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She brushes away something from his forehead with her thumb. The gesture is tender and caring, if not a bit nagging, but her son seems to enjoy teasing her about it. This kind of effortless family dynamic is so foreign to me that my stomach aches with a desire for a childhood I never had. The Ashtons seem to genuinely like each other despite being bonded by blood, which is something I have never experienced.
After a string of bullshit guilting texts where my mom included my siblings in the group as if to make an example of me, I finally had to silence our family group chat. No one even responded to her or stood up for me, just took note of her digital shaming. It was a beatdown on my mental health, and every time she sent them, it felt like a setback of the life I’m trying to live for myself. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve heard from anyone, and it’s hard but relieving to admit I hope it stays that way.
Watching the Ashtons interact, it’s clear that what I grew up in is not healthy.
“I’m thinking of doing something like this for Rebecca’s first birthday,” Cass muses, and I know she already misses her daughter even though she’s only been away from her for two minutes. “I know, I know, she’s only six months old. But I want to celebrate every single thing elaborately, even if she can’t remember. Not ridiculous, no renting out halls or thousand-dollar cakes or expensive entertainment. But I want this enormous family that we’ve built in Hope Crest, that also extends to our friends, to be around us for every special occasion. We can throw up a tent in our backyard for all I care, but I want the big party.”
“And that’s what you should have. Aren’t you just so tired of doubting your own intuition? Even if it just has to do with a one-year-old birthday party? Gosh, I know I am. It’s like I turned thirty and wondered why I was always second guessing myself. Just make the gut decisions you want to, and if it turns out horribly, you get through that, too.”
Am I giving advice that I’m not actually taking? Yes. But at least I can tell the truth, even if I’m not applying it.
“Jeez, you’re so right. I moved here thinking I could care so much less about what the world thought, and I still factor that into my decisions without realizing it. That’s that, we’re having a one year blowout bash.”
“And I’ll be there with bells on.” I high-five her.
“I never actually understood that saying.” She chuckles. “I mean, I guess I do, but it sounds funny.”
Before I can agree with her, her husband comes over to whisk her away. A band just set up on the street, and a makeshift dance floor has emerged. Couples shuffle together, smiling and singing as the drum beats hit.
Cassandra puts Rebecca in a carrier on her chest, the baby giggling while her mom dances, and Patrick envelops the two of them. They all sway, the smiles on their faces absolutely lovestruck and ridiculous.
Jealousy swamps my body like I’m drowning in it.
I skirt around the crowd forming and fall back to the refreshments area, observing but not participating. Isn’t that always my lot in life?
“Wish you could be out there dancing with me right now, huh?” a gruff voice sneaks up behind me.
My back is still to Liam, but I turn my neck to see his handsome face out of the corner of my eye. To anyone else, it looks like two Hope Crest residents talking at the little coffee table Alana set up on the sidewalk. To me, it’s a secret tryst that feels scandalous out in the open like this.
“You probably don’t dance.” I chuckle quietly because Liam Ashton on a dance floor would be a sight to behold.
“For you I would.” He shrugs, filling up a paper cup with hot brown liquid.
My heart flutters. It’s such a romantic notion, this man giving up something that is probably, usually, non-negotiable to him. For me.
“Come on, beautiful, let me take you for a spin.” His fingers brush lightly against my elbow, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut at the desperate urge to wrap my arms around him.
“Not here.” My voice is low, both with the need to keep us hidden and the shame I feel at rejecting his offer.
Even if I’m not looking directly at him, Liam’s disappointment is palpable.
God, I’m a coward. We’ve been sleeping together for months, have been essentially exclusively dating for a number of weeks, and still, I’m too chickenshit to claim any of it in public. Part of me still thinks I’ll be labeled with a scarlet letter for taking up with him.
“All right.”
I know, before I turn around, that he’s gone, and my heart drops to my feet. Fuck, I’m such an idiot. A gutless idiot. For the first time in my life, a man who I want to show me off to his family offered to do so, and I’m turning him down at every attempt.
Suddenly, I can’t feel more out of place. Among all these people who love freely, laugh openly, and seem to have this path they are sure about, I will forever be the odd one out.
So, after saying my goodbyes to Alana and Cass and hoping to God I don’t run into Liam, I steal away from the party like a thief in the night. Except the only things I’m escaping with are my foolish standards and misguided values.
An hour after I leave the party, there is a knock on my front door.
I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it. Liam might not like to talk, and he might hate conflict in a lot of situations, but when it comes to us, he seems to always be the one dumping our issues out in the open between us.
His large hands are braced on the doorframe when I open up, and those gray eyes assess me wearily.
“Is this always what I’ll be relegated to? Showing up in the night, long after the public displays could have been had?” The rough voice is full of emotion.
