“Come on, let’s get you two home. It’s too damn hot to sit out here all day.”
As Josh buckles Ashton into his niece’s carseat, I hold tightly to myself and try to smother the pain eating away at me. A lump forms in my throat at the memory of a carseat in the back of Eddie’s car so long ago.
The drive to the house is quiet except for Ashton babbling in the backseat. Josh sends me inquisitive looks from the corner of his eye a few times, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what I would say to his questions, anyway. So I rest her head against the window and concentrate on shoving everything to the back of my mind. Thoughts swirl around my brain, unrelenting and agonizing.
“Hey, Dealla?”
I look away from the house—when had we arrived? Josh’s lips quirk up into a smile that falls flat, and he reaches for my hand. I stare down at my lap when the concern on his face grows to be too much to bear. When it reminds me that this weight isn’t meant for anyone else’s shoulders, and it’s not right for me to expect them to help.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Josh murmurs, “but you know you can talk to me, right?”
I cough out a delirious laugh. “Trust me, if I knew, it wouldn’t be a problem. But thanks, I appreciate it.”
Josh waits until I have reached the front door with Ashton in my arms, then honks once. His car disappears from view only moments later, and I stare up at the home that’s become nothing more than a house.He better have a damn good reason, I think with a surprising bitterness. Kissing Ashton’s temple, I inhale slowly then make my way through the door.
The irritation explodes when I step inside only to hear an unfamiliar voice coming from the living room. I set Ashton on his feet and help him pull off his shoes before slipping out of my own flats. His hand is sweaty as he wraps his fingers around mine. He grins up at me, an innocent face made more precious by the love and trust found there.
Holden sits on the couch, laughing at whatever his friend has said on the video call, and I swallow down the venom. The grin he flashes my way does nothing to quell my anger. It only fans the flames. I turn away from him without a word, lead Ashton upstairs to the bathroom. While the tub fills, I strip him from his sweat-damp clothes.
My thoughts burst into a frenzy, and I can’t catch hold of any of them. Not really. All I feel are the hurt and betrayal of having been forgotten. Holden had found a laugh with a friend more important than remembering to pick up his girlfriend and the child he claims to love. He left us waiting in the afternoon heat without the decency of apologizing when he saw us.
I don’t realize I’ve begun sobbing until Ashton stops splashing in the water, staring up at me with wide eyes.
“’Kay?”
“Auntie Dee is okay, baby,” I croak out, and the crack in my voice is nothing to the shattered condition of my heart.
Once Ashton is bathed, I wrap him in a towel and hold him tightly to my chest. He rests his head on my shoulder as I carry him to his bedroom. He shivers and remains quiet while I dress him in a set of warm pajamas. I gaze at him. At the proof of the perfection he’s brought to her life.
“I love you so much, Ashton Alexander. You hear me?” I kiss his forehead and close my eyes against the tears. “You’re my everything.”
Holden is off the call by the time I come downstairs with Ashton. I avoid looking at my boyfriend as I leave the toddler by his toy-bin, my hand smoothing down his damp hair. Unfortunately, Holden remains as oblivious as when I came home, and he follows me into the kitchen.
“How was your day, sweetheart?”
“Fine.”
“Sorry I didn’t ask when you came in. Barry, a friend from high school, just wanted to tell me about his band’s latest adventures.”
“It’s fine.”Obviously I know where I stand.
I grab lettuce from the fridge and a tomato from the cluster in the bowl on the counter. Holden chatters on while I dice up the produce for the salad, and I let the sound of his voice fade under the buzzing in my ears. I grit my teeth to the point of aching. I know if I say anything right now, it will be the end of us.
I’m not sure anymore if it would be the end of the world.
“So why are you home so late?” Holden asks as he reaches for a cube of tomato.
I taste blood on my tongue, as acidic as the words I keep behind my lips. “Because I had to wait for Josh to finish up so he could give us a ride home.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Yeah? Well, he shouldn’t have fucking had to.”
A hot tendril of pleasure warps through me when Holden rears back. His mouth falls open, his eyes are wide, and I relish the expression on his face. I know he’s going to ask questions: The lack of response from me is one thing, if he even noticed it, but cursing—shouting—at him is new. Slamming the knife onto the cutting board, I clench my hands into fists and drag in breath after unsteady breath.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
“An’ Dee?”
