Page 113 of Pieces of Ash
JULIAN
Last weekend, when Ashley and I were in the tub and making love before the fire, when I shared my greatest shame with her, and she offered me absolution, I found new meaning in the path my life has taken.
And since then, I look at what happened in Cartagena not as a disgrace, but as a means to an end I would have chosen, given the chance. It got me here, to her. And for the first time since it happened, I am grateful for an episode of my life that I expected would always be painful.
Without my workspace available to me, this week has been one long vacation, and we have treated it as such.
We take long walks, hand in hand, to the pond.
We watch movies in French, curled up together on my bed, with Bruno at our feet.
We eat delicious dinners that Ashley makes for us, flirting with each other over candlelight and swapping stories about our lives.
We make love everywhere—in my bed, in hers, in my shower, in her tub, in front of the fireplace, and under the stars.
We ignore the fact that our time is finite…that Raumann’s arrival to take his bait means that these precious days will soon be over. Probably forever.
I try to enjoy every moment with her—to memorize her smiles and the way she says my name. I stare deeply into her eyes when she comes. I hold her close to me as we sleep.
If I think about her leaving, I will go crazy.
So I don’t.
And she doesn’t bring it up.
We are living in a fairytale world, my love and me.
But the day will come when, like a fragile piece of glass dropped to the ground, our world will shatter around us. Until then, we steal our piece of heaven, quietly hoping that the strength of our growing love can trounce the hounds of hell, knowing all the while that it can’t.
Nothing can hold back what is coming.
The knock on the front door is urgent, and Ashley, who is lying beside me in bed, sits up and looks at me.
“Who’s there?”
“Probably Simmons,” I say, reaching forward to pause our movie and tuck my gun in the back of my jeans. “I’ll go see.”
“I’m coming too,” she says, straightening her shirt. When she lies beside me, I like to push her shirt up and rest my palm on the warm, soft skin of her belly. I think she likes it too.
I kiss her quickly before slipping out of my room, just in time to hear another bang at the door.
“Coming!”
Sure enough, Simmons is standing on the front porch, and man, I hate the look on his face. I hate it so much, I can barely force myself to unlock and open the front door and screen. When I do, he rushes inside.
“It happened,” he says, looking back and forth between me and Ashley. “The gallery in Shelburne was broken into tonight.”
“When?” asks Ashley.
“Half an hour ago. Three men in ski masks. They ransacked the place.”
“You saw it?” I ask. “On the monitor?”
Simmons nods. “Yeah. Wasn’t pretty either. They trashed the place. And one of them spent a long time at Gus’s desk. He found the address. I watched him write it down, then make a call on his cell.”
Ashley gasps and takes a step back. “They’re coming.”
I put my arm around her. “It’s okay, baby.”
