holidays, but in less than a month he’d be back at work and there’d be nobody to care for her. With them unwed, he couldn’t even take a paid leave to stay with her.
“Did you add any names to the baby list?” she asked, sitting at the kitchen table. She glanced up at the notepaper stuck to the fridge. “I hope you didn’t cross off Sophie. I love that name.”
“I didn’t even think about names today.” Whenever he tried, he simply wasn’t able to think, hope or dream about their unborn child. “I heard back from the insurance company.” He’d been hounding them for an answer for days.
“What did they say?” she asked, hope lighting her expression.
“They won’t cover you because of the preexisting medical condition, but they’ll cover most of the birth, since a C-section is for the baby’s well-being, and she’s my dependent. They’ll also cover 80 percent of her surgeries.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Maliki let out a long breath of relief.
Ashton had to sit down and draw a deep breath. It felt awful to be talking about money and insurance coverage when two lives were hanging in the balance.
Early in Maliki’s pregnancy she’d been presented with the choice of either terminating it and saving her own life by continuing her medications—which weren’t safe for the baby—or stopping them and continuing with her pregnancy. She’d chosen the baby’s life over her own, even knowing that nine months without medication made it unlikely she’d survive beyond the baby’s first year.
The fact that she’d had to make that choice and had chosen their child left Ashton shaking with emotion. It was unfair. Unjust. And there was nothing he could do but be there for the two of them, try to keep things together, and give the baby and her mother the best possible chance.
“Supper’s in the slow cooker,” he said, feeling the need for air, space, anything but be here where impending death and sadness lingered like an unwanted guest. “It’ll be ready at five thirty. I need to run out and pick up some lettuce.”
“Thank you,” Maliki said, reaching over to rest a cool hand on his. “For everything.”
“I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do.”
“You’re a good man. You’ve already done so much for us.”
He was unable to speak, stuck to the spot on the old, worn floor. He’d offered so little compared to her sacrifices. He couldn’t imagine making such an impossible choice like she had. She’d given up everything for their daughter, for him. She would barely get to know her own child, and surely wouldn’t be remembered.
She’d given so much, and he was going to walk away with a precious, wonderful child.
Maliki reached up to wipe the wetness from his cheeks with a sad smile. “It’s all going to work out as it’s supposed to.”
He stood, a sudden strength of conviction running through him. “Marry me.”
She gave a start. “What?” she asked softly.
“It makes perfect sense.”
“We don’t love each other.”
“That doesn’t matter. I could take a paid leave to care for you. My medical plan would cover things neither of us can afford such as your obstetrician appointments. Now until you have the baby. And then medical needs afterward, too.” There would certainly be a lot of those for both the baby and Maliki, and financially it was more than he could bear.
“That’s insurance fraud.”
“We’re having a baby together, Maliki. Who’s going to question marriage?”
Zoe would. Otherwise, nobody.
“My conditions are pre-existing.”
“I know, but being married will help with other things, too.” As her husband, he’d have more rights and be able to help more.
Maliki inhaled sharply as she comprehended that he was referring to end-of-life scenarios where as her husband he could avoid legal battles and permissions to take care of things. She rested the tips of her fingers on the end of her nose as tears filled her eyes. She nodded.
He swallowed hard, hating himself for bringing up her mortality—the one thing she must be trying to outrun.
“Forget I said anything,” he said.
“No.” She began crying. “You’re right. And I don’t want this baby to feel like I did, growing up. I want her to feel like she had a family, that she didn’t have one more mark against her because her mom and dad weren’t married and never lived together. I want her to think she was loved. That her life was normal and perfect before her mother…before I…”
“She will be loved. Her life will be incredible.”
Maliki sobbed, falling against his shoulder, wetting it with her tears.
“Everything will go to you,” she said quickly. “There’ll be no dispute over custody. Nobody will fight you, and you can give her the life she deserves.” She grabbed his shirt, her expression pleading. “Please, Ashton. Promise me that.”
“There won’t be a fight. I’m her father.”
This was the right thing to do. The right thing to do for the mother of their child. The right thing for their daughter.
“We can do this, Maliki. For our baby girl.”
She leaned against him even harder. “Thank you.”
“Consider it done.” And as Ashton helped her to bed so she could rest, he tried hard not to think of the woman he truly wanted, the one who had captured his heart back in Indigo Bay.
* * *
ZOE
* * *
Zoe hadn’t seen Ashton since last Friday night and had barely slept a wink since then.
Something had changed. He’d called her from the city hours ago, asking to talk at long last, and she’d been pacing her small home as she waited into the late hours of the night for his arrival.
When his car’s headlights finally appeared and he parked on the street, she went to the door, wondering where they would be next spring. Before talk of buying a house together, he’d promised to landscape her yard. The bushes around the place needed care and attention, and he’d planned a gazebo in the back so she could read in the shade on the weekends while sipping cold drinks.
But that promise had fallen to the wayside, replaced by something even better. But as Ashton turned off his car, she shivered, knowing instinctively what was coming. Despite saying he wanted to talk, he’d withdrawn, holding back pieces of his life, no longer letting her in.
He was going to ask for more space. He was going to break up with her.
Ashton got out of his car, his movements so unlike those she recognized that for a moment she thought it was someone else. He looked as though the weight of the world was dragging him under, as though he was pulling a boat ashore, back bent, each step an effort as he came up the walkway.
“Want to come in?” she asked.
With one hand clutching the thin metal railing, he paused.
“Ash?” she said, when he didn’t reply. Finally he looked up, his expression etched in pain.
She flew down the steps, halting in front of him, stopping herself from reaching out when he shook his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where have you been?” she asked. “Is everything okay? I’ve been so worried.” She backed up a step, then another one. “You look like you could use a se
at. And maybe a stiff drink.”
Maybe he wasn’t here to ask for space. Maybe something tragic had happened.
He didn’t follow her, and she stood halfway up the porch steps, uncertain where to go, what to do, what to say.
“I have to leave Indigo Bay.”
“Is everything okay?”
A cool breeze blew up the street from the ocean and she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.
“I know this seems sudden,” he said, his voice hollow.
“Will I see you on weekends? Holidays?”
“I’m going to be busy with some things. I think it’s best we break up.”
Zoe couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t make her body do anything.
Was this what shock felt like? She’d known she was losing him, had known what was going to happen tonight, but somehow it still felt unexpected.
She hadn’t pushed him, hadn’t forced him to open up. It made no sense. None at all.
“Why?” The pain in her own voice made her sit heavily on the step.
His expression was blank, weary.
She struggled to make her mouth work, to ask what had happened in Charleston, what had changed everything so suddenly, so severely. He used to talk to her. They had something special. She couldn’t have imagined it all.
“Ash? Please. Talk to me. I love you.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” He was backing away, close to fleeing as she could sense he wanted, needed to. When he looked up, it was with such pain it choked her. “Zoe, I’m getting married.”
Chapter 1
How many cats make you a cat lady?
Zoe Ward looked at the question she’d typed into the search bar of her work computer’s browser, then slowly backspaced over it with a sigh.
As the owner of five cats, she was fairly certain she was already more than halfway there. But at least her rescued felines hadn’t claimed she was moving too fast when she’d fallen for them. Not that her ex-boyfriend, Ashton Wallace, had actually said that. But enough men in the past had, so she’d understood the signs when he’d suddenly withdrawn despite the way he’d been talking about them moving in together.
