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“Huh?” I jumped, turning my attention to Ashton.
“How did you meet Chance?” He sat back in his chair, a wide grin on his face.
“Well, a formal introduction was made while on a video chat with one of our mutual friends.”
Chance rested his hand on my thigh, circling my leg with his thumb. “She’s the reason I’ve settled down.”
“When’s the wedding?” Ashton leaned up, propping eagerly on the table.
Chance tensed suddenly, taking a deep breath. Ashton’s eyes darted to me as he smiled. Not sure how to react to such a blunt question from a stranger, I giggled nervously. The question was never answered. Instead, Chance changed the topic.
The rest of the visit was them catching up and Ashton asking me questions about myself, trying to include me in the conversation. He was considerate and adorable. Chance, however, clammed up. It was as if he forgot I was there. I was excited to meet Ashton because he’d been such a huge part of Chance’s life for a time. He was a genuinely polite and pleasant person.
The one-hour drive back to Malibu was quiet for the first half. He was upset because I was silent. I didn’t want to start an argument, but I also felt hurt that he acted like I was invisible at lunch, leaving a guy I’d never met to entertain me with unnecessary questions. If it hadn’t been for Ashton’s quick observation and casual way of including me, it would’ve been miserable.
Eyes watering, I stared out the window, fighting my emotions. A small squeak escaped my lips as I wiped a tear off my cheek.
“Hey,” he reached over, placing his hand on my leg, “are you crying?”
“Nooo,” my voice cracked.
“We need to talk when we get home, then.”
I remained silent. My response was childish, but trying to talk while crying would only make me more upset. I wasn’t mad that he froze when asked about marriage. It was that he practically ignored me through the meal after that. To the point that Ashton noticed.
“Why are you so upset?” he demanded an answer.
Folding my arms over my chest, I shifted in my seat, glaring. “Are you actually serious? How do you not know why I’m upset?”
Shrugging, he remained focused ahead. “I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
Without another word, I turned toward the window. I stifled my tears, concentrating on other things to keep from sobbing for the next thirty minutes, until we pulled into the garage.
Stomping up the stairs to the door, I pressed the code. Marching through the mudroom, I turned the corner, sprinting up the back staircase to the bedroom. I tossed my bag on a chair in the middle of the room, then fidgeted with my earrings, trying desperately to remove them. I was suddenly aware of their weight, and it was becoming unbearable. I laid them on the dresser and heard Chance enter the bedroom.
“When were you planning to tell me that you were quitting?!” he barked.
“What?!” I spun around on my heels, lifting the corner of my lip in confusion. “Quitting what?”
“Dancing?” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he arched a brow. “You love dancing.”
Shaking my head with uncertainty, I chewed on my bottom lip.
“Still have no idea?” He sighed, burying his head in his palm. “You told Simone you weren’t going to dance much longer.”
Taking a deep breath, I realized I mentioned that aloud, and it made him weird at the club. “I want to focus on training other dancers and not actually performing.”
“Oh.” He became silent, averting his gaze to the floor.
“I would never just quit my job, forcing you to take care of me.” I huffed. “Don’t worry, I’m not a gold digger.”
“What?! I never said you were!” He marched to the walk-in closet, probably still in physical pain, slamming the door.
Following him, I threw the door open, leaning into the threshold, enveloping my arms over my stomach. He removed his shirt, hurling it across the room before his focus lowered to something sticking out of the side of his bag. Reaching down, he pulled out a small, folded sheet of paper.
“Is that why you don’t want to marry me?” I blurted, terrified of his answer.
He ignored me, staring at the paper.
