Face the Music Read online

  Elliot comes running down the hallway. “Thank goodness you’re home!”

  I scoop her up into my arms. “Wow, what a greeting.”

  Her arms wrap tightly around my neck. “Abby makes me do math flash cards and says television is bad for my brain.”

  I kiss her temple. “That sounds like fun.”

  Kind of intense, but learning can be fun too.

  “Mr. Langley.” Abby gathers her things. Is that a briefcase? “Dinner is in the crockpot. There’s a list of groceries on the fridge I’ll need to pick up tomorrow if you want to leave me some money, or I’ll invoice you for the expense.”

  “That’s great, thank you. I’ll leave money.”

  She doesn’t smile. I’ve never seen a girl in her twenties this serious. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Elliot.”

  Elliot and I watch her walk to her conservative Kia.

  Once she drives away, Elliot says, “Can I please watch TV now?”

  “Sure.” I set her down.

  She points at the top of the bookshelf. “The remote is up there. Abby says out of sight out of mind, whatever that means.”

  I pull it down and hand it to her. “You and her getting along okay?”

  “I guess. I think she’d make a better teacher than a nanny.”

  “You’re probably right. But at least she keeps you safe.”

  “I miss Ashleigh,” she says mostly to herself.

  My chest cramps a little and I step away. Yeah, I miss her a little bit too.

  * * *

  “Ben?” Donna pokes her head into my office on Friday just after noon. “Your brother’s on the phone.”

  Since Abby started on Tuesday, things have been quiet at home. Even Elliot’s been moping with Ashleigh’s absence. I buried myself in work all week, fine-tuning my sermon for Sunday and ignoring the dull ache in my chest when I think about Ashleigh’s betrayal.

  I don’t lift my head from my computer to answer Donna. “Tell him I’ll call him later.”

  “I tried that when he called the last four times. He keeps calling.”

  “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “I told him that too. He keeps calling.”

  I spot my phone on my desk. Thirty-five missed calls from Jesiah before noon. “I don’t know what to tell you. Take the phone off the hook.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to him? He says it’s important. What if something’s wrong?”

  Something is wrong all right. I made the mistake of reading the text messages he sent me last night. Apparently Bethany and Ashleigh have spoken. I don’t know exactly what he knows, but his multiple texts calling me a “pussy bitch” gave me some indication that he doesn’t approve of Ashleigh and me going separate ways.

  I sigh and look at Donna, who looks concerned. “Try one more time, please.”

  She ducks out of the door. I hear her mumbling something before the sound of her feet on the carpet, and she pops her head back in. “He said, and I quote with slight modifications, ‘Tell that emmer-effer that I’ll drive to his house and effing kill him if he doesn’t take my GD call right effing now.’” She raises her brows.

  I snag the phone and hit line one. “What.”

  “You dumb motherfucker.”

  I roll my eyes and slump back in my seat. Donna backs away and closes the door as if somehow my brother’s voice could be heard through the receiver and broadcast to anyone in the vicinity. “Nice to hear from you too, Jesiah.”

  “What is this shit I hear from Bethany—”

  “Don’t get involved.”

  “Don’t get involved? Is that what you just said to me? Don’t get involved? My wife is a mess!”

  “Why? This is my life, not hers. Not yours. Mine.”

  “Did you ever stop to consider for one minute that you’re not nearly as smart as you think?”

  “All the time.” My stupidity and gullibility is what got me into this mess.

  “You need to talk to Ashleigh.”

  “I don’t need to do shit.” I rock back in my chair. “Did she put you up to this?” Does she want to talk to me? A wave of butterflies kicks in my gut.

  “No, I’m pretty sure she wants nothing to do with you after the shit you pulled.”

  “The shit I pulled?” I laugh. “You have no idea what she did.”

  “I have more of an idea than you do, trust me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just talk to her. Get her side of the story.”

  “I don’t need to hear her side. I saw it with my own eyes. She is not the woman I thought she was.”

  “No, dumbfuck. She is the woman you thought she was, and that scares the shit out of you, so you tricked yourself into believing she’s the kind of woman she thinks she is.”

  I blink and try to decipher what the hell he just said.

  “If you don’t talk to her, you’ll live the rest of your life regretting what you could’ve had.”

  “Even if I did want to talk to her, which I don’t, I don’t think she’ll talk to me.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m gonna let you go. Have fun living out the rest of your days in your own grave, idiot.”

  The phone goes dead.

  I stare at it, then hang it up and try to figure out what exactly Jes said.

  She is the woman I think she is, and that scares the shit out of me, so I tricked myself into believing she’s the kind of woman she thinks she is.

  I pick up my cell phone, scroll to Ashleigh’s number, and my thumb hovers over the Call button.

  Does part of me miss her? Yes.

  Is life a little too quiet, a little too black and white without her? Yes.

  Is life easier without her? Yes.

  I put my phone down and go back to my sermon.

  Ashleigh

  “Fuck, tonight was insane,” Billy, one of the bouncers at Crush, sits beside me at the bar as I settle up my drawer and count my tips. “Eight fake IDs, three fights.” He shakes his head. “Is it a full moon?”

  I add up the last couple numbers and slip the cash into a deposit bag. “No, but it’s prom weekend.”

  Billy’s a decent-looking guy. He’s a personal trainer in the day and picks up a few shifts here at night. His body looks like it’s been carved by Da Vinci himself, but that’s not Billy’s best quality. He’s a genuinely nice person. Looking at him now, his dirty-blond hair, bright blue eyes, dimple on one side, it’s a wonder I’ve never pursued him.

  Too clean. I only go for the dirty boys.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You look like someone just stole your only cookie.”

  See what I mean? Too nice. Which is why I would never allow myself to fall for him. In these last few days after being fired by Ben, I’ve done a lot of soul-searching to figure out where things went wrong, and I realized something about myself. I only sleep with men who don’t attach. Nice guys? The kind who might be looking for a relationship, like Billy here? Those men don’t ping my radar.

  Ben Langley being the only exception.

  I don’t know why I allowed things to go as far as they did. I was content to keep my crush for the rest of my life, watching him and appreciating him from a distance. If I’m being honest with myself, I may have allowed things to go further because I knew he was still in love with Maggie. I knew that no matter how many dates we went on or kisses we shared, he would never allow things to go too far. So I let myself get swept up in the idea of being with him. My mistake. Ben is the type of man a woman like me could get addicted to and fast. And I did. Which is why I didn’t put up a fight when he kicked me out and fired me. He did the right thing.

  I should’ve known better than to get involved with my pastor, because now not only did I lose Ben, but I’ve lost my church too. And Elliot. That little midget was cool as shit. Now the only people I have in my life are Stormie and fucking Anthony.

  “I’m fine,” I answer Billy. “Long night. I’m ready to get out of here.” I gather my things.
“Working tomorrow?”

  His smile is sweet, as if he’s flattered I’d ask. Oh no, Billy, don’t get the wrong idea. I am done with good men. Learned my lesson.

  “Yeah.” He stands with me. He’s at least six-three and built like a Mack truck. “Maybe after work tomorrow night, we could grab a drink or a bite to eat?”

  I sigh and look at my feet. “Shit.”

  He chuckles. “Or not.”

  I look at him, and he’s clearly uncomfortable and a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, it’s not you. I just recently broke up with someone and I’m going to take some time off.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “I understand. If you change your mind…”

  I won’t. “You’ll be the first to know.” I squeeze his massive forearm as I walk away.

  Anthony’s behind the bar, scowling between Billy and me. “Classy.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I should walk away, but fuck him.

  Anthony pawed at me all night behind the bar, treating me like I was his property. I’ve been itching to rip someone a new asshole, and Anthony’s pushing all my buttons.

  He smirks. “Is there one guy who works here who you haven’t fucked?”

  A surge of unwanted emotion builds in my chest and crawls up my throat.

  He laughs, and I can’t blame him. I probably would’ve laughed too, even made some snide remark about how Billy would be my full house, but not after Ben. He saw me. Hell, I don’t know how he saw me, but he didn’t see my past, only the Ashleigh standing in front of him. He trusted me with his child, took me out on a date. His innocent touch felt more erotic than my wildest sexual experience, but in the end, he saw me for who I really am. Not good enough.

  “Only the ones who are too good for me,” I say sadly and catch Anthony’s frown as I pass him.

  I’m in a tired haze as I drop my deposit and paperwork, snag my purse, and wave to security as they watch me walk to my car. I climb inside, dig my keys and phone from my bag, and see I have a new text.

  It’s from Ben.

  My pulse quickens. I’m afraid to open it. I’m still raw, and one wrong word from Ben has the power to annihilate me. At first I think I’ll leave it unread until I get home, but I’ll never be able to focus enough to drive, so like a Band-Aid, I hit the text icon and read.

  I owe you an apology. Call me when you get this. I don’t care how late.

  There’s no way I can handle talking to Ben right now, but I know he’ll see I read the text, so rather than call, I text him back.

  No apologies. You did the right thing.

  I want to ask him to tell Elliot I miss her but decide it’s best to leave his daughter out of it and hit Send. I put my phone in my cup holder, fire up the engine, and head home. I’m not out of the parking lot when my phone rings.

  Shit! It’s Ben. And he knows I have my phone, so I can’t send it to voicemail.

  In a panic, I answer. “Hello?”

  “Ash, hey.” He sounds tired. His voice is soft as if he either just woke up or maybe doesn’t want to wake Elliot. “Are you home?”

  “No, I’m leaving work.”

  “How are you?”

  I roll my eyes. He was much easier to blow off when he was being an asshole, and even then, it was hard to walk away. “You don’t have to do this, okay? I told you, I’m fine with the way things are between us.” Not really, but… “It’s for the best.”

  “Come over.”

  “What?” Is he out of his mind? “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

  “I know, and I really need to talk to you, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. I’d come to you, but I can’t leave Elliot. Please, it’ll only take a second.”

  “Ben—”

  “You don’t even have to come inside. I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

  “Why can’t you say whatever it is you have to say over the phone?” It’ll be easier this way, because being in Ben’s presence makes me lose all brain cell function.

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Um, okay, scary guy, no thanks.”

  “Ash. Come over.”

  My name is warning—and there I go feeling myself go pliant under his firm command. “Fine, but make it quick. I’m tired.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  “I’ll be there in five.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bye.”

  “Don’t hang up. Let’s talk until you get here.”

  Talk until I get there? “Ben, are you sure everything is okay?”

  “I’m fine, I just…” He blows out a breath and I hear the soft click of a door. “I miss your voice.”

  Thank God I’m the only person on the road at this time of night because his confession makes me swerve.

  “What have you been up to this last week and a half?”

  “Nothing really. Same old stuff.” Moping. Thinking back on my life and regretting almost every decision I’ve ever made. “How’s Elliot?”

  “She’s… good.”

  “That’s good.” Of course she’s good. She probably has the best nanny money can buy. “Listen, I’m sorry about bailing on the volunteer thing. I should’ve warned you that I’m pretty flaky. I never should’ve signed up in the first place.”

  “Is that you? I see headlights?”

  “Yeah,” I say as I pull up to his house.

  I watch him end our call and stuff his phone into his back pocket. I turn off the car and hop out as he makes it to me. He’s wearing sweatpants and a faded T-shirt. His hair is a mess, how I would imagine his hair would be if he went to sleep with it wet or had been running his fingers through it all night.

  “Thanks for coming over,” he says.

  With nothing to light his face except for the distant streetlight and the dim glow from his year-round one string of Christmas lights around his front door, he looks more ominous than I’ve seen ever him. Or maybe it’s because the last time I saw him, he was so angry. Either way, I brace for what he has to say.

  “I really am tired. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  He crosses his arms. “I talked to Elliot about what happened with her mother’s things.”

  I don’t dare say a word to contradict whatever lie Elliot may have told him.

  “You didn’t go into Maggie’s closet that day. You didn’t even go into my room.”

  “No.” I’m too tired to argue. “You made me drive over here for this?”

  He steps closer, and I retreat until my back hits my car. “I need to look into your eyes when we talk. Believe it or not, Ashleigh, your eyes hide nothing.”

  “It’s dark, you can’t even see them.” Why do I sound breathless?

  “I can see them just fine.” He tilts his head. “Why did you lie about the clothes?”

  “I didn’t. I just didn’t correct your assumption. You wanted it to be me. Easier to push me away if I did something unforgiveable.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I turn away, looking down the dark neighborhood street. “You were so mad, and Elliot was crying. I didn’t want you to punish her any more than she was punishing herself.”

  “But you let me punish you.” When I don’t respond, he drops his gaze to the ground with a mumbled, “You were right. I’m a fucked up mess.”

  “Don’t sweat it.” I shrug half-heartedly. “It was for the best.”

  His gaze snaps to mine and narrows. “That Sunday I showed up on your doorstep…”

  Oh shit. If I avoid his eyes, he’ll know I’m hiding something. I hope my eyes don’t give me away as I stare into his.

  “Were you and Anthony together that night?”

  I don’t say a single word, yet he huffs as if my silence was enough of an answer.

  “You wanted me to believe you two had been together.”

  “You created your own narrative. I just didn’t correct you.”

  “Why?” He takes an angry step forward. “Why didn’t you set me st
raight? You say it’s me looking for an excuse to push you away, but you’re doing the same thing.” His eyes search mine. “You want me to believe the worst about you.” It’s easier to have him hate me than for me to admit I’m falling for him and risk the inevitable rejection. He continues to look deep in my eyes, and when my first tear swells, his expression falls. “You pushed me away. Anthony was unexpected but worked to further your cause.”

  “Ben—”

  “Why?” A little of the anger I witnessed in him the other night is back. His jaw pulses, his hands clamped tightly under his biceps.

  I exhale hard and fall back against my car. This is what I wanted, so why the fuck am I trying so hard not to cry?

  “Ashleigh, talk to me. You promised me whatever you were thinking, you’d talk to me before you made any decisions, but you didn’t, did you?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Rather than come to me like a fucking adult, you made the choice to let me think the worst of you—”

  “Oh please, don’t pretend it took much coaxing. You never gave me the benefit of the doubt. You immediately assumed I was the type of girl who would kiss you in the day and fuck Anthony at night and dig through your deceased wife’s closet.”

  His lips clamp shut.

  “I get it, okay? And honestly, I don’t even blame you.” Defeat rolls my shoulders forward. “I got caught up in… in…” My voice cracks. I shake my head, unable to go on.

  He steps into my space, his bare feet caging in my heels as he wraps both big arms around me and pulls me to his chest. I want to be stiff, pat his back twice, and have him release me, but I’m not that strong. I wrap my arms around his waist, push deeper into his embrace, and fall loosely against him. Our bodies are touching from our thighs up, but I’m not focused on his body parts or how they feel pressed to mine. All I can think about is how I’ve never felt safer, more accepted, dare I say even loved as I do right now in Ben’s arms.

  I’m sure it’s the pastor in him. Ben was trained to love all people, regardless of their history, and he’s good at it, so I’ll take it for this brief amount of time he’s offering it.