them, fading out the outline of the mountains in the distance into its dark canvas.
“Thanks for telling me that,” Ashton said slowly. “I don’t think Christy would ever have told me her story.”
“Well, you needed to know it for you to treat her fairly.” She sighed and then stood up to collect the now empty mugs. “Christy can be stubborn sometimes. But that’s because she feels vulnerable. That she would get hurt again. And sometimes smart people make foolish decisions because they’re trying to protect their heart and those of the ones they love.” She stopped again, fiddling with the edges of her tray. “All I’m asking you, Ashton, is that you please be gentle with her.”
She turned and walked wearily out of the room.
Ashton glanced after her. He could tell that life had tired her out. She clearly missed her husband and she wanted the best for Ash and Christy. But he didn’t know if he could give her the latter. He was still angry with Christy and he needed more than two weeks to completely forgive her for what she had done to him.
*****
The evening passed on quietly. Christy and Ashton barely spoke to one another over the dinner table. She made a good effort to ignore Ashton which only irked him more. He followed her around the kitchen as she tidied it up, clearing away all remnants of their dinner.
“Do you need to put these away too?” he asked, pointing at the candlestick holder.
She shook her head. “No,” and then continued on quietly at stacking the plates in the dishwasher.
“What about these placemats?”
“If you don’t mind putting them in the drawer there, please?” She pointed out to him.
He collected them, perking his lips as he glanced over at her.
“This one?” he asked, standing next to a set of draws.
“Yes.”
“The top one?”
“The second one.”
“From the bottom?”
“From the top.”
“On the left?”
“Yes.”
“This left?”
She clenched her fingers, taking in a deep breath. “Yes.”
“It’s a large drawer. Where do you want me to put it?”
She marched over to him and took the placemats from him. “They’re just placemats, Ashton.” She threw them into the drawer and slammed it shut before turning back to her dishes again.
He ambled up to her, leaning against the sink bench, watching her. Her body swayed to and fro as she scrubbed vigorously at a pot. Her movements raised an uneasy spark in him, recollecting memories of her when she swayed to a different beat on that first night when she solely belonged to him. He shuffled his feet, crossing his legs to ease the discomfiture he was beginning to feel between them.
“Must you stand there?” she grumbled.
“Excuse me?” He cleared his throat.
“You’ve been standing there, staring at me. And it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“I thought we could talk…”
“I’d rather not.” She cut him. “At least, not now.” She wiped her hands and moved away from him, trying to maintain a safe distance between them.
Each movement she made, the way she ran her hand over her dark hair, biting the corner of her trembling lower lip, excited him. He would never have thought he would notice such minute gestures in her. He was meant to sever all ties with her. Instead, he was finding that he was tangling himself in his own desires for her.
“I just wanted to know how you were doing,” he said.
“Don’t you think it would be better if we kept our conversations relevant to Ash?” she said shakily.
He raised his brow. “Everything is not just about Ash, Christy. I chased your ghost for eleven years. You owe me some explanation as to where you had been all this time, what happened in all these years.”
Her eyes grew cold, her face tensed from the growing rage inside her. “I owe you nothing. You married me for the wrong reasons. If you chased me, then you did so for your own selfish purpose to ease your own guilty conscience. It had nothing to do with
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