Page 93 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

“It’s a classic case of opposites attract.” She stopped dancing, and her tone grew serious, matching my own tone. “She is the yin to your yang. The calm to your storm. The light to your darkness. The sun to your moon. It’s balanced duality. Contrasting forces.”

I stood silently, digesting the things that Fatima had just said. Even in her tipsy state, she was making sense.

“You know what I mean,” she continued, “she’s the peanut butter to your jelly. The salt to your pepper. The gravy to your mashed potatoes. The cheese to your macaroni. The bun to your hot do?—”

“I got it,” I cut her off.

“Now I’m hungry. I’m gonna hit the buffet table.”

I nodded as Fatima headed to the back of the room.

Was she right? Were Ashley and I so different that we were perfect for one another?

I thought about what life with her would be like. Her life was filled with clutter. Literally. That was how she lived. My life was clutter-free. She was passionate and fiery and brought out a side of me that I wasn’t even sure I liked. Around her, I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t control my base instincts. It was unnerving. How would that work?

Not that any of this was even worth deliberating. Ashley wasn’t interested in continuing our marriage. She didn’t wear her ring. No one, other than Nadia and the Comforts, knew that she was even married.

In just a few weeks, this entire thing was going to be over. I would officially be the majority shareholder of Wolfe Enterprises, and Ashley and I would be getting a divorce. I’d known this was going to be the outcome all along, but somehow, the thought of not sending her morning texts and checking in with her throughout the day, of not hearing her voice before she went to bed, of not making sure she had everything she needed, that she was taken care of, was not sitting right with me.

Would I have to go cold turkey? Was there a world where we could be friends? Is that what I wanted? Could we even be friends? What if she started dating someone?

Then I’d have to hear about her and another man. I’d rather get my balls tattooed than hear about another man touching her, kissing her, or hell, even just making her laugh or smile.

Why did she need love to be married? Why was that the end all be all in a relationship for her? Why couldn’t she see what a marriage could be without that?

Or maybe the question I should be asking myself is, why couldn’t I see what a marriage could be with that?

33

ASHLEY

“Thankyou so much for helping with all this.” Skylar patted Mason’s back, burping him as she held him against her shoulder.

“Don’t thank me yet.” I blew a stray strand of hair off my forehead as I opened the oven, pulled the bottom rack that the turkey was on, and inserted the thermometer into the thickest section of the thigh. “We don’t know how everything tastes.”

For some reason, Skylar had gotten it in her head that she needed to host Thanksgiving this year even though she’d given birth six weeks ago. Today, all of Hank’s siblings and their spouses were coming over. Since I’d become the default co-hostess-with-the-mostest, I had also invited Stella, Dorothy, and Fred to the occasion. They hadn’t arrived yet, but they were set to show up any minute. I invited Nadia as well, but she was spending the holiday on a cruise with a hot guy she’d met on an app.

“What can we do?” Reagan, who was married to Hank’s brother Billy, asked as she and Isabella, who was married to his youngest brother Jimmy, entered the kitchen.

“I think we’re just about ready in here,” I relayed after the number stopped at one hundred and seventy degrees, indicatingthe bird was cooked. I slipped on the novelty pinup girl oven mitts that read, Too Hot To Handle, that I’d given Skylar when we took a cooking class in Seattle for her twenty-fifth birthday, and lifted the turkey out of the oven then set it on the counter. “But you can corral the men to the table.”

Hank, his brothers, and his sister’s husband, Cash, were in the front room watching football.

“Don’t you want to wait for Stella, Fred, and Dorothy?” Skylar asked as I carried the turkey to the dining room so Hank could do the carving honors.

“No. Dorothy messaged me that they were running late and not to wait for them.”

I was happy that Stella had accepted my invitation and was going to be joining me for Thanksgiving since it was her first without her husband. Declan was out of town on business, and Derek was in rehab again. Skylar’s ex, Luna’s dad, had addiction issues, and I knew how hard it could be on the people closest to them. I sympathized with both Stella and Declan. Even if Declan wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, I could tell that he loved his brother, and his behavior and his illness hurt him.

Within about five minutes, everyone was gathered around the large farm table, which was filled with delicious-looking and smelling dishes. I had to admit I was proud of myself for the spread I’d managed to whip up, and by “whip up,” I mean slave over in the kitchen for the past three days, take four trips to the Piggly Wiggly, have two mini-meltdowns, and get up at five this morning. Hopefully, my efforts were not in vain. On the table, there were mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, two different stuffings, maple-glazed carrots, cornbread dressing, turkey, ham, macaroni and cheese, and two dozen dinner rolls made from scratch. For dessert, I made two pumpkin pies and two pecan pies, all from scratch. Did I mention that in addition to her wanting to host, Skylar was alsoon a ‘from scratch’ kick after binging Great British Bake Off while she was on modified bed rest.

I didn’t mind it, though, because I was definitely in my ‘wifey’ era, even though my wife status was really in title only. I had to admit over the past month, I did feel different. I felt domesticated, which was ridiculous, considering I wasn’t living with my husband. I wasn’t even wearing my ring, for the obvious reason that only a few people knew I was married.

I assumed that Jimmy had told Isabella that he’d performed the ceremony of our wedding, and all of the Comforts had seen Declan at the hospital the day Skylar gave birth, which meant they knew, but I trusted they would keep it to themselves.

Gossip spread around Firefly Island faster than a cold at preschool, but the Comforts followed the same rules asFight Club: you never talked about family. They fiercely protected their own and would never betray a confidence. Even though I wasn’ttechnicallyone of them, I was Comfort family adjacent.

As Hank did the honor of carving the turkey and everyone began filling their plates, I held out my hands to Skylar.

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