Chapter 15

Ashley

Gina reverted to form today. Well, not exactly. She was nicer to me than she used to be, but the warm fuzzies that came with her confession about David and Nikki? Those are long gone. Still, she doesn't give me a hard time when I ask to go a few minutes early to get myself cleaned up before Ford comes to pick me up.

"Date?"

"Not exactly," I say. "I'm going with Ford to meet with his daughter's counselor." Maybe I shouldn't have told her that. I don't know. I don't know what Ford and I are to each other and he may or may not want everyone knowing that Felicity is seeing someone. Of course, it wouldn't be a suprise. Everybody in town knows what her mom put her through. All the drugs, all the random men traipsing through their house and poor Felicity being stuck there, locked in her closet either because she'd been put there by her mother or because she'd hidden herself in there to get away from it all. And that's just the shit we know about. I can't imagine the things that aren't public knowledge.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Gina asks. "Ford's nice enough but trouble has followed that boy since the day he was born."

"We're friends. Neighbors," I lie. "He's just nervous about meeting with Felicity's therapist."

"Well, be careful. Men can't be trusted," she says. "And the more handsome they are, the truer that statement becomes. But go ahead … that little girl needs somebody else in her corner. Heaven knows she's not had enough people to stand up for her in her life."

And that's why Gina said yes. Not for Ford or for me. But for Felicity, because whatever her faults might be, she loves kids. It hits me then just how hard it must be for her, wanting something so badly and having it always be out of reach while other women, who don't fucking deserve them, can pop out a kid any damn time they want. How the hell do you tell someone you're sorry for that? You don't. Bottom line, don't ever bring up another woman's fertility or lack thereof. That's a subject that is only ever to be broached by the person directly impacted by it. "Thank you, Gina. And she's a great kid. She's become my little buddy since moving to Dixie Plaza."

Gina just nods and I know the conversation is closed. Heading to the backroom, I grab my stuff out of the locker and head to the to change. It's just jeans and a nice top, but it's better than the soul‐crushing khakis and desexualizing polo shirt that are required for work. I tidy my hair and then put on some lip gloss. It's effort, but not an obvious effort. I hope.

When I get back up front, Ford is there. He's talking to Gina but it's obvious that he's uncomfortable. "Hey. I'm ready to go if you are," I say.

"Sure thing. See you around, Gina." He offers a little wave with the goodbye and then we're out the door, headed for his SUV. "I'll bring you back for your car after, if that's okay?"

"That's perfect." I don't have the extra gas money to drive anywhere other than work and home. It's not even that the school is that far away. My car is just a gas‐guzzling piece of shit.

He opens the door for me, and I raise my eyebrows. We're not those people.

"Don't make it weird," he snarks. "Just get your ass in the car."

That's more like it.

Twenty minutes later, we're in hard plastic chairs outside a closet turned conference room at the elementary school. If Ford was any more nervous, he'd be hanging from the ceiling like a startled cat. His leg is bouncing next to mine at the speed of light, making all the loose nuts and bolts of the ancient chairs rattle. To preserve my ass from hitting the hard tile, I put my hand on his thigh. "Stop. It's fine."

I turn my head to see the counselor standing in the doorway. She's young—well, young‐ish. Older than us, but not the decrepit old biddy I'd been imagining. She's pretty, too, but clearly dressing to hide that.

Ford gets to his feet. "I want Ashley with me. There's nothing that she can't hear."

That feels big. Scary big.

"Sure. I'll need you to sign a release, but once that's done, we can dive in … Ashley?"

"Douglas," I reply.

She smiles. "I'm Ava Stanfield. But you can just call me Ava."

"Ava," I acknowledge the offer with a returned smile. It's all so freaking polite it feels like I'm choking on it.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ashley," she says and there's a warmth in her voice that lets me know things are going way better than Ford thinks. "Come on into the ‘office', if we can call this broom closet such a thing."

A few minutes later, we're seated on one side of a folding table and she's on the other. The paperwork has all been signed and now we're waiting for the hammer to fall.

She tucks the form Ford just signed into a folder and then folds her hands on the table in front of her. "First, let me tell you that Felicity is a remarkably resilient little girl. She's smart and funny and so sweet. I love working with her and I can tell, Ford, that you're putting in the work with her."

He relaxes for the first time since he picked me up. "It feels like there's a but in there."

"No buts," she says. "You're doing wonderfully with her. And I want you to know that hasn't gone unnoticed. I also want you to know that I'm making recommendations to her social worker that they give you permanent, sole custody of her. I can't guarantee that, but I will offer my expert testimony to the fact that you are providing a stable and loving home for her."

The breath rushes out of him, and I realize that my own heart is pounding in my chest.

She turns to look at me. "And you've been a wonderful influence for her, Ashley. Felicity is very fond of you … she looks up to you and sees you as sort of an aspirational figure."

"Oh, god, I really hope not. There's nothing aspirational about my life."

Ava's expression is a little sad. "Isn't there? You've had some setbacks, I know. But you're kind. You make time for a little girl who is no relation to you at all. There's something to be said for all of that … Now—bear in mind—you do need to be cautious about the level of attachment you allow to develop. Felicity feels the absence of her mother greatly. Despite all the trauma her mother caused for her, there is still love there, even if it is strongly intertwined with fear."

Praise and caution neatly packaged together. Where the hell was someone like Ava Stanfield when I was a kid?

It's a lot to think about. A lot to take on. I'm not ready to be anyone's permanent anything. Wife, lover, friend … mother. Stepmom. Bonus mom. What the fuck ever anyone wants to call it. And it's not like Ford has asked me to be any of those things to him or Felicity. We're friends. We're neighbors. We're temporary. I need to remember that and so does he.