“Are you ashamed to be seen with me, Irish?”
“No, I mean . . .” I turn to see a hint of hurt in his eyes. Never. “They won’t just let anyone in, though.”
He pulls into a spot. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Irish. They’ll let me in.”
“I, um, I brought someone. I hope—” I stare at Gale blankly. I don’t know what to say.
She looks from me to Ashton and she’s already shaking her head. Relief ripples through my body. I don’t think my emotions can handle a bunch of sick kids and Ashton at the same time.
But then he flashes that sexy crooked smile and those dimples. “Hi, I’m Ashton. I’m actually here on behalf of my father, David Henley of Henley and Associates.”
Whatever Gale was going to say fell out of her mouth. “Why, that’s fantastic! We’re so appreciative of your father’s contributions here. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Glancing from left to right, she says, “Normally we don’t allow visitors in there, but I can let it slide this time.”
“Great.” So not great.
“The twins are eager to see you, Livie.”
“I’ve missed them too.” Gesturing at my foot, I add, “I’m sorry about last weekend.”
“Oh, no worries. Glad to have you mobile. Have fun!” Waving her stack of folders in front of me, she says, “Back to work for me!” and strolls away in the opposite direction. She glances back once and, checking to see that Ashton has already turned and is walking toward the elevator, she winks at me, mouthing “wow.”
I feel my face blanch. Now everyone is going to think we’re together.
I catch up to him just as he hits the elevator button. “So you knew that dropping your dad’s name would get you in here?”
The charm from a moment ago has vanished, replaced by contempt. “At least it’s good for something.”
“That’s . . . nice of him to donate to the hospital.” Based on Gale knowing his name immediately, he must be a significant contributor.
“Tax savings. And for his image.” I look down to see him fingering the belt strap. I can’t help myself. I reach up and give his arm a squeeze.
The elevator doors open. Stepping in behind me, Ashton hits the floor button that I call out and murmurs, “It was either that or I take that nurse into a back room for a few minutes and—”
“Ashton!” I slap his forearm hard and flinch with the impact. Rowing has given him rock-solid everything. “Definitely a strike against your good traits.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t actually believe I’m serious, do you?” he says with a low chuckle.
“As a red sock on your door . . .”
A pained expression fills his face. “That night was to forget about you. With Connor,” he says softly. “And I haven’t done anything like that since.”
Do I believe him? “Why not?”
Turning to me with a heated gaze, Ashton’s hand lifts to cup my chin, his thumb stroking over my lip. “I think you know exactly why not, Irish.”
“Are you still with Dana?”
That hoarse tone is back, the one that makes my skin prickle. “What if I say no?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” I hesitate before asking, “Why did you say we can’t work?”
His lips part and I think I’m going to get an answer.
“Your tits look fantastic in that shirt.”
Not that answer.
He steps out of the elevator and holds the door while I hobble out, beet-faced. Typical Ashton evading. I bite my tongue and ignore him until we reach the playroom entrance.
A new wave of anxiety hits me, the same tightness in my chest that I feel every time I’m around these kids, only it’s amplified now. “Okay, there are a few ground rules before I let you near these sweet little boys.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“One”—I count on my fingers for emphasis—“no talking about death. No engaging in death talk, no hinting at death.”
His mouth slants into a tight-lipped frown as he nods. “No worries there.”
“Two—don’t teach them a bunch of bad words.”
“Aside from what they’ve already learned from you?”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Three—be nice to them. And don’t lie. They’re just little boys.”
A cloud passes over his face but he doesn’t say anything.
I push through the door to find the twins on the floor with their LEGOs. Eric looks up first. Nudging his brother, they scramble to their feet and walk over to meet me. It’s been two weeks since I last saw them and I note that they’re both moving a touch more languidly, their voices a little less chipper.
“Hey, you guys!” I say as I force the sudden knot of nerves down, hoping the change in them is just the chemo.
“What happened?” Derek asks, his hand gripping my right crutch.
“I tripped and sprained my ankle.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Eric asks, pointing at Ashton.
“Uh, no. He’s a friend. This is—”
“You’re friends with a boy?” Eric cuts me off.