by Nicola Marsh
I would’ve liked nothing better to spend another night with her, but the special accom home had rung earlier in the afternoon, saying Mum was having a rare good day if I wanted to visit.
I couldn’t say no. And I didn’t want to tell Dani the whole story about Mum, so I’d compromised. Dinner before visiting.
But now that visit was over, the best I’d had in a while, and I wanted to see Dani. Wanted to explain. Because the very fact I’d mentioned her to Mum meant she was more than a passing interest.
I may not need the distraction but we’d moved way past that. After last night, it would be even more impossible to get Dani out of my head so the smart thing to do would be discuss where we were at.
Because the friendship she wanted? And the distance I’d wanted? Had combusted in a big way the minute we’d had sex.
I wasn’t a complete dickhead. I knew why Dani had shut down. She’d thought I’d been ditching her to visit some other chick. Which meant I had to make a grand gesture and do something I never did: invite her to my place.
I slipped my mobile out of my pocket and fired off a quick text.
WE SKIPPED DINNER SO HOW ABOUT SUPPER AT MY PLACE?
She made me wait a whole ten minutes before responding and in that time I alternated between relieved and manically disappointed.
OK
Short and sweet but I fist-pumped the air.
After firing back my address, I glanced around the tiny two-room bedsit part of a dual occupancy terrace house and wondered what Dani would think.
Though she wasn’t snobby in the slightest, she came from A-list Hollywood parents who had mega bucks. Would she take one look at this dive and think I was a loser?
Then my gaze landed on a photo of Mum and I at the Spring Racing Carnival, one of the last functions we’d attended together before the dementia had kicked in hard.
Dani wouldn’t have to think anything if I told her the truth. About Mum. About my paintings. About everything.
Was I ready to take that big a risk?
Guess I’d soon find out.
Chapter 13
DANI
Looked like my stupidity knew no bounds.
I’d run from Ash for one reason.
I was in too deep.
For me to react the way I did over him not wanting to spend the night with me because he had other plans? A huge flashing neon sign that I needed to get a life. One that didn’t involve obsessing over the hot Aussie with chocolate brown eyes and a smile that could convince me to do anything.
So rather than ignoring his text message or saying I couldn’t make it, I’d spent an inordinate amount of time showering, shaving my legs, lathering body lotion and choosing a suitably casual outfit.
I’d then followed my cell’s map instructions to his place, pedaling Clarice like a crazy person.
Yep, definitely stupid.
The more time I spent with Ash, the further I’d fall. That much was obvious. But I wanted to know why he’d cut his visit to the mystery woman short—yeah, I was making a lot of assumptions but it had to be a woman—and if his invitation for supper was because he had an undying need to spend every spare minute with me, like I did with him, or if he just felt guilty for blowing me off earlier.
Either way, I wouldn’t get any answers loitering at his front door.
I took a deep breath, released it, and knocked. Didn’t surprise me that he lived in a semi-detached house in the back streets of Carlton. Most of the university staff lived close to the campus. But the general disrepair of the place did. The front house looked ready for knockdown and Ash’s place didn’t look much better. Paint peeled off the weatherboards, moss stained the guttering and the rickety screen door swung on one hinge.
I’d never been hung up on appearances or ownership of things, but to see Ash living like this rammed home how much of a rich bitch I really was. I’d taken so many things for granted growing up. Especially over the last three years, when I’d been content to live off my trust fund and squander cash on a crappy lifestyle. Wasting money on getting wasted. Pathetic.
Yet here was a guy busting his ass working to support his art, content to live in a dump, because there was more to life than designer shoes and A-list parties.
The door opened and I couldn’t breathe. Ash had that effect on me. He’d changed into cargo shorts and an olive green T-shirt that molded to his chest. A chest I’d kissed and licked and explored in minute detail.
"Hi," I finally managed, sounding like I’d inhaled helium.
"Glad you came." He ushered me inside and shut the door, like he was afraid I’d run again. "Hungry?"
"Yeah," I said, though food was the furthest thing from my mind.
"Good, because my macaroni and cheese is guaranteed to put hairs on your chest."
"Uh … okay," I said, not having the faintest idea what he meant.
My clueless expression must’ve been a giveaway because he laughed. "Means it’s hearty."
I swiped my forehead in mock relief. "Phew. You had me worried for a minute."
"Take a seat, I’ll dish up and pour the wine." He paused, glanced around the room with a grimace. "We have to eat in here on our laps. Sorry."
"Don’t apologize. This place is cozy."
He snorted. "Code for grungy rat hole."
"I like it and want to know why?" I crossed the room in three strides to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Because it’s yours and you’ve let me in."
We both knew I was talking about more than these four walls.
"Back in a sec." He brushed a soft kiss across my lips and I lowered my hand with reluctance.
I needed an anchor because when he kissed me? I definitely swooned a little.
God, I was turning into such a girl. If any of the party peeps I hung out with in LA saw me now, they’d think I’d been abducted by aliens and reinserted on earth as a mutant.
Turning my back on that lifestyle hadn’t been hard. Trying to make something of my life beyond that was.
And that’s what really scared me about my developing relationship with Ash. Was I just hanging around him to take the edge off the constant unsettledness that plagued me? Was I using him?
I’d already fucked up my friendship with Mia, almost to the point of irrevocability. I’d hate to get in too deep with Ash, only to realize I’d swapped one emotional crutch—booze and drugs—for another.
"Here we go." He re-entered the room, balancing two plates on his arm and holding two wine glass stems in the other.
"Let me guess, you’ve worked part time as a waiter before."
He nodded. "There’s always waiter work in Lygon Street."
"How do you people in Melbourne stay skinny? Between all these incredible foodie streets you have, I’m surprised you’re all not this big." I held my arms wide.
"We work it off."
He’d proved just how effective his workout could be last night.
"Wait ‘til you see the laneways of the CBD. Best cafés ever." He placed our wine glasses expertly on the table, before taking the plates off his arm.
"Is that an invitation?"
"Only if you’re good." His wicked smile indicated he knew exactly how good I could be. "Now, let’s eat."
I rarely ate carbs in LA but looked like my new life in Melbourne included pigging out on pasta. I couldn’t get enough of the stuff and had to admit, Ash’s macaroni and cheese smelled divine.
"So you can cook, huh?" I accepted the plate he offered and my mouth watered, the tantalizing aroma of melted cheese and creamy sauce tickling my nostrils.
"Gourmet all the way." He sat next to me, balancing his plate on his knees. "Macaroni and cheese. Omelets. Salads."
"Bachelor basics 101."
"Uh-huh."
Our conversation stalled as we forked pasta into our mouths. Which was lucky, because his mac and cheese tasted every bit as good as it smelled, and I ended up shoveling the lot into my mouth as fast as I could.
"That was amazing,
" I said, reaching for my wine at the same time he did. "Compliments to the chef."
I raised my glass in his direction and he clinked it.
"Anytime."
I took a sip of wine. "Considering I’ve been existing on takeout, I might take you up on that."
Rather than continue our banter, he took my empty plate, stacked it on his and placed them on the cloth-covered coffee table that could be a few crates by the shape.
"Can I ask you something?" He picked up his wine, swirled it around.
I nodded. "Shoot."
"Did you bolt earlier because you thought I was seeing someone else?"
Uh-oh. Not exactly the conversation I wanted to have.
"Look, Ash, we’re friends, so who you visit on a Saturday night isn’t any of my business and—"
"I was visiting my Mum."
Lucky he couldn’t hear my inner whoop of jubilation. Then again, should I be concerned by a guy who’d rather spend a Saturday evening with Mommy than in bed with me?
"She has dementia." He sounded so forlorn I wanted to hug him. "It’s not public knowledge so I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."
"My only friend is you so who’d I tell?" Pretty lame joke when he looked so grave.
"It’s increasingly rare she has good days, days when she recognizes me, so when the home rang I had to go."
Wow. She was in a home. Which made me feel like a prize bitch for making that sarcastic Mommy comment, even in my own head.
"She’s in a home?"
He nodded, worry clouding his eyes. "A special accommodation. She has a room, with round the clock medical care if needed. Meals, activities, and all the therapies onsite." He swirled his wine some more. "It’s upmarket, more like a hotel than a home, which I think is important considering she’s not that old."
Interesting. When he’d said his mom had dementia, I’d assumed she had Ash late.
As if reading my thoughts, he added, "She’s sixty-three. Had me when she was forty." He placed the wine glass on the table. "It’s alcohol induced dementia."
"Oh." An inadequate, dumbass response but I didn’t know if I should say sorry or not.
"I already told you she was an actress, right?"
I nodded.
"When I came along, surprise of the year, her roles dried up. And I curtailed her party lifestyle." His bitterness was audible. "So not only did her work suffer but her friends weren’t around much anymore."
He glanced away, guilt twisting his mouth. "It was a gradual process so by the time I started school, she was partying on her own. A couple of glasses of wine at lunch, a cocktail or two before dinner, a bottle of vodka after."
I touched his hand, trying to convey my support when I knew my words would be inadequate.
"She wasn’t drunk all the time. We did loads of fun stuff together and she always had dinner on the table for me every night." He slowly raised his gaze to mine, his pain making me ache to comfort him. "Things got progressively worse in my teens. Her personality changed. One minute she’d be Mum, the next she’d be aggressive and paranoid. She started to forget things, all the time. She couldn’t get organized any more, couldn’t plan anything, and socially she was a wreck. Then things got really bad when she couldn’t learn her lines any more …"
He shook his head. "It reached a stage two years ago when I couldn’t leave her alone in the house for fear she’d harm herself or accidentally burn the place down, so she underwent a full medical assessment and the team recommended she be cared for in a special accom."
I had no idea how the medical system worked in Australia but in the US, if you didn’t have insurance, you were screwed. I hoped for Ash’s sake that his mom’s medical bills were taken care of.
"Sounds like you’ve both been through a lot."
He nodded, turned his hand over, and threaded his fingers through mine. "I wanted you to know because" —he cleared his throat— "because Mum’s a big part of my life. A huge responsibility. So if I rush off to visit her at odd hours it’s not because I don’t care about you, it’s because she may be having a good day and I don’t want to miss out on that."
Ash cared about me. He cared.
I should be ecstatic. I should be clambering all over him and hugging the life out of him for caring about someone like me.
But all I could think was, no matter how much I wanted this and how much I liked him, being involved with someone as good as Ash could ultimately be bad. For both of us.
Because I knew the closer we got, I’d end up having to tell him the truth and I couldn’t bear for him to look at me with derision rather than tenderness.
He squeezed my hand. "Say something."
What could I say, other than I’m the last person he should depend on in any emotional capacity.
But I didn’t say that. I couldn’t. Not when he was staring at me like he’d just handed me his heart. Which he had in a way, because now I knew about his mom, I knew what made Ash so serious. He had to deal with stuff I barely understood. And by the looks of his home, plus where his mom lived, he probably had financial worries too.
My head said I should leave him alone. He had enough to deal with without getting involved with me.
My heart? Had already rolled over.
"I’ll be honest, I was jealous when you said you were visiting someone else tonight. Which pretty much tells me I care about you too." I wrinkled my nose. "But I’m a bad bet, Ash. I’m okay with us having a casual thing while I’m in Melbourne but I’m not a relationship person."
"Good thing I’m not either," he said, with a half-hearted laugh. "But I’ll let you in on another secret. I can’t remember the last time I had a date. I don’t have time for anything other than work and Mum. And I never bring anyone here. So the fact you’re here? Speaks volumes."
The way he was staring into my eyes? No words were needed. But I had to ask the one question that was really bugging me, the one I’d never asked anyone else because my expectations had always been low.
"What do you want from me?"
"I want to be with you." He released my hand to cup my face, his thumb softly stroking my bottom lip. "No expectations. No time frames. Just you and me making each other feel good."
Nice in theory but I knew the longer I hung around him, the further I’d fall.
"What do you say?"
I should’ve said no.
I should’ve scared him off once and for all by telling him the god-awful truth.
I should’ve taken a stand before we both got in too deep.
Instead, I closed the short gap between us to whisper against the side of his mouth, "I say yes," a second before I kissed him.
Chapter 14
DANI
The moment I’d agreed to hang out with Ash, casually or otherwise, I knew this would be inevitable.
Me doing tequila shots in some seedy Melbourne bar with a group of fellow art students I should probably avoid. A small faction of my course that skipped lectures, flunked assignments and partied hard. Very hard.
They were the crew I’d blown off when I’d first started because I’d been there, done that, still detoxing to prove it.
They weren’t conducive to my new life: study hard, stay clean and hang out with sensible Ash.
Which is exactly why I was here, downing my fifth shot.
Because hanging out with Ash was scaring the shit out of me.
It had been two weeks since he’d told me about his mom. Two weeks since I’d ended up spending the entire weekend with him. Holed up in his bed. Strolling Carlton hand in hand. Buying gourmet cheese and dips at the Queen Victoria Market. Visiting the zoo. Watching an Aussie Rules footy team train while feeding each other chips and donuts. Doing nauseating couple things that didn’t make me feel so sick.
What had I done? Avoided him since. For three long weeks. Been polite via text and email, but determinedly keeping my distance. And when the party crowd asked me out? I accepted. Four times.
The first
time I’d avoided a hangover. The second, I’d avoided having sex with the lead singer in a band. The third, I’d avoided accepting a hit of E. The fourth? The night was young.
"So Dani, how hard do you want to par-tay?" Rick, the ringleader of the flunkies, draped an arm over my shoulder. In the past, I would’ve flirted. Now, he made my skin crawl. "Because our chief supplier just texted me and he’ll meet us ASAP. You in?"
It would be so easy to say yes. So easy to lose myself in the mistakes of my past. To slip into a way of life that was easy to forget.
Because ultimately that’s what I wanted to do. Forget.
Forget what I’d done. Forget the pain. Forget everything.
"Come on, babe, you know you want to." Rick leaned in close, his lips grazing my ear, and I actually flinched.
"I’ve got a paper due tomorrow. Rain check?" I shrugged out of his embrace and pasted a bright smile on my face, wondering if the nausea rolling over me was a result of the alcohol I’d imbibed or a result of how he was leering at me.
"I’ll hold you to that." He cocked a thumb and forefinger in a gun shape and mock-fired.
Loser.
I made my escape, dodging stumbling patrons and writhing bodies on the dance floor, the boom of the bass reverberating through me.
I’d thrived on this scene once. Had made an art form of scoping the worst guy in the place and going home with him.
I could do it now. Get Ash out of my system once and for all. And start again on my plan for a new life, this time without being plagued by constant doubts: was I stringing him along? Was I doing the right thing? Was I heading for the ultimate fall?
Losing my baby had almost killed me. Several times, if I count the numerous nights I’d woken up in a stranger’s house, too wasted to care.
I’d vowed never to allow myself to care about anything or anyone as much again. Because loss was inevitable and the next time, I might not survive.
I stumbled out of the club, knocking over a pole leading to the roped off area.
"Drunk bitch," the bouncer said, glaring at me as he righted it.
I could’ve taken him on. Could’ve shoved him, slapped him, or kneed him in the balls. Done that in the past too.
