Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ASHLEY

My cell rings as I'm stepping out of the shower. I grab a towel, wrap it around my body and run, dripping, across the room to where I left it beside the sink. The caller ID makes me pause before I connect the call.

Scott !

With everything that happened over the past twenty-four hours, I forgot to call him.

"Hey. I'm sorry I didn't call yesterday. It's been a bit chaotic here."

"That's okay, sweetie. I thought you'd want some time to settle in, and catch up with your mom. How is she?"

"She's fine. Busy as ever with her clubs. She has a better social life than I do."

"You don't have a social life." He laughs. "The only time you go out is if me or one of the girls drags you out. So, about yesterday …"

Shit. He told me he loved me. And I drove off without saying anything in return, and I haven't given it another thought since.

There's an awkward silence, at least on my part .

Do I acknowledge he told me he loved me, or do I ignore it?

While I'm arguing with myself, Scott takes the decision out of my hands.

"I know I shocked you yesterday. I hadn't intended on saying anything, but with you rushing off with barely any notice, I wanted to put it out there that, for me, what's going on between us is more than casual."

He pauses. I think he's waiting for me to agree, but I don't say a word.

"Anyway, I don't expect you to say anything right now. There's a lot going on. I just wanted you to know that I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm prepared to wait until you're ready."

"Scott—"

"No, I'm serious, Ashley. I don't want you to say anything right now. It'll keep until you come back home, which I hope will be soon. Just think about something for me, okay?"

"Think about?—"

"I want to marry you. Before you panic, I'm not proposing. I just want it in your head that it's where I see us going."

"Marry?" A detached part of me notes that the hysteria is back in my voice.

"I've surprised you. I'm sorry."

"I just … I didn't …" I don't even know what to say to him. I've never considered what I have with Scott to be that serious.

Yes, I enjoy spending time with him. Yes, I don't think about dating anyone else. Yes, we've been together for three years. But we aren't together all the time . I see him once or twice a week. We go out for a meal, a movie, then go back to his apartment for the night. And we don't even do that every single time I see him.

I don't keep anything of mine at his place, other than a toothbrush. I don't have the ‘drawer' that comes with a committed relationship. And he doesn't have any of those things at my place.

Have I really been that oblivious?

"Ashley?"

"I'm sorry, Scott. I don't?—"

"Don't answer now. You're dealing with a lot. Take your time and think about it. I am going to ask you to marry me when you come home. But I know how you feel about being put on the spot, so that's why I wanted to let you know … so you can prepare yourself for it. Call me in a couple of days and let me know when you're coming home." He ends the call before I can say a word.

I stand in the bathroom, and stare at the phone in my hand. All I can think about is how I've never given a single thought of getting married … to anyone … and in the space of a couple of hours, I've now had two proposals. And they both have very different reasons for it.

I finish getting dry, then drag on the bathrobe I hung on the door, and go across the hallway to my bedroom. I've set out three different outfits on the bed. Jeans and a plain white T-shirt; black skirt, nylons, a silky black top; and a blazer; and black pants, and a white top, which I'd pair with the blazer from outfit two.

I'm tempted to wear jeans. Zain never gave me any indication of where he is taking me for dinner, so if I'm underdressed that's not my fault, but I'll definitely be more comfortable in jeans and sneakers.

Plus, it's easier to run in sneakers .

Don't be stupid. He's literally only just got out of prison. He's not going to risk doing anything that will put him back in there. People are going to be watching him to see how he behaves. Isn't that the reason he gave you for his proposal? To fix his reputation.

My stomach churns.

How am I supposed to sit down to a meal with the man I saw standing over my brother, covered in his blood, with a knife in his hand?

Order something that's easy to swallow. They'll probably have soup on the menu, wherever we go.

Assuming we go somewhere public, and he doesn't try to take me to wherever he's living for privacy.

I close my eyes, and rub my temple with my fingers. There's a tightness behind my eyes, a knot in my stomach. If I get through the night without a migraine hitting me, it'll be a miracle.

I sit down in front of the mirror on my dresser, and open my makeup bag. I need to put some color in my cheeks. I look like death. And I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that my appearance is his doing.

I'll go for this meal. I'll act like he doesn't scare me. I'll do whatever it takes to get his agreement to leave my mom alone. And then I'll leave Whitstone and never come back.

Laughter echoes around my skull.

Yeah, because that's how it's going to go.