Page 4 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

CHAPTER THREE

SAM

“Is that what I think it is?” Ash asks from behind me as I pull the copper skillet from the oven.

I straighten up and put the hot pan down on the stove top before flicking the tea towel I’m holding over my shoulder. Turning around, I find her just inside the double doors. She pushes up one long sleeve of my oversized hoody until the opening sits snugly at her elbow. She always did look gorgeous in it. Young too. A little lost. She shoves her hands in the pockets and pulls out a candy wrapper. Mentos. The mint ones. She tears at the paper to reveal a solitary candy. “Please tell me this hasn’t been in your pocket all this time.”

I shrug. I’ve barely worn it since she left, but I found myself playing with that almost empty roll every time I did. I can’t help that she was a little obsessed with them and this hoody. Or that I couldn’t manage to throw it away. I tried to. A few times. But it always ended up back in the box in the bottom of my closet. “I guess. I pulled it out of storage.”

“Oh.” She glances around the room before deciding to shove it back in the pocket. “This used to be your favorite hoody.”

“That was a long time ago. What? I would have still been in my early twenties.” And she’d been fourteen. Just a troubled teen who needed someone to talk to while I walked her to her house. When her dad was home for a few weeks she started spending more and more time at our house, with and without Summer around. She couldn’t stand to be there when he was. It was too difficult. That was always the worst part, she told me. Having him so close made her feel lonelier than ever. Especially when he looked through her, like she didn’t exist in the first place.

We’d walked miles along the beach that night, gritty sand coating our bare feet, clear water washing up and over our toes. The bottom of her jeans were wet from it. We’d crossed from the public end of the beach to the private section that ran the length of both our houses. She didn’t want to go back, and I almost suggested she come home with me, except Summer was away with our parents for the weekend, and it didn’t seem quite right to let her stay when it was just the two of us.

The wind had picked up as we’d rounded the curve that led to the steps carved into the beach. Her house was at the top of those stairs. The lights from inside illuminated the sand. Neither of us were quite ready to go back inside. The breeze had whipped strands of hair across her face and into her eyes. Christ, I’d had the urge to push it behind her ear. I hadn’t though. Hadn’t touched her at all. Hadn’t allowed myself to hold onto the idea, let it scatter like sand in the wind. It was nothing at all. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms and over the goose bumps that dotted her skin. Without a word, I’d taken off my sweater and handed it to her. It took years to get it back.

Ash walks across the room to look in the pan. A lock of her hair falls in her face, and I get that same urge to push it behind her ear as she turns her gaze on me. “You still make these?”

“They’re on the menu.” I jump into action, tossing thick slices of bread under the grill. I wasn’t prepared for her to show up here. Why wasn’t I? After Ru had played her video I should have expected it. Only I told her not to come to me anymore. And for years she’s done just as I’d asked and stayed away.

Now, am I supposed to ask her how she ended up on the internet and why? It’s not like what she does with her life is any of my business these days. She’s been clear about that since the day I told her she couldn’t bring her problems to my door. Although that doesn’t make it any easier to pretend I don’t give a shit.

“I haven’t had these in...” She rests against the cupboards, arms folded over her belly, thoughtful.

“Five years,” I say. When I thought we might find a different future than this one. “The last time you stayed with me.”

“Oh.” She glances at the cutlery, reaches out to straighten the fork against the knife. “I guess it was that long ago. That would make sense.”

“Yeah.” I pull the toasted bread out from under the grill and plate up, ladling meatballs on top, then adding a few flakes of parmesan.

“So now you serve them here?” She puts her nose to the steam and inhales.

“They’re a popular choice.” I half shrug, handing her the plate. What was I supposed to do? Forget how to cook them because she wasn’t around to eat them anymore?

“I’m not surprised.” She gives me a tortured smile that doesn’t make it to her eyes as she trails off. “I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

“We’ve both been busy. Besides, it’s not like you don’t visit Summer. We still see each other.” Sometimes. A handful of not quite comfortable minutes shared between us. Like we’re stuck in limbo. Can’t move forward, can’t go back.

I push open the kitchen doors, wait for her to pass beneath my arm while I ignore her clean Ash scent that used to bring me to my knees. We’ve done well putting all our bullshit behind us. Until tonight. Until she ran to me like she always has. And that video. I’ve never been so conflicted. I couldn’t stop my dick from reacting to her, couldn’t help the anger and disappointment that flooded my senses.

“On the bar? Cognac?” She makes a beeline for the stools lined up alongside it, puts her plate down and reaches for the bottle.

“Good idea,” I say, getting her a glass and taking back the bottle she’s about to swig from. Christ, I need some perspective.

“I’m going to call a cab,” she says, cutting into a meatball until it crumbles, then swirling it through the sauce before popping it into her mouth. She makes this little humming noise that bounces around in my brain along with the audio I can’t shut off. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Ash.”

“I am. I always have been.” She leans over her knife and fork, frozen. Then she focuses on her plate. “I told you that last time. Remember. I told you. And you agreed.”

“That’s not what I said.” How can she put those words in my mouth? “And that was the time before last.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head without looking up. “I’m all grown up now, I’m supposed to have my shit together. And my being here is a bad idea for both of us.”

“Damn it, Ash.” I set down my cutlery, any interest in food gone. “You came here because you need someone in your corner. You came to me.”

“That’s the point,” she says. “I shouldn’t just show up on your doorstep. Especially now that you’re with Mandy.”

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