Page 11 of His Weekend Wife

She laughed. “I once did.”

He patted her wrist and she stepped back. He was already leaning into the slats of the wood and pulling the zebra striped umbrella over the upper half of his body. Her throat constricted painfully as it did every time she visited with him. She’d tried many times to help him, get him set up in a homeless shelter, take him to a food kitchen for a hot meal, but he always refused. She felt she did so little by giving him a muffin, sometimes a cheeseburger or chicken nuggets, and a coffee after her shift.

She heard a rolling of thunder and quickly started down the street, glad she didn’t have far to walk.

An hour later, she was changed into fuzzy pajamas and standing on the balcony of her apartment, the only nice thing about the place. She breathed in the scent of rain, loving the clean smell. The showers had finally passed and the air was cool. In the distance, she watched the twinkling lights up and down the busy street, hearing the music flowing from the bar downstairs. Standing here, in her private world, she could get lost in the music and the fast-pace of the city. Across the street the door opened to the Chinese restaurant that stayed open late. A couple stepped out and headed down the sidewalk, hand in hand, laughing. Ash felt a teeny twinge in her chest.

Most evenings when she arrived home, she would hear the hustle and bustle of the wait staff, the cook continuing the orgy of a busy evening, yelling in Chinese at his staff. She relished the fact that she was done for the evening, and could now relax.

She smiled as she savored the fact that she would soon be starting her last quarter of graduate school. Pride built in her chest and she could barely contain the emotion. Growing up with an absent father and a mom who worked two jobs just to make ends meet, Ash had learned early on that she wanted things to be different for her and her younger sister, Abby. So, while all her friends were doing teenager things, including her sister who never had the same motivation as Ash, she drowned herself in her work, managing to get A’s all through high school. When she’d applied to college and received a full scholarship, Ash had jumped at the opportunity, believing her hard work was paying off. She’d gotten a job as a waitress, one of many since starting school, and lived on tips. Two years ago, she’d received her acceptance letter to graduate school and she’d been ecstatic, but it also meant that she would have to work more hours to survive.

Abby had gone to college too. But after the first year, she’d decided she wanted to become an actress. Ash had done everything to convince her gullible sister to stay in school and take on acting positions as they came, but stubborn and bull-headed Abby wanted to jump head first into an acting career. A year later, when Abby had become the starving artist with only two small jobs under her belt, she’d made another impulsive decision and started working at an upscale escort service to pay the bills.

Ash swirled the contents of her half-full wine glass and sighed. All through their childhood, into adulthood, she’d done her best to protect and help her little sister, but Ash had failed miserably.

Especially when Phillipe Diago came into the picture.

The handsome, smooth talking Italian could easily turn on the charm, but Ash had suspected his underlying intentions from the second Abby had brought him into the diner. In the first five minutes, Ash could see straight through the man’s facade and realized he was nothing but trouble. Yet, since it was never possible to convince her sister of right and wrong, when it came to the dashing Phillipe, it had only gotten harder. Abby was caught in a web of lust and she was thinking outside of logic.

Two weeks into their relationship, Abby was living with Phillipe. Not long after that, Abby’s daily calls to Ash had dwindled to weekly. Then monthly. Eventually, two months had passed since she’d seen or heard from Abby. Ash suspected something serious was going on, but the more she tried to help her sister, the more she was pushed away—and Ash didn’t doubt for a moment that Phillipe played a role in who Abby saw or socialized with.

All Ash could do was stay focused on success. She’d worked hard to overcome the obstacles placed on her as a child, and soon she would be reaping the benefits. Maybe then she could persuade her sister to move somewhere safer, somewhere away from Phillipe.

Ash understood how easy it was to get sidetracked by a whimsical delight.

Although, Declan had been more than a ‘whimsical delight’.

She rolled her finger around the rim of her glass, wishing she could forget him once and for all, but knowing that would never be possible. He’d swept into her life, like a blazing fire burning all her doubts and disappointment away in regard to relationships. She remembered clearly the first second she’d seen him, how weak in the knees she’d become, and how she thought she was going to pass out when she had to take his order. Although mesmerized by his good looks, she refused to get caught up in a dead-end relationship. She’d known a lot of men like Declan Knight. Rich, on the road to success, and charming. All they wanted a woman like Ash for was a short term hook up that could only end in disaster when he tired of her.

But she soon realized that Declan was different. After their first date, she knew this to be true. Soon, she had fallen in love. When he’d asked her to marry him, she’d answered, “Yes!”

Life changed. She was thrust into a world she had no clue about. Although she’d been aware that the Knight family had money, she didn’t realize just how much until Declan took her home to meet the family. They were all nice and had welcomed her, but the socialites at the fancy parties they attended were not quite as friendly. And soon the differences, or her insecurities, or maybe both, started weighing heavily on Ash. Declan wanted a trophy wife, one that looked good on his arm at social functions, yet she thought they should be like a ‘normal’ twenty-something couple. Eating pizza for dinner five days out of seven and watching low-budget movies. At first, that’s what they did, and they were happy. They even moved into a cheap apartment that never had properly working plumbing, but soon, Declan’s responsibilities became a priority.

He’d talked her into moving into the family’s mansion. Things took a downward spiral almost immediately.

Looking back, she was no longer even sure what the argument had sparked from that ended their marriage. She just remembered how painful and hard it had been, leaving her husband, their relationship, when she’d believed he was her heart and stars.

She gave her head a quick shake, dragging herself back to her average life living in a small apartment above a bar. She needed to forget Declan Knight. He was in the past, and she had to stay focused on the future.

The first thing she planned to do when she had her diploma in hand was to turn in her resignation at the diner. Oh, it could be worse, she was sure, but she couldn’t wait until she could help others as a social worker.

The second thing she wanted to do was to move out of the apartment that was the size of a broom closet. When she had absolutely nothing else to do, she’d go to open houses, getting an idea of what she’d want later, and what she could afford. She hoped for a small house on a quiet street, and maybe own a dog and a cat.

Lifting her chin, the breeze tangled in her hair. The chocolate strands, entwined with rich shades of gold highlights that didn’t need the help of dye, danced in the wind. She had high cheekbones and a rounded jaw, like her father, at least from the pictures she’d seen. She was often referred to as Snow White since her skin never tanned. She had to slather tons of SPF cream on when she was outside so she wouldn’t burn. Her mother, now in her fifties, was covered in dark freckles and warned her daughters that they had one chance to keep their skin healthy. Abby was also pale, and they resembled each other closely. Ash’s eyes were so blue that they were almost violet and changed with her mood, another physical attribute handed down from her father. Abby had clear blue eyes with a brown freckle in each.

Her heart panged. Lots of time had passed since their father had walked away. The only thing she really remembered about him was how he’d tell her, “Your eyes remind me of irises. Just like my mother’s.” Unfortunately, he hadn’t stuck around long enough for her to have a relationship with him.

Very few people knew just how intelligent Ash was, and that was just how she wanted to keep it. In fact, both she and Abby were smart women, at least their SAT scores showed it. Their mother used to tell them, “Use your brains for something more than a mass to fill your skull.” Ash had listened, oh brother had she listened. She’d witnessed firsthand how her mother would come through the door after twelve hours of back breaking work, feet swollen and her fingers bleeding. As Ash tended to her mother, wrapping the small cuts on her hands in bandages, she’d sworn that one day she’d make her mother proud. Oh, Ash was certain Abby had learned a lesson too, and probably why she’d wanted to make it big as an actress so she’d make lots of money and she’d never have to go hungry or live on beans and rice again. That was also why when her dreams of acting went sour, Abby had done the only other thing she knew how to do to make easy money—she’d used her beauty.

Shouting drew her attention to the street. Two men stood toe-to-toe, chest to chest, bumping each other as if they were two bulls rooting for their territory. Wistfully, she left the balcony and went inside of her gloomy apartment, shutting the glass door and blocking out the noise. Inside of the galley kitchen, she poured more wine, then went into the living room where she switched on the TV and surfed the channels for something engaging to watch. She finally settled on a documentary about the deaths of hundreds of wild animals in Africa.

A commercial came on and her gaze was automatically drawn to the calendar nailed to the wall. She concentrated on the date circled in red. The first day of her last quarter. Excitement rolled through her at the concept. Six years of college, a number of hours volunteering at the local counseling clinic, and endless nights of studying the books while her friends partied—nothing had really changed since high school. Abby had once called her a loner, but Ash couldn’t begin to explain how much she wanted to reach her goals, above anything else. Soon she’d be free from a life of cramming for tests and exams, and the high expectations she’d placed upon herself to finally reach the accomplishments she’d wanted. Abby had always been sucked in by immediate rewards instead of seeing the larger picture. Ash had always been independent, something she’d struggled for over the years, even when she gave into to her whim and married Declan. On several occasions in the past ten years, she had taken time off from school to take care of her mother, but she’d always gotten back on the horse with her schooling. Many of her college friends had given in, both to marriage and to having kids. At twenty-nine, Ash had dreams too. She’d made a few mistakes along the way, but she’d grown from them and moved on, determined to escape the life of the past.

Soon she would have the rest of her life ahead of her. Would she stay in Atlanta? Would she move away to another state, another city where no one knew her name? She could even treat herself and take a mini vacation, mini because that would be all that her meager savings would allow. After she helped pay her mother’s expenses for the month, she had little cash left.

Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, she covered her shoulders and snuggled deeper into the cushion. She should go to bed, but many nights she stayed on the sofa, watching TV until sleep finally overcame her.

Alone, in bed, always conjured images of the passionate nights she’d spent with Declan. Words couldn’t describe how he’d made her feel. How he’d taken her to a new level of emotion each time he touched her, kissed her, made love to her. He was the one and only man she’d ever loved. Her first and only lover. He’d branded her soul with his stamp and she didn’t think it was possible to ever allow another man to get anywhere close to filling his spot.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. She swore she’d never cry again over a man who didn’t deserve her. For a while, she’d allowed herself to be caught up in what he was doing, or rather, who he was doing. The pictures on the local tabloid newspapers always told a story of him partying with one young model after another. Ash doubted he spent any of his nights thinking of her, or that they were still married—a little hiccup she’d have to take care of when she had the extra money.

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