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  Anchor of Hope

  Kiah Stephens

  © Kiah Stephens 2015

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  First printed in 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and other entities appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or other real-life entities is purely coincidental.

  For more information, or to join our mailing list, please visit www.authorstephens.blog.com

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost I would like to thank God for giving me an abundance of grace, mercy, love, and hope.

  Secondly, my husband and children - for always encouraging me and supporting me every step of the way.

  I'd also like to thank my editor, Iola Goulton, for her countless hours correcting my work and gently encouraging and guiding me to refine my manuscript.

  Next, my beta readers - Angela, Faith, Gemmah, John, Julie, Marie, Megan, Nancy, Rachel, Samantha and Trish. Without your feedback, suggestions, constructive criticism, and encouragement this book would not be what it is now, so thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

  Thank you to Abigail, for my cover art. You are one talented girl.

  And last, but certainly not least, you - the reader. Thank you for taking a chance and reading my book. I hope that it entertains you, makes you smile, and brings you joy.

  Thank you.

  “We have this hope as anchor for our soul, firm and secure.”

  - Hebrews 6:19 (NIV)

  “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, they are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”

  - Jeremiah 29:11 (TLB)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Ashley Harper shuffled backwards in the elevator, bumping into the man standing behind her, trying to create more space for Madeleine, the heavily pregnant fashion and lifestyle reporter.

  “Sorry, got room for one more sardine?” Madeleine squeezed in, holding her purse flat against her chest above her bulging belly to try to create more room—as if that was possible. It did feel like they were all squished into a sardine tin. Ashley tried not to notice the inevitable bouquet of body odor from many people confined in a small space in the middle of summer. She drew her shoulders inwards, her left arm pressed hard against her friend, Tania’s.

  Ashley was a design layout editor at The Brooklyn Times, but she had always envied Madeleine’s role—fashion reporting seemed much more glamorous and entertaining.

  “Why didn’t you take the stairs, Madeleine?” the guy standing beside Madeleine teased.

  She let out a small laugh. “If I took the stairs, I’d still be waddling down by the time you all got back here on Monday.”

  “You must be feeling the heat?” he asked, somewhat sympathetically.

  “Oh, yeah.” Madeleine nodded.

  July in Brooklyn was hot. The air conditioning in the building effectively concealed the heat wave they had been experiencing the past few weeks.

  Tania flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder and leaned even closer to Ashley. “You coming out for some drinks tonight? I think a few of the crew from the sports department are coming.”

  Ashley shook her head. “Not tonight. I have an early flight tomorrow, so I need to finish getting organized. And tonight is the only time I’ll get to spend with Steven.”

  “Oh, that’s right; I completely forgot. A whole week off of work with no Dianne breathing down your neck, saying, ‘I need it done, and I need it done yesterday!’ Where are you going again? Idaho or something?” Tania fished around in her bag for something, obviously not minding that she was poking and prodding the man standing in front of her as she did so.

  “Oregon. Sweet Home, Oregon.”

  “I still can't believe there is actually a place called ‘Sweet Home.’ Hilarious.”

  “Home, sweet home.” Ashley’s lips curled into a faint smile and she raised her eyebrows, remembering how her dad would always say that to people visiting the area.

  “Do they have roads there?” Tania applied some hot pink lip gloss.

  Ashley glanced at her with a raised eyebrow. Was Tania joking?

  “I mean, I know they have roads, but are they just, like, dirt roads? I’m picturing tumbleweeds blowing across dirt roads and a whole heap of country folk.” She pronounced ‘country folk’ with an exaggerated accent, and waved her hands in front of her as if creating an imaginary scene. Ashley laughed.

  Ding! Ground floor.

  The doors opened, and they finally escaped the overcrowded elevator and headed towards the building exit.

  “Yeah, it has paved roads, buildings, schools; the usual small-town stuff, I guess. They have an annual country music fair that’s pretty big. Lots of farming, which my brother adores. He’s into all that organic, non-GMO, nature stuff. It’s all so . . . I don’t know . . . slow, unprogressive—”

  “Dull?”

  Ashley nodded.

  “Your mom couldn’t have gone somewhere exciting for the wedding? The Bahamas didn’t sound appealing to her?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” Ashley laughed. “Not my mom’s style.”

  The thought of returning to Sweet Home made Ashley’s stomach churn and her head spin, but she had missed her family. She had said good riddance to Sweet Home eight years ago, and if it were up to her, she’d never return.

  They stepped outside of the building and were immediately blasted with the stifling afternoon air. It felt like opening a hot oven door.

  “All right, hon, I’m headed this way.” Tania smiled and pointed to the left, tossing her purse over her shoulder and flicking her hair again. “Have fun, stay safe and look out for banjo players—I’ve seen Deliverance. Oh, and if you come home with the name ‘Billy Bob’ tattooed across your back, I’m disowning you as a friend!”

  Ashley laughed and shook her head. They hugged briefly then went their separate ways.

  Ashley’s apartment in Prospect Heights was two miles from her office in Brooklyn. She had managed to pick up pace over the past few years and could now walk the route in under twenty minutes.

  At 5:30 the evening air was warm and welcoming in the buzzing city. Commuters crowded the streets and walkways, hurrying home or out for Friday afternoon drinks with their colleagues, which, more often than not, lead to late-night drinks.

  Ashley adored these sounds and smells—street vendors selling a myriad of different foods, people laughing and chatting with relief that the busy work week was over, and the general hustle and bustle of a city full of vibrancy, full of life.

  The usual weekend invasion of tourists were easy to spot with their ‘I LOVE New York’ merchandise, and the fact that they stopped to take photos of random things every few seconds. Ashley smiled to herself as she watched a middle-aged man try to get his wife and embarrassed teenage daughter to smile for what Ashley could only imagine was their hundredth photo of the day.

  As she was turning the corner her phone rang. Jane.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, Sweetheart. How are you? All packed and ready for your flight?”

  “Yeah, I have my bags ready to go. Heading home now, going to have a quiet night. Steven said he’s going to call sometime after work tonight, whatever time that will be.”

  “Tell him I said to take a break every now and then, otherwise he’s going to burn out. It’s a shame he won’t be abl
e to make the wedding next weekend.”

  Ashley smiled at the thought. Steven? Take a break? Never!

  “I know. He’s disappointed he won’t be there. Oh, that reminds me, did you get his gift? It should have arrived by now.”

  “We did. It’s lovely! I left a thank you message with his receptionist this afternoon. A 1979 champagne—it’s older your brother! Piper-Heidsieck. Am I saying that right?” Jane chuckled. “Won’t it have turned into vinegar by now?”

  “No, Mom. But if it has, it will be the world’s most expensive vinegar.”

  Ashley turned another corner and walked through the entrance to the block of apartments where she lived. Hers was only a small building, ten apartments in total. She shared her two-bedroom apartment with Hallie, whom she’d met through a newspaper advertisement for a roommate when she had first moved to Brooklyn.

  Ashley began walking up the steps, still talking to her mom. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring an outfit for the wedding? I have a ton of dresses sitting in my wardrobe. Is there anything you want me to pick up for you before I leave in the morning?”

  “No. No, thanks, darling. Gran and I have your dress ready. We need to get you here for the measurements, so Gina can alter the gown for you.”

  Ashley had previously offered to get her measurements taken in Brooklyn and sent to Jane, but her mother had insisted Gina would do it. “I don’t trust anyone else,” she’d said. “Gina is the best of the best. We’ll see her first thing Monday morning.” It frustrated Ashley. She hated surprises, especially when it came to fashion. She had a specific taste, and with designer clothing lines at her doorstep, the thought of having to wear a dress from the outdated country town of Sweet Home seemed absurd. But it was her mother’s wedding, and if she wanted Ashley to wear a specific outfit, then so be it. She could deal with it for one day.

  “Don’t forget Bryan will pick you up from the airport,” Jane said, “11:15 isn’t it? And it’s a.m.? Make sure you double-check.”

  Ashley laughed. “It’s a.m., Mom.”

  “Are you sure? Because I thought it was meant to be a six-hour flight, and that doesn’t seem to make sense to me. If you leave at eight a.m., you shouldn’t be arriving until much later.”

  “Mom, it’s the difference in time zones,” Ashley rolled her eyes, aware her mother couldn’t see her. “Just trust me. I’ll be arriving in Portland at 11:15 a.m.”

  “I don’t get it, but anyway, you should also take your own snacks on the plane too. Their food is ridiculously overpriced and bad quality.”

  “OK, Mom. I’ve got everything under control. Don’t worry. I better go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “OK, Honey. See you then. Love you.”

  “You too,” Ashley replied, then hung up and continued along the corridor towards her apartment.

  She got her door key out and as she slid the key into the lock, the door opened.

  Hallie stood on the other side.

  Ashley gasped and raised her hand to her chest. “You scared me half to death!”

  Hallie laughed. “I’m sorry. About to head out for work. I was afraid I’d miss saying good-bye before you left tomorrow morning. What time are you heading off?”

  “My flight leaves after eight, so pretty early.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be up before midday tomorrow. I hate working Friday night shifts during summer. It’s totally crazy.” She pressed her lips together.

  Hallie worked in a sports bar in Manhattan on the weekends. During the week, she was a sales assistant in an upbeat fashion store.

  “Umm, so I guess I’ll see you next week? I hope you have a great time.” Hallie gave Ashley a tight hug and kissed her on the cheek, then took off.

  Ashley moved inside and dumped her bag and keys on the entry table. She pulled out her hair tie, kicked off her heels, and walked over to the kitchen counter to check if there was any mail for her.

  Nothing.

  Her phone rang. Steven.

  “Hi,” she said, pleased to hear from him so early.

  “Hi, are you home yet?” he asked.

  “Just walked through the door. Are you still planning on coming over tonight? You want me to pick up something for dinner?” Ashley opened the fridge door, pulled out a bottle of Shiraz, closed the door with her bare foot, and began to pour herself a glass.

  “Well, actually, I was thinking we could go out somewhere for dinner.”

  “Uh, OK, sure. Where did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a surprise. Dress nice, and I’ll pick you up—in oh, let’s say an hour—about seven, OK?”

  Ashley smiled. “What have you got planned?”

  “Just do it. Love you. Bye.”

  He hung up before she had a chance to respond.

  Ashley stared blankly at the phone in her hand. It wasn’t unlike Steven to be pushy and demanding, but that was all part of his charm and personality. He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to ask for it, and he certainly didn’t care if he didn’t come across as being polite. Some people thought he was rude, but Ashley knew Steven was just being Steven. She took a sip of her wine, then dashed off to her room to pick out an outfit.

  It was almost seven when her phone rang again, startling her. She had finished applying a coat of lip gloss. It was her brother.

  “Hey Bryan.”

  “Ashley! How’s it going?”

  “Good, good. Mom called earlier. She said you’re going to meet me at PDX at 11:15?” Ashley slipped on her heels as she spoke.

  “Yes, I’ll be there. Hopefully, I won’t be running late. I need to meet with a supplier in Wilsonville beforehand.”

  “Thank you so much for the ride. Are you sure you want to drive all that way? It’s a long way to go. I can wait around and get a flight to Sweet Home later on that day if that’s easier.”

  “Wait around at the airport? No way—that could take hours. I don’t mind the drive. We haven’t seen you in ages, and Mom’s excited to see you. Wait till you see the café. You haven’t been back in what, ten years?”

  “Eight! I know. She told me not to eat the plane food.” Ashley giggled.

  “That’s actually not bad advice. It could be GMO and full of artificial chemically-laden rubbish.” Bryan sounded serious.

  “I’ll pack a bag of snacks for the trip.” Ashley smiled. “You guys worry too much.”

  “Well someone has to look out for you. I'd better go. Harley is trying to drown Coco in the bath, and Jess is about to lose it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ashley had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep herself from laughing out loud as Bryan ended the call.

  Jess was Bryan’s wife. They had three children: Meika aged nine, Coco, who was seven, and two-year-old Harley. Bryan was Ashley’s only sibling. He was a few years older than her and had always been one of those over-protective big brothers. Sure, they had their fair share of fights and disagreements, mainly during their teen years, but for the most part they got along. They only saw each other every few years, so they were never near each other long enough to get on one another’s nerves.

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  Ashley grabbed her purse and keys and opened the door. Steven stood there, dressed in a fitted gray shirt, navy blue tie, and dark gray suit pants.

  He flashed a dazzling smile. He was tall with a slim, athletic build; caused from a combination of good genetics and running track throughout high school and college. Ashley had met his mother once, at a wedding. She was beautiful and it was obvious she had paid a substantial amount of money to remain that way. But she was cold and distant, and currently on her third husband since divorcing Steven’s father.

  Steven Cole was an attorney at the law firm of Cole, Irving and Paxton. His father had co-founded the powerhouse firm when Steven was a boy, shortly after his parents were divorced and Steven was sent off to boarding school. Steven had studied business law at Washington College of Law before becoming a junior at his
fathers’ firm.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes running up and down her.

  She tucked a golden blonde strand of her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. Growing up her brother had teased her about her freckles, pointy chin and dark eyebrows, but Steven had always told her it made her look distinguished.

  “Shall we?” He held out his arm and she tucked her arm through his as they exited the apartment.

  His driver was waiting for him on the street and Steven held the rear door open as Ashley climbed in. He settled in beside her.

  “Why won’t you tell me where we're going?” she asked, secretly relishing the fact that he had gone to the effort of making plans for them.

  He gave her a mysterious smile and shook his head.

  A short time later they arrived at the restaurant. Ashley could hardly believe it as she stepped out of the car. It was the restaurant Steven had taken her to on their first date. Le Bernardin, an exquisite French restaurant with an exotic oriental twist—one of the best in the city, and almost impossible to get into on short notice.

  “Steven, how on earth did you get reservations? I thought you had to book weeks in advance.”

  He retrieved his matching suit jacket from the car and slipped it on.

  “Maybe I had this planned in advance.” He grinned and cocked one eyebrow.

  Ashley couldn't stop beaming. This was turning out to be an enjoyable evening indeed.

  Inside they were ushered to their seats, offered sparkling mineral water and listened as their host described the various notes of their wines.

  Steven took the initiative, ordering for them both, as he usually did.

  The décor was incredible, classic with a contemporary twist. Intimate and inviting. An enormous painting of the sea filled almost the entire back wall, fitting seamlessly with the seafood focus of the menu.

  Their drinks were poured promptly, and the crisp, fruity tones of the French white wine danced enticingly on her taste buds.

  Steven held her gaze across the table; neither of them spoke.

  Their first course was served: clams with shaved fennel and an incredible apple ginger broth for Ashley, while Steven had kingfish with caviar.

  “Is it as good as you remembered?” Steven asked.

  “Better. It's amazing. This is amazing,” she said gesturing to the whole room.

  “Good. It's a special night and I wanted to make it one to remember—especially before you take off and leave me for an entire week.” He stuck out his bottom lip.

  “Well in all fairness, you won't even be here.” Ashley raised her glass to her lips. “I hope you've been working on your Japanese.”

  Steven was due to fly to Japan on Thursday to meet with the head of a large Japanese law firm in the hopes of forming a profitable business alliance.

  He feigned insult.“Watashi wa, watashi wa shinkō no anata no fusoku ni yotte bujoku shite imasu.”

  Ashley raised her eyebrows “Wow, impressive! Does that actually mean anything or were you making it up?” She giggled.

  “I said ‘I am insulted by your lack of faith in me’.” He frowned.

  “I have faith in you. You'll do wonderfully—you always do.”

  “I'm glad you think so,” he said, “because if we land this client next week I'm going to be announced partner at the Business Awards Dinner in two weeks.”

  “Steven, that is amazing! Congratulations!”

  Steven nodded, barely able to contain the look of glee on his face. “Thank you. It's time to get serious and grow up. Take responsibility.”

  The main meals were served. This time Ashley had the lobster and Steven had the seared tuna and wagyu beef. Steven motioned for the host to refill their glasses.

  “That's not the only reason I decided to bring you here tonight.” He waited for their host to leave. “I wanted to ask you something and I think now is the right time.”

  A million reasons flashed through Ashley’s mind, but only one seemed to make sense. He had said it was time to grow up and take responsibility—was Steven about to ask her to marry him?

  No. He wouldn't. But then why this restaurant? They had been dating for five years, so it was possible. It was the next logical progression in their relationship. Ashley watched on as he began to eat his meal, leaving her in suspense. Her pulse began to quicken and her breathing felt shallow. He chewed his food slowly, and her anticipation grew. Finally he swallowed, took a sip of his wine and dabbed at his mouth with the white linen napkin. Steven took her hand across the table, gently caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

  “I think it's time we took the next step,” he said, meeting her eyes, his expression unreadable. “I'd like you to move in with me.”

  Ashley took a moment to register his proposition. She felt relief that the excitement and anxiety of a possible proposal had passed, but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. She had told Steven in the past that she wasn't interested in marriage, although, if she were to be honest, that was probably to please him as she knew how much he disliked the entire institution.

  “Well, what do you think? I mean we've been together for five years now. We spend all of our free time together. If you move in, then we'll get to be with each other that little bit extra.” He resumed slicing his beef.

  Ashley stifled a small laugh, lowering her gaze and pressing a finger to her lips.

  “What?” Steven asked as he raised a piece of beef to his mouth.

  “Nothing.” She looked at her meal, feeling foolish. Of course he wasn't going to propose.

  “Really?” he asked. “If there's something on your mind, you should blurt it out. God knows I do.” He chuckled.

  “It's nothing, really. It’s . . .” She looked up. “I don't know. I thought there for a moment you were going to propose to me.”

  Steven froze, then began to laugh as though it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Ashley shifted uncomfortably at his reaction. He ran his hands through his dark hair and sat forward again, trying to suppress his laughter.

  “God, no.” He wiped his eyes with the napkin and took a drink of his wine. “You know I don't believe in marriage. It's a ridiculous, outdated concept cooked up by religious zealots in order to control the freedom and rights of humanity.”

  Ashley shook her head and forced the best smile she could muster. So stupid. She hadn't entertained the idea of marriage—well, not since she was young and foolish and thought life was one big fairytale which always had a happy ending.

  “Besides.” Steven took her hand, serious again. “What we have right now is so perfect, I don't want anything to come between us. We don't need a piece of paper or a ring to verify that we love each other, do we?” He raised Ashley’s chin to meet his eyes.

  She shook her head. “I suppose not.”

  “Of course not.” He released her hand and continued to eat. “Just look at what happened to my parents. My mother has been married four times! And what about Clayton and Amanda? They were the perfect couple. Happy together for fifteen years, got married, divorced four months later. Marriage ruins relationships. I don't want that, and I thought you didn't either.”

  She didn't want to ruin their relationship.

  “You're right, totally right. I don't know what I was thinking. Too much wine.” She looked at her glass and raised her eyebrows, hoping that excuse would suffice.

  “You sound disappointed. We discussed this already, remember? We agreed we didn't want to get married or have kids.”

  “I never said I didn't want kids.”

  “Yes, you did,” Steven said, finishing his second glass of wine and motioning for another.

  “When your brother came to visit with the girls two years ago, you said kids freaked you out and they were too much hard work.”

  “Yeah, they freak me out and they are hard work, but I didn't say that I never wanted kids.”

  Her nieces had been a handful. Full of energ
y, needy, and awake all hours of the night. That would freak anyone out.

  “Well, Ok, do you want kids?” Steven peered at her, eyebrow cocked.

  “I don't know. Maybe.” She bit her lip.

  She had always thought marriage came first, then children. If Steven was unwilling to marry her, she would have to settle for children born outside of wedlock. She had been brought up in a Christian family, but had lost her faith following the death of her father when she was a teenager. Marriage wasn't necessary in today's society, was it? Children born out of wedlock weren't frowned upon any more. This was the twenty-first century, after all.

  “Maybe? Either you do, or you don't. I think it's irresponsible to bring children into this world, and it’s cruel for the child, especially as we both have demanding jobs. We'd never see them. It's easy for you and I to accept that our careers take first priority and we're both cool with that, right?” He met her gaze, pinning her to the spot.

  Ashley nodded.

  “If we had kids, they wouldn't understand that. They'd end up an emotional mess and resent us for it. Is that the kind of mother you'd want to be?”

  Like Steven’s mother? No. That wasn’t the kind of mother she’d want to be. She hadn’t realized he felt so strongly about not having children. The result of his own upbringing, no doubt. She struggled to find the words to respond but decided it was best to let it go and enjoy the evening together. How could she change his mind? If she pushed the subject he might end the relationship. Or worse, relent, then spend the rest of his life secretly resenting her. She didn't want to spend their last night together arguing, not in this incredible restaurant.

  “You're right.” Ashley smiled.

  “I know I'm right. I've experienced first-hand what's it's like to grow up like that, and it's not a healthy environment. There's no way I would ever want children.” He took a sip of his third glass of wine. “How's the lobster?”

  She hadn't even touched it yet. She had lost her appetite during the conversation, but as soon as she tasted the dish she quickly regained it.

  “Delicious.” She made a satisfying sound.

  “Well what do you think, about moving in together?”

  The idea made perfect sense. It would mean they could spend more time together but she couldn't shake the growing feeling that something was wrong. It was almost like a little voice was screaming don't do it! She loved Steven. He was handsome, charming, wealthy, ambitious, motivated, and confident. All admirable attributes. She owed him a lot. If it wasn't for him she'd probably still be working as a receptionist. Steven had always dictated the way their relationship went, and Ashley believed he deserved to have that right—he was smarter, more hard working and less emotional than her.

  Growing up in Sweet Home, she had always been a spirited outspoken little girl, never afraid to say exactly what was on her mind—which often landed her in trouble. After the death of her father, the strong-minded, fearless woman disappeared and she would now describe herself as being more of an introvert, avoiding conflict where possible. New York was a long way from Sweet Home and being outspoken and spirited wasn't always a good thing. It was much better to fit in, keep your head down, and go unnoticed.

  “It sounds good, but can I have some time to think about it?”

  She saw the look of confusion on his face, but he nodded anyway.

  “Just don't take too long,” he said, then flashed her one of his charming smiles.

  The rest of the evening went smoothly. Dessert was as spectacular as their previous courses—velvet-smooth chocolate mousse with Tahitian vanilla ice cream and an exotic creation of tropical fruits.

  It was almost 9:30 p.m. by the time Steven walked Ashley back upstairs to her apartment.

  As she unlocked the door to her apartment and opened it, Steven followed her in and pulled her towards him. He pressed her close, lowered his head and kissed her.

  “You want to stay for a while?” Ashley asked when he finally released her. His hands ran down her back, and she felt her skin cover in goosebumps.

  “Tempting, tempting.” His lips curled upwards at the edges and his eyes were hooded. He coughed to clear his throat. “But I have to get that document submitted before midnight if I'm going to stand any chance of nailing this contract next week.”

  Ashley was disappointed, but this was Steven’s life. He had always been focused and driven by success. She had to be willing to come in second place if she wanted any place in his life at all.

  “I'm sorry about what I said at dinner—”

  “It's fine.” He placed a finger to her lips. “I'm glad we talked about marriage and starting a family. The subject was bound to come up again sooner or later. At least now it's over and done. We've had our say, we're both on the same page, and we can move on with our lives, together. Like you moving in with me?” He pulled her close again and smiled mischievously.

  “I don't know, Steven. Hallie and I signed another six-month contract, and your apartment in Manhattan is further from my office—”

  “I can get Harry to drop you off every morning and pick you up every afternoon. Hallie wouldn't have any trouble finding a new roommate. This place is a great location with affordable rent it'd get snapped up immediately.”

  Ashley hesitated.

  “No pressure. Think about it. In fact, take all week, and you can let me know when you get home next Sunday. Or sooner, if you want. Like right now.” He grinned, but moved towards a photo album sitting on the entry table.

  “What's this?” He stepped by Ashley and picked up the dusty pink album.

  He began to turn the pages, a smile playing on his lips as his eyes moved over the photos of Ashley as a child and teenager.

  “Just trying to prepare myself for going back home.” Ashley peered over his shoulder at the photos.

  “Who's this?” Steven frowned.

  Memories returned as Ashley stared at the photo, herself as a teenager next to a handsome young man, his arm draped over her shoulder. She could still remember it all so clearly: the warm breeze, the heady scent of Jay's deodorant, and the sparkle in his eyes whenever he looked at her.

  “That's Jay.” Ashley hadn't said his name in so long, yet it still felt familiar. It should feel familiar. They had grown up together. Their parents had been close friends. There had even been a time in Ashley's life when she actually thought her and Jay might have one day gotten married.

  “Jay? Were you two a couple?” Steven cleared his throat.

  Ashley smiled. Was Steven jealous? It was unwarranted. “We dated in high school, but it wasn't anything serious.”

  “You never told me about this guy.” Steven pressed his lips together.

  “Nothing to tell.” Ashley shrugged.

  “Doesn't look that way to me. What else are you hiding?” Steven narrowed his eyes at her. “You're not planning on seeing him when you go back to Sweet Home are you?”

  Ashley's mouth dropped open.

  “What? It's a legitimate question.”

  She was hurt that he even felt the need to ask that question. “No, Steven. I'm not planning on seeing Jay. He probably doesn't even live there any more. And even if he did still live there, I'm probably the last person he would want to see.”

  Steven's eyes narrowed further. She shouldn't have said that. Now he would want to know why Jay wouldn't want to see her. She needed to come up with a believable excuse, and fast.

  “I broke up with him and we never spoke after that.” It wasn't exactly a lie. They hadn't spoken since she broke up with him by text message and left. It wasn't his fault. He’d been the perfect boyfriend. It was Ashley who needed to escape. She had hated herself for everything that had happened. She hated the fact that she’d spent most nights getting wasted with her friends, and she hated the fact that Jay was always there, trying to get her to stop. Most of all, she hated herself for not being there when her father died. Instead she was drunk, dancing around a bonfire.

  St
even sighed and the sides of his lips twisted up into a smile. “Well, can't say I blame the poor kid. I'd be heartbroken if you broke up with me.” He pulled her close and smiled down at her. “Or if you refuse my offer of moving in with me.”

  Ashley laughed and relaxed a little. When it came to patience Steven had absolutely none. Growing up in a family with money, she supposed he had learned from an early age that anything was within his means, and his divorced parents often sought to buy his love. As an adult he always got what he wanted, when he wanted. No wonder. He was the perfect catch—rich, successful, good-looking, and so charming he could sell sand at the beach. She knew she was lucky that to have him. His phone buzzed signalling a message, most likely from Christopher, his associate. He checked it.

  “That's Chris. I gotta go.” He kissed her hard.

  “Have fun on your vacation.” He cupped her face in his hands and his expression turned serious.

  “Stay safe. Be good.” He paused. “And stay away from old boyfriends.”

  Ashley giggled and pushed him away. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “I love you,” he called, stepping down the staircase.

  “I love you, too.”

  Ashley smiled to herself as she watched him go, then went inside her apartment.

  She wanted to have one final check to make sure she had everything ready for her trip to Sweet Home. She had managed to avoid the place for years, but now she couldn't put her return off any longer. She would be back in Sweet Home by tomorrow afternoon, whether she liked it or not.