Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

"Why are you avoiding me?" Aria demands when I finally answer her call. "I've left five messages. Ash is burning up my phone because he can't find you, and you left without saying a word."

"I left him a note," I say, blinking back tears.

"He told me. A note that said you couldn't do it. That you couldn't trust yourself. Bree, honey, what the hell is going on?"

"I needed space."

"I've seen the tabloid pictures of you two. There was like zero space between you, and you both look blissfully happy."

I was. We were. But I don't say that out loud.

"Come on, it's me. Tell me what's going on. I mapped you. I know you're in New York. But didn't you tell me just last night that you and Ash were going to head back to LA for a few days, then turn back around for Austin? Although why you were so excited to help renovate his house when there's so much work to do on this one is beyond me. Except it's not," she adds, "because Ash . So, what the hell happened?"

I pull my bare feet up onto the chaise in my parents' sitting area and hug my knees. "Plans change."

"Dammit, Bree, it's me."

"I just—I just want to be home when my parents get back from the cruise."

"Uh-huh. And they're not home for another three days."

"Yeah, well, my agent set up a signing in Manhattan, too."

"I know. You forwarded the text yesterday. That's almost a week away."

"I want to get situated. Clean the house for Mom and Dad. And I want to talk to talk to Daddy's doctors so I can research protocols.

"So, you have good reasons to be there."

"Well, yeah," I say.

"Except they're all stupid, too."

"What are you talking about?"

"Call him. Talk to him."

"I will," I say, covering the lie with a shrug.

"Dammit, Bree. Ash isn't Rory."

I cringe, my body going stiff. "I never said he was. And it's not about Ash. It's about me."

"See? There is something. This isn't about the cruise or a book signing. Come on, girl. It's me. Tell me what is going on in that very imaginative head of yours."

"Why is this such a big deal to you? When did you become such an Ash fan?"

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe when I talked to you and heard boatloads of happiness in your voice. When I saw the way he looks at you in all those tabloid pictures. And the way you look back at him. Hell, girl. You glow in those pics."

I scrub my palms over my face, then adjust my ear pod. "I used to be happy with Rory, remember? And I thought Kari was my friend. And even though I knew Maggie Bridge was trouble, I never saw this coming."

"That's totally different," Aria says.

"Except it's not." I taste salt and realize I'm crying. "I didn't really see any of them. So how the hell can I trust that Ash is what I think he is?"

"This has happened before, remember?" Her voice has turned gentle. "You had a scary dream, but you got past it. And then you fell in love with him."

Her words squeeze my heart. And the truth is, I want to believe that. I want to trust in what I feel. In what my heart knows.

Except I don't trust my heart. Not anymore.

I don't think I ever will again.

"I like you, Ash," Aria said, sitting across from him in a Burbank Starbucks. "I really, really do. But I can't tell you where she is." She held up a fist of solidarity. Sacred Girl Code."

He'd flown in that morning, assuming that Bree had gone home. So far, though, he hadn't found her. Thankfully, Aria had agreed to meet him, though she'd made clear that she wasn't promising to help and could only talk for a few minutes.

"She's making a mistake," he said.

Aria nodded. "Totally agree. I told you. I like you."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"If I guess, will you tell me?"

She bit her lower lip, then shook her head. A second later, her phone chimed. "That's my alarm. I need to run. I got booked as an extra today in a crowd scene."

"Sounds like fun."

She stood, started to reach for her phone, then froze. "So, listen. Would you mind hanging here for a bit while I hit the ladies room? Keep an eye on my purse and phone?"

"Not at all."

He'd expected her to hurry off. Instead, she lingered, fiddling with her phone. Then she put it on the table and smiled at him before heading to the restroom.

He didn't much think about it. At least not until a minute later when an alarm chimed, flashing a message that said Open Me - 5721.

With curiosity and hope fluttering in his chest, he picked up the phone, silenced the alarm, and tapped in the code.

The lock screen disappeared, leaving him staring at her locator app.

And right there was the button to locate "Bestie Bree."

"Aria," he whispered as he tapped the link. "I owe you one."

The dappled sun makes patterns on the walkway as I stroll through Central Park with my parents. They arrived yesterday, and today's a good day for my dad. He's telling me the story of how he and my mom met by the little lake with the toy sailboats. "And when you came along, we used to take you there," he says. "Do you remember?"

"Of course. I loved it there. Still do."

He pauses, then looks at me with a goofy grin. "Talia, Talia, it is so good to have you back."

A few steps ahead of us, my mother pauses, then turns to look back at us, her sad eyes betraying what she overheard and the smile she's forcing. "We should probably turn around and head home. It's almost time for lunch."

"Yes, yes," my father says, then takes my hand. "Come, Talia. You heard Mother."

I meet my mom's eyes, both of us knowing he wasn't referring to her, but to his own mother. And as for me, I'm his sister. My Aunt Talia.

"Come walk with me, Samuel," my mother says, and my father obediently turns and goes to her. I send her a small smile, then face forward as I blink back tears. I've been home a week now, and my father's decline has me feeling like I'm sliding down, too. I honestly don't know how my mom has coped.

I hang back a bit as they walk past me, trying to clear my head of sad thoughts. My dad. Ash.

Ash .

I miss him so much, but I know I made the right choice.

I know, because that's what I tell myself every night when I go to bed… and every morning when I wake up nightmare free.

Except…

I sigh, then relax, allowing the errant thought into my head. Except I miss him. Every night he visits my dreams, and sometimes he's Rory and sometimes he's not.

I want him—I do. But I fear that I don't really know him.

And I still don't trust my judgment.

I tell myself to stop it. I don't want to reach the house only to have my mom look at my face and see what's been weighing on me. She's been trying to help, but since my mom is all about stability, her idea of helping is to tell me not to think about Ash and to instead focus on my writing.

Which would be great if I was one of those writers who is inspired by emotional turmoil. I'd be cranking out the pages like crazy.

But that's not me.

I'm the kind of writer where my turmoil fills my brain, leaving very little room for stories, and forcing me to sneak out words when my otherwise overactive brain isn't looking.

Fortunately, I've managed to get enough writing done to have a spicy excerpt from the upcoming book to read at the signing next week. Hopefully, readers will like it.

For that matter, hopefully readers will show up.

I roll my eyes at my torrent of negativity. The last time I remember truly smiling was when I was with Ash.

Stop it .

I pick up my pace and am close to catching up with my parents when my phone chimes an incoming message. I snatch it out of my back pocket, then sag a bit when I see that it's Aria.

Because, yeah, I was hoping it was Ash.

Turn around.

I frown at the message but do as it says. And when I do, there she is, arms outstretched as she flies down the path and gathers me in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" I ask after we quit bouncing up and down.

"Airline miles! Figured I'd come see you and my parents. I just knew you needed my smiling face."

"I do," I say, hugging her again. I really do."

I tap out a quick text to tell my mom that I'll be lagging behind, then I grab Aria's hand and swing it as we stroll. "Everything's good," I say before she can ask. "And I haven't talked to Ash."

"What's Teresa saying?"

I scowl. "Wise stuff."

Aria rolls her hand in a tell me gesture.

"You know," I say. "That we've done a lot of work over the years. That I'm stronger than I think. That I need to trust myself and realize that sometimes a nightmare is a nightmare and not my subconscious whispering secrets."

"Sounds like good advice to me."

I shrug. She's not wrong. But knowing that and knowing that are two entirely different things.

"Oh!" She stops to dig in her giant tote bag. "Did you see this?"

She passes me a printout of an article. I start to skim it as we walk, then stop, standing still as I read every word in the article.

"Damien's invested in the INX-20?"

"That's what it says. Ash asked him to. Said he knows that Damien believes in the motor, and that he knows how much Damien admires all the work and research Ash has put into it. And when it became clear to Ash that he needed another investor, he wanted to go to the man who'd not only believed in the project from the beginning, but who'd given Ash a chance even when Ash hadn't extended the same courtesy."

"That's great," I say, fighting the urge to pull out my phone and text Ash. But what would I say? That I was proud of him seemed too pedantic. And that I missed him cut too close to the truth.

So instead, I say nothing at all. I just turn to Aria and tell her we should try and catch a show tonight. And though I can tell she wants to steer the conversation to Ash, because she's my bestie, she just falls into step beside me and suggests we go see Wicked for the eight millionth time.