Page 4 of Ashes of Us
God, how many of those late-nights had been lies?
I thought of Jenna.
She was younger than me. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. Prettier, probably. I’d barely looked at her today, but I remembered her from the party. Long dark hair, athletic build. She was the kind of girl who made ponytails look intentional and sweat look good. She probably didn't stress-bake at two in the morning. Probably didn't have flour permanently embedded under her fingernails.
She was a firefighter. She did what Liam did, understood his world in a way I never could. When he talked about calls and protocols and the weird hierarchy of station life, she got it. She lived it.
I taught second graders how to share crayons.
My hands were shaking again, so I pressed them flat against the counter.
What did she have that I didn't? What had I done wrong? Was I too boring? Too predictable? Too focused on weddingplanning and lesson plans and whether the buttercream ratio was right?
Had he been thinking about her when he kissed me goodbye this morning?
Had he been thinking about her every time?
I shoved away from the counter and grabbed the flour again.
Yes, that’s what I needed.
More flour. More sugar. More butter.
This time I measured carefully. Like if I could just get the ratios right, everything else would fall into place too.
By the time the second batch went into the oven, my hands were steadier. I started chocolate chip cookies then, the recipe I'd memorized years ago. Cream the butter and sugar. Add the eggs. Stir in the flour and?—
Three sharp knocks at the door.
I froze, wooden spoon halfway to the bowl.
"Piper." Liam’s voice was muffled through the door, but I'd know it anywhere. "Piper, please. I know you're in there."
The doorknob rattled and, just a few seconds after, his key scraped in the lock.
CHAPTER 3: PIPER
The door opened an inch and caught on the deadbolt.
"Piper." Liam's voice was closer now, desperate. "Please. Just let me in."
I could see him through the gap. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed as if he'd been crying. Or maybe he'd just rubbed his eyes to make it look like he had.
"I need to talk to you," he said. "Please, baby. Just open the door."
Baby.
He'd called Jenna baby too, probably. Whispered it against her neck while his hands slid under her shirt.
"Piper, please."
I walked to the door, each step deliberate.
He saw me coming and something like relief flooded his face. "Thank you. Thank you, I just need five minutes to?—"
"How long?" I asked.
His mouth snapped shut.
