meet you in there.”
The table was set perfectly with placemats and linen napkins, and she’d thankfully had the sense to put them at one end, next to each other. She’d even dimmed the chandelier overhead. He couldn’t escape the romance of it. Was she being kind? Or did she see the opportunity he was so eager to take? He really wanted the chance to redeem himself, or at least to know for certain whether they had any business being together.
“No candles?” he asked.
“Considering what happened yesterday, I thought it best we avoid fire.” She set down his plate before him and took the seat next to his.
“Smart.” He laughed quietly, holding up his wine glass. “A toast to everyone being safe and sound.”
She gently clinked her glass against his. “Thank goodness.”
He took a bite of the meal she’d prepared—succulent sautéed shrimp with bacon and scallions atop a cheesy, creamy substance that closely resembled porridge. “This is delicious. What is this mixture at the bottom of the dish?”
“They’re grits. I’m guessing you’ve never had them.”
He shook his head “Not once. They’re good.”
“It’s dried, ground corn. Put in enough butter and cheese and you’ll think you died and went to heaven. I practically grew up on them. They are, as my mother would say, dirt cheap.”
He studied her, considering what she’d said. “Is she a real bargain shopper?”
“She is, but it was a necessity, too. We never had much money and things got a bit dire after we had a fire.”
Now he was even more confounded. “No. A fire?”
She nodded and looked at him with an expression much like the one he’d seen her wear last night—vulnerable, but strong-willed. “Yes. We lost our house to one when I was ten.”
His heart seized up in his chest as she told him the story. Her family lost everything. It led to years of struggle. He couldn’t fathom that particular loss. She’d had such a potent reminder of it last night. Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand. The gesture was forward and intimate, but it was his only inclination. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I can only imagine what was going through your mind last night.”
“Last night is still a blur, but yes, it brought back a lot of bad memories. I don’t like to think about it too much or it’ll just make me sad. Nobody wants a sad houseguest.”
“You can be sad if you want to. You should allow yourself to process it.”
“I’ll process it a lot better once I meet with my new contractor on Monday.”
“Ready to jump back in already?”
“I have to move forward.” She shrugged. “I called the builder that I couldn’t get the first time around. Turns out their new office manager is a fan of the show. They’ve made room for me in their schedule. I made a bank transfer of ten grand for the deposit this afternoon. I guess that much is good.”
“If they treat you well and do a good job, then yes.” It hit him then—the reason she’d been so stubborn about her renovation. “No wonder you’re so attached to your apartment. You lost your home when you were a girl.”
She pushed the food around on her plate with her fork. “That’s a big part of it. When you grow up with nothing, especially not growing up in one place, you attach a lot of meaning to the idea of home.” She stopped speaking, seeming deep in reflection, then looked at him. “The apartment also means a lot because it’s the only tangible part of my success. Everything else about what I do is like air. It’s not like what you do. You make gin. You can hold on to a bottle of gin. Most of the time what I do doesn’t even seem real to me.”
That’s what she’d been doing all that time he was waging war against her. She hadn’t been wrapped up in material goods. She’d been defending her big-city, eleventh-floor homestead because it was the only thing she had. “I had no idea. You really should have said something. I knew you were from South Carolina, but the way you carry yourself, I had visions of money and a grand Southern home.”
A quiet snicker left her lips. “You watch too many movies. Scarlett O’Hara is a fictional character. And besides, she lived in Georgia.”
“What about your parents now? Has life gotten any better?”
“It has. With my job, I can finally help them financially. My dad had a stroke about five years ago, and my mother takes care of him full-time, so they need it.”
“No siblings to help?”
“I have two older brothers, and they help when they can, but they both work construction and have families. I just happened to be lucky enough to get a job that pays me more money than is probably reasonable.”
He was glad he wasn’t keeping track of the many ways in which he’d misjudged Ashley. He’d be losing, big time. “You’re an industry, Ashley George. I’ve witnessed it. Don’t diminish the appeal of you.” All he could think about was how great her appeal was to him. He wanted to kiss her so badly it was as if the devil was on his shoulder berating him to just do it.
Warmth colored her cheeks in a breathtaking rush of peach. “It’s very sweet of you to say that. I don’t understand the idea of me as an industry or appealing, but I’ll take it.”
“The thing that amazes me is how you manage to do everything you do. How do you fit it all into one day? You spend an awful lot of time taking care of everyone else.” A lump caught in his throat, one he found hard to get past. “I have to wonder who takes care of you.”
“I could ask you the very same thing.”
“I suppose you could.”
She took another sip of wine. “Now that I told you my whole life story, I feel like you have to tell me a little more about yours. Let me guess. You grew up in a castle.”
He laughed quietly. “Talk about watching too many movies. It was more of a Victorian townhouse in London. But it was a comfortable upbringing. I can’t think of a major trial in my life until, well, you know. Lila’s mother leaving us.” To his surprise, uttering the words didn’t bring the normal stabbing sensation in his chest. It was liberating to say it out loud and not feel crippled by it.
“No wonder it hit you so hard. The first time you encounter a big trauma in your life and it ends up being a doozy.”
He couldn’t help but notice how healing it felt to talk to Ashley, to have someone who knew his sad story really listen to him. She didn’t have an agenda outside trying to understand him better. “Indeed it did.”
She gathered her napkin in her hand and placed it next to her plate. “I should probably get to the dishes or it’ll be an hour until we can have cake.”
He got up from the table and took her dish. “I’ll help. We do not want to delay the arrival of cake.”
Ashley began collecting pots and pans while he loaded plates and cutlery into the dishwasher. He hadn’t done
