by Jean Oram
“How do I undo that?” she asked, pointing at her mistake.
“You can’t.”
“But I need to unsend it.”
“No can do. Newsletters are like life mistakes. You can’t undo them.”
Zoe sent him with a skeptical, unimpressed look.
“You just have to apologize sincerely,” he said, “and move forward, hoping for the best.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Hoping for the best?”
He wanted to meet her frank, open gaze—he’d always appreciated her directness when they’d been moving fast with their relationship—but right now it felt like a knife nudging at tender bruises. Maybe he wasn’t ready to shoulder the knowledge of just how much he’d hurt her. Maybe he wasn’t ready to forgive himself for making the wrong choice last summer, as well as for excluding her from his decisions for fear of her blowing the legal whistle on his and Maliki’s marriage-for-medical-insurance arrangement.
“Ashton? Is it?” Zoe prodded.
He might not get a second chance to have this conversation.
“Yes,” he said.
“And what if your “hope for the best” differs from what I’m hoping for?” She was looking straight at him, her right hand resting on the computer mouse, her tone gentle despite her bluntness.
“I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should have told you…” He wanted to tell her what she needed to hear, but couldn’t. “I know you wanted me to tell you everything, and I didn’t.”
“It’s too late, Ashton.” She pushed away from the computer. “You made a choice. You didn’t trust me or love me enough to let me in, and that’s an important thing in a relationship.” She was standing over him. “Your actions negated everything you said to me, and spewing sweet nothings now won’t make up for that.”
She stormed off, making Ashton wish he had a time machine so he could go back and make a better choice. The right choice.
Chapter 3
Zoe stopped on the sidewalk in front of her house, unsure whether to march off or stick around and satisfy her curiosity. She’d come by to check on the flood repairs, as well as to dig her picnic basket out of the stuffed portable storage unit the insurance company had placed in her front yard. Whitney from Coastal Creations was hoping to borrow it if Zoe could find it.
But there in her front yard was Ashton, covered in dirt, shovel in hand.
“What are you doing?” Zoe asked.
“Keeping my promise.” He leaned against the shovel, casual and handsome.
The half-dead front hedge that she’d always meant to do something about had been entirely removed. A pickup truck she recognized as belonging to Dallas was piled high with brush and branches.
Of all Ashton’s promises, this wasn’t the one Zoe had set her heart on him keeping.
“Remember our plan?” Ashton pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket, marking the paper with grubby fingerprints. He unfolded the landscaping plan they’d mapped out at her kitchen table the year before.
“You’re going to make me a gazebo, create a rosebush front hedge and a stone walkway?” she asked in disbelief.
He nodded.
She waved toward her damaged house. “The deductible ate my landscaping fund. I can’t afford it.”
And you left me, making all your promises a moot point.
Ashton tucked the piece of paper into his back pocket once again. “Then we’ll wait on the gazebo. I can afford the rest.”
She wanted to reject him outright, send him away, but she held her tongue until the first wave of anger had passed. “You have no right to do this. You are no longer a part of my life, my world.” Her palms hurt, and she realized she’d squeezed her hands into fists, her nails digging into her own flesh.
“I want to do this,” he stated.
“What if I don’t want you buying me roses?” Roses felt romantic, and his gesture was too big, too kind. It was difficult to remain as angry as she wanted to be when he was being so careful, so…Ashton.
“I figured as much. I thought you might prefer camellias, as they’re evergreen, hardy, and bloom while everything else has gone dormant.”
Of course he’d thought out all the angles.
Dejectedly, Zoe stared at her home. The plan for the garden had been to create a haven for her to read in after work, a nice place to eat together when it wasn’t too hot out. But then they’d started talking about moving in together, choosing a bigger house over either of the places they had been living, so they could start a family via fostering or adopting children, as she was past her prime childbearing years. And so they had spun a different dream, abandoning the idea of creating a landscaped paradise in her yard.
A power saw screeched and workers chucked yet more of her home’s interior into the trash bin on the lawn. Why now? How did Ashton believe this was a good time to rip up the one thing in her life that wasn’t in shambles? She couldn’t deal with this. Every time she looked at her house she wanted to cry, and having a ditch where her hedge used to be didn’t help.
She shook her head and turned, walking back toward the Indigo Bay Cottages. He’d left her, left this dream behind. And him taking it up right now only seemed to rub in the fact that she would always live alone in this small bungalow and never a large and boisterous family home.
This wasn’t supposed to be her life. This wasn’t where she’d been hoping to be at age forty-one.
Ashton’s footsteps echoed on the sidewalk as he hurried to catch up with her. She hugged her arms tighter around her torso, bent her head and walked faster.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was afraid you were going to say no if I asked.”
“And why would I ever say yes?” she asked, spinning around to face him. “Don’t you get it? You left me. You walked out on us—on you and me. You chose someone else despite everything we’d talked about.”
He had dirt on his nose, and his eyes were filled with such remorse that she didn’t know whether to shout or cry.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Quit apologizing.”
“I will when I stop screwing up.”
“You’re going to be underfoot until I say I forgive you, aren’t you?”
“I was stupid to leave you.”
“Then why did you? Why did you—” She caught herself and took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Ashton didn’t answer as he used the toe of his shoe to trace a line through the beach sand that had filtered in after the last storm, coating part of the sidewalk. Normally, she would have swept it away by now.
“I missed out on something special when I…” He paused and peeked up at her, his hazel eyes so sincere. “I made the wrong choice even though I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Why? Was she pregnant?” Zoe scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. “No, I don’t want to know.”
The less she knew, the less she had as ammo for torturing herself with what-if’s.
Ashton’s throat was working as though he was struggling to remember how to breathe or talk.
“This isn’t going to cause me to forgive you,” she said, gesturing toward her destroyed yard. “Finish what you started by the time I move back in two weeks, and don’t you dare leave me with a mess. This time follow through on your promises.”
Ashton slammed the shovel into the dry earth. Why couldn’t he get it right? Why couldn’t he just open his mouth and tell her everything like he used to? What was he afraid of? Her running to his medical company and telling them he’d married Maliki for coverage? He’d already done the worst thing he could think of by shutting Zoe out of his life, and by leaving her.
Why had he let her storm away just now? Why hadn’t he told her the truth?
Because he’d rather look like a hurtful ex-lover than a man who had been played like a fool. He’d rather forget the pain of the past, the deception that had caught him in its snare, and move forward, fresh and new. The only way to move on was to leave the
past where it belonged—in the past.
But was he really choosing Zoe’s scorn over pity? It hurt, knowing he’d failed her so spectacularly, and that he still caused her so much pain.
Maybe he should tell the school he couldn’t fulfill the maternity leave contract and go back to Charleston. Let Zoe have some much-wanted peace, and give up on his quest.
He bent over, hands on his knees, the heat of the day suddenly draining him of energy and motivation.
No. He had to finish this job. He needed to show Zoe through his actions that he still cared, and that she was still important to him. Because without her in his life there wasn’t much worth living for. He walked his hands up his thighs, straightening up once again.
“Why are you doing this?”
Ashton gave a start at the unexpected question. Zoe had returned, hands on her hips, brow furrowed.
She’d come back, like the second chance he’d been wishing for. He sent a silent prayer to the sky above before blurting out, “She was.”
Maliki, his ex-girlfriend, had been pregnant. That was the answer to the question Zoe had asked before storming off, after he’d frozen up, fearing her judgment, unable to answer. Unable to go down that road so filled with anguish.
“She was what?” Zoe asked carefully.
“Pregnant.”
Zoe’s hands fell loose at her sides as comprehension dawned. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” He kicked the shovel into the dirt, lifting a cracked block of the sidewalk that led to Zoe’s front door.
“And now she’s…gone,” Zoe said carefully. “Where’s the baby?”
“Turns out she wasn’t mine.” Ashton felt the rage of betrayal and usury settle in once again. He gripped the shovel’s handle so he wouldn’t hurl it across the yard in a rage. The cat scratches on his hands had scabbed and puckered, itching like mad, and he wanted to tear them open, feel the pain somewhere other than in his heart for the way he’d lost Zoe by stepping up and doing what he’d believed was the right thing. Maliki had overturned his life and stolen moments he’d never get back, because he’d been a sucker. He’d fallen for her woes and convinced himself it would work out and be okay because he was a nice guy.
A nice guy.
They always finished last.
“Ashton?”
He waited a long few seconds before looking up at Zoe.
“I don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes as bitter betrayal and anger washed over him. He hadn’t understood, either.
“Jaelyn is nine months old and living with her real dad.”
“I thought you were going to marry me,” Zoe said, her voice shaking with emotion. “Then you left without explaining. You shut me out. We could have gotten through this together.”
The word together settled like an impossible weight on his shoulders. Or maybe that was just a heavy dose of guilt for trying to spare her, for shielding her—and failing.
“I was trying to protect you,” he said hoarsely. Zoe had been so quiet last summer when he’d told her he had to go to the city to work out some stuff. She hadn’t been nosy or prodded him into talking like he’d expected, and a part of him had thought that maybe she was secretly relieved to be given some space.
“No,” she insisted, “that’s called not trusting me, or the strength of our relationship. You didn’t trust me to help you, to confide in me. Instead you married…her. You found someone else to have a family with. I thought you loved me. I thought our plan was what you wanted.” She stopped, swallowing hard, her eyes damp.
Ashton felt his shoulders drop. “I…I was trying to do the right thing. It wasn’t about you.” It hadn’t even been about him. It had been about giving that child a chance in a medical situation where everything could be lost so quickly.
“Exactly.” Zoe snatched the shovel from him and threw it on the ground at his feet. “I thought we were more than just two individuals when we were together. I thought we were partners.” She swallowed hard, her eyes so wet he knew tears would fall at any moment.
“We were,” he managed to choke out. There was still so much to explain, so much to convey, but it felt so futile and meaningless in the light of her pain. He’d dreamed that he and Zoe would help raise the child together. And then everything had changed, so severely, in that one simple conversation with Maliki that he hadn’t known which way was up any longer, only that he had to step in and help or he would lose everything. More than just Zoe.
But in the end, he’d lost it all.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he insisted.
“Why are you back in Indigo Bay?”
He ignored her question. “I didn’t know Jaelyn wasn’t mine until after Maliki died and Jaelyn’s real father came to claim her.” Ashton had fought for her for months and lost, and he still couldn’t figure out why it hurt so badly, when she’d never even been his. “I was played, Zoe. I was played, and you and I lost everything, and I will always be eternally sorry for that.” To his horror, he felt his own eyes dampen. He closed them, struggling for control. “I came here because…because I just wanted…”
Forgiveness.
A second chance. A do-over.
And it was too much to ask. He could see that now.
To his surprise he felt arms snake their way around him. Despite knowing he would make Zoe’s sunny-yellow shirt dirty, he hugged her tight, promising himself he’d never let her go, never take a day or a grain of forgiveness or understanding for granted ever again.
The next day, when Ashton showed up at Zoe’s work carrying a box from Sweet Caroline’s, she was unable to prevent her old fight-or-flight reaction from kicking in. She smoothed her hands over the cool surface of her desk and calmed her heart rate. Ashton smiled tentatively, doing nothing to help slow her pulse.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t forgive him. And yet when he smiled like that, all uncertain and wounded, it felt possible. Like she could. It didn’t help that yesterday she’d felt such sympathy for him she’d ended up embracing him in a giant hug, one that had felt so right.
But it still hurt. He’d shut her out rather than telling her the truth last summer. He hadn’t allowed her to help him deal with how his life was changing, and that still mattered to her. It also revealed that there had been a giant communication hole in their relationship.
Last night, in another fit of avoidance, she’d spent hours walking the beach, then dining out with Ginger instead of facing Ashton and his grief. She knew how much he wanted a family. But why hadn’t he told her his ex was expecting? Why had he married her?
Zoe had to still be missing a chunk of the puzzle. A piece beyond the fact that Ashton was the most giving, thoughtful man she knew. He’d been taken advantage of by a woman who’d used him, lied to him, and as a result ruined everything for Zoe and Ashton. If the woman had still been alive, Zoe would have finished her off herself.
And now, thanks to Ashton’s late wife, she had conflicting feelings of wanting to both console Ashton and smack him upside the head for shutting her out and marrying such a woman.
So she’d come in to work early again today to avoid him at the cottage, and he’d arrived in time for her afternoon coffee break, as was their new routine.
Ashton set the box on her desk. He was dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt stained with dirt.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
“Are you still working on my yard?” It didn’t feel quite right that he was doing her landscaping.
“I am,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” It was difficult to hang on to her anger when he was trying so hard to make things right again by breaking his back in her tired old yard.
He simply smiled and stepped back from her desk. “I hope you enjoy your break.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked outside, hands in his pockets.
Zoe gaped after him. That was not what she had expected him to do.
He was wooing her.
No, looking fo
r forgiveness.
But it felt a lot like wooing.
A slow, careful wooing.
She wasn’t certain how that made her feel.
Special? Wary? A little bit excited?
She opened the small box, inhaling the sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon. Once again bittersweet memories washed over her and she set the box aside, the treat untouched. She needed to stay calm, stay the course.
What was her course, again?
Not move too fast.
No, not that.
Stand firm. He still hadn’t explained everything. It had been a struggle for him to admit all that he had last night, but she knew there was still more.
“Is that fresh from Sweet Caroline’s?” asked Kelso, one of the guys on staff, as he passed her desk.
Zoe lifted the box without looking. “Take it.”
“Really?” He grinned like she’d made his day. “No matter what everyone says, Zoe, you’re the best.”
“Very funny,” she said drily.
She turned to her computer, staring at her monitor, her mind tumbling. She picked up a pencil to try and train her thoughts on one thing at a time. She still couldn’t get over the way Ashton had been betrayed and used by his ex—who had since passed away. How had he so easily and quickly been pulled back into a relationship with her? And what had caused her to pass on?
The pencil Zoe was holding snapped and she took a calming breath.
It didn’t help. She wanted to break another pencil. An entire case of them.
She growled at her computer, then jumped when someone cleared his throat.
“Is this a bad time?” It was the man who’d come by the other day asking about a guest.
“Not at all,” she said brightly. “What can I assist you with?”
“Has Quentin Valant checked in yet?” He took a folded handkerchief from a back pocket of his jeans and dabbed at his forehead.
“Hot out there today?” Zoe asked, as she checked the reservations list. She shivered as he put his handkerchief back in his pocket. There was something about him today that felt off—and not just the fact that he was carrying a handkerchief like a proper gentleman when she could see tattoos creeping above his shirt’s neckline toward his chin. The man didn’t add up.
