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“That was a little harsh,” I observe, and he chuckles to himself.
“I meant it, Ashlee. It’s you and me now, if people I know can’t handle that, too bad. And I don’t feel the need to explain myself to them or anyone. I don’t have to tell them everything about what’s happening in my life.”
It’s a sweet sentiment, but I can’t help but feel bad.
I’d never want to be the wedge that’s driven between Brandon and his friends, or anything else.
But somehow, his calm, deep voice and firm hand around me tell me that despite the little drama, everything’s gonna work out just fine.
I hope he’s right.
Chapter Twenty
Brandon
I feel for Brett, I really do.
Until he tears into me, talking to me like I’m his worst enemy instead of his best friend.
Yeah. I get it. I messed up and I forgot about his wedding rehearsal, but nobody. Not even Brett talks to me that way.
Especially not when Ashlee’s with me.
I keep a lid on things for her sake, telling her the truth when I say I’d gladly give it all away for just one more night with her.
She’s worth it.
Chloe calls me back, right before we’re home to smooth things over, and I have to admit, I lose a little respect for Brett today.
Not even having the guts to phone me back himself to apologize or to stand by his original words?
I guess people change.
Maybe I’ve changed.
In one day, since meeting Ashlee, claiming her as my own.
Our whole lives have changed course, and only for the better.
Putting it aside in my mind just, for now, I’ve never been so glad to see home.
The large double wrought iron gates open as my truck pulls into the white gravel driveway, arching around to the front of the house.
It’s two stories of the house I always dreamed of as a kid.
As an adult, the man who built it too, it’s a mowing headache and a bitch to keep clean. But it’s my castle.
All of it makes sense when I see Ashlee’s face light up as we get closer.
“Is this real?” She gasps.
“This is it,” I tell her, relieved. “Home.”
Pulling up by the front door, I watch her as I kill the engine. Her whole expression lit up, fixed on the house. It’s like she can see what I can when I look at it now.
The two of us here, with a houseful of kids running around.
“It’s… It’s just beautiful,” she whispers to herself.
“It sure is,” I remark, curling her hair back over her ear, looking at her as if it’s for the first time. Seeing just how much more beautiful she really is now that she’s home with me.
I want to carry her inside, but figure she might be over the whole bride-wedding reference thing.
I know I’m over it for today.
Other people’s weddings that is.
If it’s so important why not just go get the paperwork signed? Why the big song and dance?
Maybe because a man loves his woman and wants to have a memory to last a lifetime.
I surprise myself with the thought.
I’ve never even considered it that way.
I feel a sudden pang of guilt about missing Brett’s rehearsal.
This whole love thing, being in love with someone is all new to me.
I’d never stopped to consider how Brett might feel about Chloe.
About how he might be prepared to quit everything for the sake of her too.
Like how I feel about Ashlee.
“You okay?” Ashlee asks. Tugging at my finger as I stand by the front door, my keys in one hand as it hits me just how much of an asshole I’ve been.
“Better now,” I tell her truthfully, taking a moment to kiss her on the mouth, telling her how much I love her again, and squeezing her tight before I decide to pick her up and carry her inside after all.
Ashlee doesn’t mind at all, and I think deep down she’s a bit of a romantic. Enjoying being spoiled and having things done for her as well as to her.
I make a mental note of that, as well as remind myself to call Brett before the days through.
Life’s too short to lose the things that mean the most over the slightest differences.
Ashlee’s eager to have me show her around, but first things first, I tell her. I make a beeline for the biggest bathroom and set the tub to fill while I show her around.
Apart from wanting to spoil my woman with a bubble bath, I could use a soak myself.
“Most of it’s empty,” I confess, really only living in a section of the first floor.
She notices all the little things nobody else would.
The timber joinery on the staircase that I spent so much time on. The smoothness of another timber inlaid panel that I spent hours sanding by hand.
Things I’ve always been secretly proud of myself are the first things that catch her eye.
