by Iona Rose
“Why not?” I challenge her.
“I just don’t,” she says.
“Is it me you don’t trust Elena, or is it yourself?” I ask with a grin.
She doesn’t return the grin. She just shakes her head. I’ve gone too far and I desperately back track.
“Look it’s just dinner,” I say. “We’ll go to a nice restaurant and eat too much. We’ll talk, maybe laugh a little and that’s it. I promise you that I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”
She still doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t say no either. She looks torn.
“We both feel this chemistry between us. I know we do,” I say. She blushes slightly and again she neither confirms or denies what I’m saying. “I think we owe it to ourselves to have one date and see how we feel about that.”
“One dinner,” she concedes.
I want to punch the air in delight but I resist the urge. Instead I beam at Elena.
“Great,” I say. “We’ll go straight from here if that’s ok?”
She nods her head and I stand up and head for the door.
“It’s just one dinner Ashton,” she says. “As friends. Nothing more. And nothing is going to happen between us.”
I nod my agreement and leave the office with a wide beam. I heard her. I heard her loud and clear. But I’ve waited my whole life for this moment and I’m going to make the most of it. And all I can do is hope that she comes around and sees for herself that we’d be perfect together.
I promised her I wouldn’t do anything she doesn’t want me to do and I meant it. But if she makes the first move like she did last night, I certainly won’t be stopping her.
I go back to my office and pick up the phone. I call through to the secretary’s pool.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Wave. Beatrice speaking, how can I help?”
Great. Beatrice was the last person I wanted to take this call. But it’s not like she’ll know who’s coming to dinner with me. And even if she does, I don’t care. Maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe she’ll finally back off me a bit if she knows I’m dating Elena. Because I’m definitely treating this like a date, even if Elena isn’t quite there yet.
“Hi Beatrice, it’s Ashton,” I start.
Before I can go on, she interrupts, asking me what I need. If she would just shut up and listen, she’d know what I need.
“I need you to book a table for two for six o’clock tonight,” I say. “In that little Spanish place down the street.”
“Of course, Mr. Miller. I’ll get right on that,” she says.
Her tone has changed. She sounds a little pissed off. The restaurant is hardly somewhere I would take a client and Beatrice clearly isn’t happy that I’m going on a date. I really should talk to her about this, but how do I do that without it becoming massively awkward? She’s never said outright that she’s into me, she’s just flirted with me and hinted at it. If I confront her, there’s nothing to stop her playing dumb and turning this around, and before I know it, I’ll have gone from the one being made to feel uncomfortable by her constant flirting with me, to being accused of sexual harassment or something.
“Thank you,” I say and end the call.
Within fifteen minutes, Beatrice appears at my door. I beckon for her to come in, wishing she would just use the phone like a normal person.
“Your table is booked Mr. Miller,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say.
“So,” she says, fiddling with her hair and smiling at me. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
Oh god, please don’t let her think it’s her.
“That would be telling,” I smile.
“Oh Mr. Mysterious,” she laughs. “You really need to learn to gossip more.”
She ducks back out of my office, still laughing and I find myself questioning things with her. Maybe I was wrong and she doesn’t have a thing for me. She certainly didn’t seem to there. Maybe she’s just a natural flirt and I’m reading too much into the situation.
Sandra calls down to my office to let me know that my next meeting is in the conference room and the client is waiting for me and I push all thoughts of Beatrice and Elena and what I hope is going to be one of the best nights of my life to one side and concentrate on the task at hand.
Chapter Twenty
Elena
I still can’t really believe I’m here. I surprised myself by agreeing to come to dinner with Ashton. It was one thing giving into temptation last night, but that was purely physical. This is more than that. This is me making an active choice to spend time with Ashton outside of work.
I should have probably said no, but I have to admit that I’m glad I didn’t. The food here is lovely and we’ve had a lovely time. We’ve laughed a lot and I have found myself relaxing. I’m sure the shiraz has something to do with that, but it’s not just that. It’s Ashton. He’s making me feel comfortable in his presence for the first time. He’s been charming and attentive and I hate to admit it, but I really think I was wrong. It seems people can fundamentally change, because there’s nothing of the mean little boy in this version of Ashton who sits before me tonight.
Our waiter arrives and collects our desert plates and I have to admit that I’m a little upset that our night will soon be over. The waiter returns to our table almost immediately.
“Would you like anything sir or should I fetch you your bill?” he asks.
Ashton raises an eyebrow in my direction.
“Would you like a coffee or a cocktail or anything?” Ashton asks.
“I’d love a latte,” I smile. “If you’re having something.”
I add the last part on quickly. I don’t want to have coffee alone if Ashton would rather call it a night. He smiles at me and then at the waiter.
“We’ll take two lattes please,” he says.
The waiter nods and scurries back away.
“You were right about one thing,” I say. “I’m so stuffed. I need the coffee to help me feel human again.”
“Oh God I know,” Ashton groans. “I think I might complain. They need to make their food less delicious so we can stop eating sooner.”
“Good plan,” I laugh.
The waiter arrives with our lattes. We thank him and I take a sip of mine. It’s just right. Hot but not too hot and lovely and thick and creamy.
“So tell me how you got here,” I smile as Ashton sips his own coffee.
“I just walked down the block Elena. Jeez how much wine have you put away to forget that? You were with me remember?” he says with a twinkle in his eye.
I laugh and shake my head, leaning over the table to give him a playful shove. I feel the tingling in my hand as soon as it makes contact with Ashton and I leave my hand there a second too long. I pull it away quickly before I can let the feeling permeate my body and make me act on my desire to lean across the table and kiss him.
“Seriously, how did Wave come about?” I ask.
“I finished university and I had a couple of offers for jobs. As I was debating between them, it hit me that I didn’t want either of them. I had spent my whole life answering to other people, and I figured it was time to get out there on my own. I turned both of the jobs down and I started my own firm.”
“Just like that,” I smile.
“Just like that,” Ashton agrees. “It was easy to make the decision, but it wasn’t easy getting off the ground. The first few months were tough. Hell the first few years were tough. But it was worth it.”
“What made you choose a tech based business? I don’t seem to remember you being into tech stuff,” I say.
“It was the biggest growing sector at the time. And I got a little more into tech while I was at university,” he replies. “It’s funny because I never pictured you going into the personal assistant thing.”
“What did you picture me doing?” I ask.
“I’m not sure. I just figured you were more of the creative type than the corporate type.”
“Ah so you pictured me bein
g the struggling artist,” I smile.
He laughs.
“I hardly think you’d be struggling. Money was never an issue for you.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I was spoiled,” I laugh. “Seriously though money wasn’t an issue for my parents. And to be fair, I could have talked to my dad and done the artist thing. When I graduated, he wanted to buy me a house and set up a monthly allowance. I said no.”
Ashton raises an eyebrow and I smile.
“I guess we were more alike than we knew. I wanted to follow my own path too. And I knew if I accepted my father’s help, I would always be beholden to him. He wouldn’t have thrown the money back in my face; that was never his style. But I would have always been conscious of it, and I think it would have affected my life in a bad way rather than a good way. I guess I wanted to prove I could make it on my own.”
“It seems you’re doing a good job of that,” he says.
“I’m not so sure that’s true,” I say, the wine making my tongue a little looser than it would normally be. “I had some savings but after I lost my job, I was basically down to one month’s money in the bank. If I hadn’t found this job when I did, I could have lost my house.”
The reality of that hits me and I shudder slightly and make a mental note to up the amount going into my savings each month. I can afford it now.
“And by now, you would have been too proud to go to your parents?” Ashton asks.
I nod.
“I would have done it before I let myself become homeless, but it would have hurt. The worst part about it is I know my parents wouldn’t have tried to make me feel bad for it. They would have quietly made my bills go away and said no more about it. And that’s worse somehow than having them say I told you so.”
“It’s the other way around for me,” Ashton says. “I have all of this money and my mom’s too proud to accept my help. She still lives in the same house I grew up in you know. She works two jobs to support herself. I bought her a house and she refused to accept it. We almost fell out altogether over it. Eventually, I gave in and sold the house. And the day I tried to give her money, she really lost it. I’ve given up trying now. If I push too hard, I’ll lose her for good and I don’t want that.”
“There’s nothing more complicated than family is there?” I say.
“Tell me about it,” Ashton agrees. “At first when my mom wouldn’t take my help, I didn’t understand it, but I think now I do. It’s not just about pride. Her house is tiny, but it’s all hers. She earned it. And while the estate isn’t the nicest estate, it’s full of good, honest people, and my mom is part of a community who gets her.”
“It must be frustrating though,” I say.
“It is. But she’s always been stubborn and I should have known this would be no different.”
“That’s probably how my father feels about me,” I smile. “When he first saw my house, he tried to hide his shock, but it came about when he asked me where the second bathroom was and I had to tell him there was only one.”
“One bathroom? Oh the horror,” Ashton laughs.
“Right,” I laugh back. “Honestly, his face was a picture. I didn’t dare tell him it was only two bedrooms.”
“God no, it could have pushed him right over the edge,” Ashton smiles.
“Can I ask you something personal?” I say.
Ashton nods.
“Why did you change your name?”
“Are you asking if I’m ashamed of who I was?” Ashton asks.
I shrug, a little uncomfortable because in a way I guess I am. Ashton smiles and my discomfort melts away.
“I’m not ashamed of being poor as a child. I am ashamed of some of the things I did,” he says. He looks pointedly at me as he says it and I feel my cheeks flushing. He goes on without pressing it, something I’m relieved about. I don’t want this evening to be ruined by talking about bad memories. “I changed my name when Wave started to take off, because while I wasn’t ashamed of where I came from, I knew how other people saw me back then. The poor kid who would never be anyone. And I didn’t want the name to affect my business if anyone recognised it.”
“Having money or not having money doesn’t define who you are or what you’re capable of,” I say.
“Maybe not,” Ashton shrugs. “But we both know that having money opens doors that people without money don’t even see. And we both know that no one from a rich background would give their business to the poor kid when they could help to make a rich guy richer.”
“You’re bitter for someone who is a rich guy.” I smile.
“Not bitter. Just realistic,” he says.
I can’t argue with him because in some ways he’s right. Privilege is a real thing, and if you don’t have it, then there’s a chance you’ll always be on the outside. Ashton is an exception, but to become one of the elite, he had to leave behind who he used to be. It’s sad really.
“Now enough maudlin talk,” Ashton grins. “I love my life now, and I’m under no illusions. I owe everything I became to my mom. She showed me that hard work makes the man.”
“She sounds like quite a woman,” I say. “It’s a shame I never got to meet her.”
“Maybe you will one day.” Ashton smiles.
I feel a spark of warmth inside of me at that. He really must see this going somewhere. I still don’t really know how I feel about that, but maybe it’s time for me to let go of my past like Ashton let go of his, and not let my teenage years define me. Maybe it’s time for me to change a little and stop holding grudges.
“Yeah maybe,” I smile.
His face lights up and I feel my stomach lurch. I was right. He really did mean meeting his mom as his girlfriend not just as his personal assistant. The conversation moves along and we start sharing funny stories from our university days. We’re both laughing hard enough that tears are streaming down our face when our waiter comes back to the table.
“Excuse me,” he smiles. “I’m just seeing if you would like to order anything before our kitchen closes for the night.”
“Closes for the night?” I repeat, shocked.
I glance at my watch and I’m even more shocked. It’s close to ten thirty. It feels like we’ve only been here an hour at most. The night has really flown by.
“Wow where has the time gone?” Ashton says, echoing my sentiments. “Just the bill would be good please.”
He smiles at me.
“So apparently I’m a bad influence keeping you out on a school night,” he says.
I laugh along with him and the waiter brings our bill. Ashton leaves his money on the table and we get up. We head out of the restaurant, calling out our thanks as we go. We start heading back towards the office where our cars are parked. I quickly work out that we’re ok to drive. We shared a bottle of wine, and that must have been two or three hours ago.
“Have you had a good time Elena?” Ashton asks.
I nod and smile.
“I really have. It felt good to reminisce about university and we’ve had a good laugh. Did you have a good time?”
“The best,” he says quickly.
“It’s funny isn’t it?” I muse. “How well we get on considering how much you hated me at school.”
“What?” Ashton says. “Elena I never hated you. I see why you might have gotten that impression, but honestly, it’s not true.”
“So why where you so intent on making my life hell?” I ask.
I don’t want to ruin the mood of the evening, but if I want to be able to let go of the past, I need closure. And hearing Ashton finally tell me why he was always so awful to me might just give me the closure I need.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ashton
Tonight has gone really well. Even better than I could have hoped it would. Elena and I have laughed and joked and chatted, and it’s always a good sign when you lose track of the time completely. There were no awkward pauses, our conversation just flowed naturally. It felt like we were reall
y clicking together, and I don’t think I was the only one who felt that. Elena visibly relaxed with me as the night went on. But now she’s dropped a major bombshell and asked the question that could make or break the evening completely. And I have a feeling that how I answer the question might make or break how we move forward from here. It feels like a real pivotal moment and for a second, I’m filled with terror that I get this wrong.
In some ways I’m glad she asked why I made her life hell. I want to explain it to her, to make her see that I never saw her as an object of ridicule, that I always saw her as leagues above me. But in another way, I wish she hadn’t brought it up now after such a magical night. I’m not sure I’m ready to be able to explain it properly. But I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that, and I know deep down that if I want Elena to start to trust me, then I have to be honest with her. I have to give her the explanation she’s always deserved. I might fuck it up, but if I don’t at least try to explain it to her, it’s always going to loom between us and it’s always going to keep us from being all in together.
“I never meant to make your life hell,” I start. “I know I did, but I didn’t see it at the time. At least not until it was too late, and by then, I didn’t know how to stop it.”
I know that sounds lame, but essentially, it’s the truth of the matter. I pause, giving Elena a chance to tell me to go to hell, or to say she understands. To say anything really. But she doesn’t say anything. She’s waiting for me to go on. And so I do. I’m going to tell her everything and just hope it’s enough.
“On your first day at Franklin School, you were wearing your hair in two plaits. You always did. You had yellow ribbons tied in them. I noticed those ribbons the second you walked into the classroom. And a second later, I noticed your eyes, your nervous smile. And I was smitten.”
I pause and smile at Elena. She smiles back, a nervous looking smile that reminds me of the smile she wore that day.
“You were smitten with me?” she says quietly. I nod. “My friends always told me you didn’t hate me, that you liked me. But I never saw it. I couldn’t understand how someone who liked me could be so cruel to me.”
