“Fuuuck.” The word escaped my dry mouth as I crossed my legs and sat flat on the floor, staring at the photo in front of me.
It was her.
Ash.
My Ash.
I clutched my head. It hurt from all the spinning it was doing and all the questions racing through it. I hadn’t seen this face in thirteen years. I hadn’t googled her once in all those years for fear that I’d feel exactly like this. I wasn’t on social media either in case she Googled me and reached out. I had done everything possible toneversee this face again, and yet here she was. The locked door at the back of my brain, keeping back all those memories, cracked open even more.
Those eyes.Big and round as ever.
Small, button nose that I used to touch with the tip of my finger. That I used to plant soft kisses on.
Lips. Small lips that almost disappeared when she smiled that megawatt smile. A smile that had the power to knock you off your feet and make time stop. When she smiled at you, everything in the world was perfect.
The fucking door was cracking open even more. I tried to mentally slam it shut, but it was no use. Everything rushed back now.
Kissing those lips, Jesus Christ. There was no better feeling in the entire world. Nothing beat sinking into those lips, into her mouth and tasting her.
“Shit!” I stood up abruptly and ran a hand across my forehead. It was damp with sweat. I had to stop thinking like this. I had to stop staring at her picture and remembering. But I couldn’t.
Her hair was totally different now. It was short, hanging just below her ears. She’d always had this long hair that was always getting knotty, and that I was constantly helping her brush. Sitting behind her on the bed carefully trying to work out the knots that had gathered under her ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her hair was no longer blonde either. She’d clearly stopped bleaching it to within an inch of its life. It was dark and chocolaty brown, just like those manga-sized eyes of hers.
The shape of her face was also different, cheekbones and a sharper jawline had replaced youthful softness. She no longer looked like a girl, with those faint lines by her eyes and mouth, and her face seemed slimmer and longer, but . . .
She was still, without a doubt, the most gorgeous girl—woman now—that I’d ever laid eyes on.
When the initial shock had worn off, the full implications hit me. I had been unknowingly talking to the only woman I had ever loved for the last month. It all made sense now. I’d felt this inexplicable connection to her and I hadn’t known why. Now I knew. This thought scared me so much that I reached for a glass of whiskey in hopes of taking the edge off the painful jagged feeling that was ripping me up inside.
What did this all mean?
“No!” I downed the glass. I was reading too deeply into this. It was thirteen years ago. I was over her. That’s what the last thirteen years of my life had been all about. Getting over her.
Work. Traveling. Sex. Work. Traveling . . .
Sex.
So much meaningless sex.
I shook my head, turned my phone off and tossed it onto my bed. I walked straight into the bathroom and peeled off my clothes. I climbed into the shower and blasted myself with water. I needed to wash it away, these feelings, these thoughts, the sweat that had formed on my forehead and palms. I stood there and let the water rush over me, imagining it taking away all those feelings I didn’t want to be having. I looked down and pictured them all falling into the drain and disappearing once again.
I was over her.
I had to be.
CHAPTER 12
Max
Dear Leigh (or should I call you Ashley, now that I know your real name?)...
———
Dear Max,
You can call me whatever you want—I’ve gotten used to both. Although it was a bit weird going by a different name professionally, but I chose something as close-sounding to my real name as I could. So call me whatever feelseasier.
———
