An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three) Page 18

  He slept for most of the day. Eventually, I, too, dozed in the chair, coming to only when I heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs. I sat up straight, disoriented, and blinked around the room. The couch was empty.

  “Daddy?”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, peeking his head in from the hall. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  He had showered and shaved and put on fresh clothes. I was so relieved, I could have cried. “You look better.”

  “Why don’t you come in and have some coffee and we can chat, okay?”

  I stood up and stretched, my body feeling achy from spending so much time sleeping in an upright position. When I joined my dad in the kitchen, he was already pouring out two mugs of fresh coffee. He handed one to me, and we both sat at the kitchen table as an awkward silence descended. I wanted to ask him how he was feeling, but didn’t want to set him off. I didn’t think I could bear to watch him fall apart again.

  My father was the first to break the silence. “I owe you an apology, Ashley. You shouldn’t have had to see me like that last night.”

  “Don’t be silly, Daddy,” I said, reaching out for his hand, but he held it up to silence me.

  “I mean it, Ashley. That won’t be happening again. I’m not going to pretend that yesterday wasn’t really tough. I’ll give myself that one out, behaving like I did. But it won’t be happening again. No daughter should have to see her father like…like that.”

  “Daddy, I’m your family. Of course I should be here to help you when you’re having a rough time.”

  He shook his head. “No, Ashley. I’m your father. It’s not your job to pick up the pieces for me. I’m supposed to take care of you. I promise I won’t let that happen again. I’m going to start taking better care of myself so that you don’t have to worry like that. Deal?”

  “I just want you to be okay,” I whispered.

  “I will be, Ash.” His voice was stronger than I had heard it in a long time. “I’m going to be just fine.”

  “Mom said…Mom said you were the one that asked for the divorce?”

  He nodded. “I’ve loved your mother for most of my life. And I’d be willing to forgive a lot. But I can’t forgive this. I won’t sit here and wait while she’s off with another man.” He looked up at me. “I’m sorry, honey. I know you were hoping we’d work it out.”

  “No, Dad, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you. You deserve better than that.”

  It was strange, looking at him now. He sounded so sure, so firm about this decision, so different from the man he’d been the last few months. In fact I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen him quite so adamant. He had totally stood up for himself with my mom yesterday—I wondered if she had been surprised. Had she expected him to beg her to change her mind? To tell her that he’d wait while she figured things out?

  “It’s kind of nice to know, in a way,” he said, his voice soft. “Have it settled one way or another. So I can move on.”

  “I’m sorry she did this to you,” I whispered, suddenly overwhelmed with the sadness of it all. This home they had built together, empty and silent around us.

  “I want you to try to stop worrying about it, Ashley,” he said firmly. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You’re getting married soon! Concentrate on that, honey. Don’t worry about your old man. I’m gonna be just fine.”

  My scalp tingled unpleasantly at the mention of the wedding, but I pushed it aside. “You will be, Dad,” I told him. “I know you will.”

  * * *

  I had wanted to take another day from work and stay with him that night, but my father flat out refused. Instead he made arrangements to go to his bridge game at the Elks club, just like he used to do on Monday nights. “It’s time for me to get back into my old routine,” he said. “I’m done hiding away just because my wife isn’t with me.”

  As I drove home, I could only pray that he’d actually follow through, that he’d take care of himself. That he really would be okay.

  I wasn’t surprised to find Chris in the apartment when I got home—I’d seen his Explorer parked outside. His smile when I opened the door made my heart sink. He looked so happy to see me, but all I could feel was fear. Fear and confusion.

  “I was starting to think I’d missed you,” he said, crossing the room to pull me into his arms. “I wondered if maybe you’d already left for the gym.”

  “Oh, uh, no,” I said, pulling away so I could take off my coat. “No gym today. How was your trip? Is Em here?”

  “Trip was great,” he said. “My parents say hi. Em already left to go see Elliot.”

  I nodded and walked to the kitchen, suddenly desperate for some water. My mouth felt dry, my throat scratchy. I knew I should tell Chris what had happened, but the thought of him knowing scared me so badly my hands started to shake.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, following me. “Ashley? You look kind of upset.”

  “I’m tired,” I said from the sink, my back to him. “I slept like crap last night.”

  “Are you getting sick?” I closed my eyes at the sound of concern in his voice.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Chris waited while I drank my water. When I finished, I plastered a smile on my face and turned to him. “So, tell me about Alpena.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “That can wait. I want to show you something. Come on.”

  I followed him back to the living room where I noticed my laptop was set up. He sat down on the couch and gestured for me to join him. “Okay, so try to have an open mind,” he said, clearly excited about something. I nodded and he opened a web browser, entering an address. A second later, a picture of a small brick house filled the screen.

  “What do you think?

  I stared at the computer, completely at a loss. “What is that?”

  “A house,” he said, laughing. “Maybe a house for us.”

  I froze. I could actually feel the color drain from my face.

  “Ashley? Babe, are you okay?”

  “I’m…fine,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Um, where did you find this?”

  “My dad and I got to talking this weekend, about the apartment search and all that. And he suggested we look into foreclosures instead. There are a lot on the market right now, and most of them need work, but I was really shocked by how affordable they are. We could totally make something like this work.”

  I stared at the screen, feeling my heart beat faster and faster. The house was cute from the outside, though a little run-down looking. There was a huge oak tree in the front yard and a big porch with plenty of room for family and friends.

  Chris wanted to buy a house.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered, standing up. “I’m…I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, setting the computer aside.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I lied. “I’m just…it’s too much right now, Chris. A house. That’s a really big deal.”

  “Sure it is,” he said reasonably. “But we need a place to live, right? If our mortgage payment wouldn’t be much more than an apartment, why not own instead of rent?”

  I had no argument for his logic. All I knew was that I felt like throwing up.

  “Chris, can we talk about this another time?” I asked, rubbing my forehead. My skin felt cold to the touch.

  Chris sighed. “Sure. Later.”

  I looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “We put everything off for later,” he muttered. “You never want to talk about what comes next.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, my voice low.

  Chris stood up and faced me. “Ashley, what’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re different, Ash. Ever since you found out about your parents, you’ve been…you’re not yourself. I want to know if it’s just because of them, or if there’s something else going on.”

  “Something else like what?”
I asked, feeling even more sick than I had before. Why did we have to have this conversation now? I just wanted to go lie down in the quiet of my bedroom.

  He stared at me for a moment before continuing. “Something else, like me. Us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Ashley. I thought you’d be over the moon about this wedding. Ever since I met you, you’ve been talking about your dream wedding, about the fairytale romance you were going to have some day—”

  “What, this isn’t living up to that ideal for you?” I snapped. The fear and confusion and sadness were fast giving way to anger.

  “That’s what I’m asking you!” he shot back. “Because you sure as hell don’t seem at all excited about the fact that we’re supposed to be getting married in less than three months.”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind, okay, Chris?”

  “I understand that. I know that things have been hard for you, and I think I’ve been pretty damn supportive—”

  “Yeah, you’re always so supportive,” I sneered. I sounded just like my mother talking about Daddy, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was suddenly sick to death of Chris’s patience, of the way nothing ever ruffled him, of the way he was always so even-keeled. For reasons I couldn’t even explain, I wanted to break through his calmness. I wanted to fight.

  “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice low.

  “It means you never have a damn opinion on anything!” I yelled, my temper finally snapping. “It means you make me decide everything.”

  “You’re one to talk, Ash. You’ve let your mother plan every little thing regarding this wedding. Have you had an opinion about any of it?”

  I knew he was right, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from firing back. “Yeah, well maybe I’m letting her plan things because I get no help from you.”

  “That’s ridiculous! You know I would help you with anything you ask.”

  “I shouldn’t have to ask! You should just help me!”

  “With what?” he asked, throwing up his hands. “It seems like you don’t give a damn about this wedding. Since the day we looked at those dress magazines, I haven’t seen you show the slightest interest.”

  “Then why haven’t you said something until now?” I asked, feeling close to tears. An image flashed through my mind of my father, sitting quietly in his recliner while my mom and Allison had a screaming match in the kitchen. How many times had I witnessed a scene like that? How many times had he just sat around while she made the decisions that would affect our family? He’d been so strong yesterday, demanding a divorce. If he’d shown some of that strength a little earlier, would they have ever gotten to that point?

  “How am I ever supposed to know what’s going on in your head, Chris?” I asked, my voice breaking. “God, it’s like nothing ever bothers you, nothing ever upsets you! You’re always so…so damn nice.”

  “You’re losing it,” he said slowly. “You’re actually getting mad at me for…what? Being too nice? Being too calm? Are you kidding me right now, Ash?”

  I wanted to hit him, wanted to burst into tears, and I wasn’t even really sure why. I felt my hands shaking again, and I shoved them into my pockets, looking at the ground and trying to take deep breaths.

  “Listen, Ashley, I love you, but this isn’t good for either of us. I think you’re too upset about your parents for us to be planning a wedding right now.”

  My head snapped up. “What?”

  “I think you’re under too much pressure, you’re too worked up. I think we should postpone.”

  “Are you…are you breaking up with me?”

  “No,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous—”

  “Oh, now I’m ridiculous?” I felt the blood rushing through my ears. Panic had gripped me at his words. Panic that he would leave me. Panic that I was messing up the best thing in my life. But somehow, mixed in with that panic, was the desire to keep pushing, to keep fighting. What was wrong with me?

  “Ashley.” Chris closed his eyes as if fighting for patience. “Please calm down. I want to marry you. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t. I just think it might be better for you if we slowed it down a little. Wait until things calm down with your family.”

  “I know what you’re doing, Chris,” I said, my voice shaking. “You’ve been looking for an excuse for ages, haven’t you? You couldn’t wait to abandon this whole marriage idea.”

  “Stop it.” Chris’s voice was low and almost dangerous sounding. It was strange to think of Chris as scary. Yet he had the power to hurt me worse than anyone else in the world. “I’m not going to let you do this,” he continued. “I’m not going to let you push us into a fight because you’re scared and you’re hurt.”

  He turned around and grabbed his coat, heading for the door.

  “Don’t you dare leave!” I yelled. I knew I sounded crazy, knew I was practically raving, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “If you leave, we’re done, Chris.”

  He stopped a foot away from the door, and I heard him sigh. Without turning he said, “I’m going to ignore that, Ashley. I’m leaving so you don’t say something you’ll regret later. Please try to calm down. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  And then he was gone, leaving me shaking in my living room, wondering what in the hell I had just done.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I’m not sure how I made it through the next day at work. I kept reminding myself that it was a short week—with Memorial Day coming up, we’d be off on Friday and the following Monday. Add in my sick day the day before, and I only had to get through three days. Three long, excruciating days with kindergarteners when all I wanted to do was hide away in my room.

  The kids, predictably, were hyper on Tuesday. They were excited for the four-day weekend coming up and still keyed up from having a substitute the day before. I knew I was in danger of being grumpy with them, so I did my best to simply tune out their behavior and focus on my lesson plans.

  When I got home, I went straight to bed, burying myself under the duvet. Emily had left a note that she was at work and she was sorry she missed me the night before. In all honesty, I was glad she was gone. She would know something was wrong as soon as she saw me, and I was in no mood to talk about what had happened.

  I must have fallen asleep because I was startled by the ringing of my cell phone and the sudden darkness of my room.

  “Hello?” I croaked.

  “Ashley? It’s Ryan. How’s it going?”

  “Oh, peachy, Ry,” I said, sinking back into my pillows. “Everything is great.”

  He chuckled. “That good, huh?”

  I sighed in response.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re in a bubble bath with a glass of wine right now.”

  “Close. Hiding under the duvet and wishing I had a glass of wine.”

  “Are you going to stay in tonight then?”

  I had completely forgotten it was a boot camp night. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to get out of the apartment and go spend an hour with the punching bag. My bed felt too hot, the duvet too confining.

  “No,” I said, sitting up straight and pushing the duvet away. “I’m going to go. I want to get out of the house and think about something else.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. A workout actually sounds really good right now. If I stay here, I really will go for the wine, and I can’t be hung over with kindergarteners in the morning.”

  “Good point. All right, well, I’m up for it if you are. But we’ll have to drive separately. I’m still at work, and I was just going to go from here.”

  “Okay,” I said, glancing down at my alarm clock. I only had twenty minutes to get out of the house and over to the gym. “See you there.”

  I scrambled around the room, gathering up workout clothes from my laundry basket and searching for my shoes. I headed for the living room, pulling my hair into a messy ponytail. “Emily?
” I called. “Em, you here?”

  There was no answer. She must have still been at the PT office, probably finishing up her paperwork. I scrawled a quick note under the one she’d left me earlier, letting her know where I was and telling her that I’d missed her, too.

  I made it to the gym right at the start of class. Tate was dividing everyone up into smaller groups. “You’re late,” he told me, but he was smiling.

  “Sorry,” I said. “What’re we doing?”

  “We’re going to work on some individual goals today,” he said. “Some of the other trainers are going to help out and lead us in small groups.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, distracted as I looked around the room for Ryan. He didn’t appear to be there yet.

  “I’m taking a group outside to do some running,” Tate was saying. “You in?”

  I turned my attention back to him. “Wait, what? Running? Outside?”

  He laughed. “Yes, outside. It’s a totally different experience from the treadmill. You should give it a try.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him, skeptical. Though I was a much better runner now than I had ever thought I could be, I still had never found any enjoyment in it—a fact I bemoaned to Tate every time he made me get on a treadmill.

  “Really,” he laughed. “I have a feeling you’ll enjoy it much more if we get you out and off the machine.”

  When I still didn’t agree, he shrugged. “You could always stay in here and work on your box jump…”

  “Fine, I’ll come,” I said. Maybe it really would be good for me, to be outside pushing myself. I obviously needed to get my mind off of all the drama in my life.

  We set off with a group of four, plus Tate. It became evident to me very early on that the other three in the group were avid runners. They pulled ahead of me in no time, and all seemed to instinctively know the same route around the local neighborhood.

  “They’re in the runners’ group,” Tate admitted when I mentioned this. “They all come out on Saturdays to train for the marathon.”

  “Great,” I said. “You really thought being left in their dust was the way to get me to fall for running?”

  Tate just laughed. “You’re doing great.”