Page 9 of When I Come Back
“Excuse me?” I jump at the sudden voice coming from a man I’m not familiar with standing right beside me.
When the fuck did he get here?
“Y-yes?” my voice cracks as I try to slow my heart rate.
“I’m sorry to startle you, darlin’. My name is James Elsher. I’m looking for the Grant boys and Ms. Thea Ashford. I’ve tried calling the number I have on file which is for a restaurant without success. This is my next attempt to contact them.” His voice is warm with Southern charm, but he must notice the shock on my face because he hurries to add, “I’m the executor of Hazel and Owen Grant’s will, I just—”
“Right, of course. Let me introduce you to Carrington and Brooks so you can handle that privately with them,” I cut him off before he can say any more, motioning toward the house.
“Thank you, Miss…” his voice trails off, allowing me the opportunity to fill in the blank for him.
“Ashford, actually. I’m Thea.” I turn and start to walk toward the front door when he stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Oh, I actually need to speak to all three of you, if that’s alright,” he says calmly.
The confusion must be evident in my face because he starts shuffling through his papers like he’s checking to make sure he isn’t mistaken in the matter. I glance over at the house to seeCarrington and Brooks standing in the open doorway staring at me and the stranger with matching expressions I can’t place. It looks like protectiveness, but that can’t be right, not from Carrington at least. I haven’t seen that look on his face in years now. Possibly since high school.
“Yes, yes, right here. Thea Carina Ashford. That is your full name, correct?”
“I—yeah, yes, it is. Let me… get them. Do we—is it done here? Now? Or…” I let my voice trail off with my uncertainty. I don’t know anything about wills or how this is handled, and I’m still stunned by his sudden appearance that my thoughts aren’t translating into coherent words.
“No, no, darlin’. We can handle this at my office,” he says as he hands me his card. “It’s in Southbury, if you don’t mind making the drive. I just figure since you’re all three in town currently, this may be the best time.”
I can only assume I’m needed because the restaurant I consider my second home is about to switch hands just as we thought it would.
Despite asking for my help, it’s possible Brooks will destroy RED if the mood strikes him. Carrington will sell it without batting an eye. I won’t be able to win with the two of them. I don’t think I have enough money to buy it from them. All the what-ifs spiral in my head as it finally becomes real that it’s no longer something I can call mine. Mr. Elsher tilts his head down to meet my eyes, my internal struggle must be apparent from the concerned look on his face.
“Ms. Ashford? Would that be okay?” His voice is soft. This is his job, I’m sure he’s had this exact conversation many times. He’s probably watched countless bereaved loved ones try to make sense of the situations they’re left in.
All I can do is nod my head as my fingers find my rings and start twisting them around, letting them ground me enough totake a full breath. They’re all yellow-gold, my favorite. Some of them I’ve had for years, some are new. I never tell anyone this, but a couple of them are from Carrington. I usually don at least one on every finger, and I rotate them out so I’m able to wear them all. Or well, all but one.
There’s exactly one ring I never wear anymore. It’s simple, just a single band with a lemon wedge. I haven’t worn it in years, but I know precisely where it is. I could save it in a fire—and I would. I just won’t wear it. Not anymore.
He places his hand on top of mine causing me to meet his eyes. “I am so sorry for your loss, dear.” Again, all I can bring myself to do is nod as a small sob breaks loose. The first one today. I bring my hand to my lips to keep it from turning into more as he walks away.
It’s not until Carrington and Brooks are walking toward me that I start to wonder how to explain we’re all needed at this meeting.
Carrington is still at least six feet away when he starts speaking to me.
“Who was that?” he says as his eyes meet mine.
I hold the card out for him to take so he can read it for himself. “Your parents had a will. That was their executor. He wants us to meet him at his office for the reading of the will.”
Carrington’s eyes don’t leave mine as he says, “Today?”
“Yes. Now.” I finally break eye contact to look over at Brooks who hasn’t taken his eyes off of the car Mr. Elsher drove off in.
I don’t wait for either of them to say anything else as I start toward my own car. “I’ll meet you there.” I ignore Carrington as he says my name, knowing there is nothing left to say. This isn’t something I know how to deal with or maneuver. There’s no manual for how to handle seeing your ex-boyfriend after almost a decade because his parents, who you were closer to than he was, died. So, I’m choosing not to. I’m choosing to walk awayand drive to the next situation I have no fucking clue how to handle.
I walk into Mr. Elsher’s office to see three chairs lined up in front of his desk. He’s sorting through the piles of paperwork strewn in front of him, so it takes a moment before he realizes I’m even here. His desk is covered in documents and file folders that don’t seem to be in any sort of order, and I wonder how he manages to work at a desk that’s so disorganized.
“Ah, Ms. Ashford, please, take a seat. I presume the Grants are on their way?” he says as he stands up to lean over his desk and shake my hand. The folder he’s holding slips from under his elbow as he extends his hand to me, the papers inside falling to his desk and the floor. He makes a grumbled sound before picking them all up and shuffling them back together.
A lump forms in my throat at the phrasethe Grants. I’m so used to the phrase referring to Hazel and Owen that it hits me out of nowhere. He must realize I haven’t answered, so he raises his gaze to find mine, and I just nod. For someone who usually can’t shut up in stressful or awkward situations, I’m finding it hard to speak to the man in front of me. This is all too surreal.
I sit in the chair closest to the window, furthest from the door, setting my purse down beside me as I wait for Carrington and Brooks to arrive. My leg bounces uncontrollably. I’m already chewing on my bottom lip as Mr. Elsher greets them a few minutes later.
Carrington sits in the middle chair—right beside me, so close I can feel the heat from his arm on mine—leaving the chair closest to the door for Brooks. Not that he sits down in it. He leans up against the door frame, his hands deep in his pockets with a look on his face that says he’s ready to burn the whole world down. Clearly his mood has taken a downturn since I saw him thirty minutes ago.
