Page 74 of Pieces of Ash
“That isn’t even a…I mean, there’s no need…Gus! Really!”
He gives me a knowing look. “Oh, honey, justhave some fun. Damn, girl, if anyone deserves some fun, it’s you. And that boyis the very one to give it to you.” He grins. “If you know what I mean.”
I smack him on the arm, blinking at him with disapproval. “Oh, look! Jock’s waiting. Time for you to go!”
“I love you, baby doll,” he says, chuckling softly as he gives me a Gus-scented hug.
“I love you back,” I say, then wave goodbye from the porch steps as he and Jock drive away.
Instead of going in, I walk around the house, to the backyard, to see if I can help bring in any dirty dishes, but the picnic table is empty. All traces of our dinner party have already been cleaned up by the Ducharmes siblings.
I look up at the midnight sky, at the thousands of stars, and I wonder if Gus is right. What he saysfeelsright, but I feel very young and very small as I stare up at the universe.It’s not wrong to give yourself over to loving if the chance arises.
“We get beautiful night skies up here.”
I look over my shoulder and find Julian, tall, barefoot, and beautiful, walking toward me.
“Yes, you do,” I answer, giving him a shy and tentative smile before I turn my attention back upward.
My skin prickles with awareness. My lips tingle, remembering the insistent pressure of his. And elsewhere in my body, I clench hard, willing those deep-set tremors not to start up again right now. I want to believe what Gus has told me—that liking and wanting a man isn’t wrong—but it’s new to me, and I need a little time to marry my desire and conscience together.
“When I lived in DC, it was what I missed the most, besides Noelle. More than the cheese. More than the beer. More than the skiing.” He stops, standing beside me, staring up at the firmament. “I missed Vermont’s night skies. And the millions of stars.”
“I can see why,” I say. “When I lived in LA, I never saw stars.” I giggle. “I mean, I saw thepeoplekind, not the sky kind.”
“Who’s the most famous person you ever met?”
“Hmm. Maybe…Gigi Hadid…or Bella? Hmm… Or Cara Delevingne? Kate Moss mentored my mo—Tig for a while, um, and she knew Gisele, of course. Also?—”
“Wait a second! Gisele? Did you ever meet Tom Brady?” he asks, his voice eager.
“Let me guess.” I glance at his face. “Patriots fan?”
“The biggest.”
“Tig went to their wedding, but I never met him. Sorry,” I say, giggling as he lays a hand over his heart and pretends to cry. “Speaking of the rich and famous, Noelle tells me you met the vice president while you worked in Washington.”
“She did?” His teasing expression disappears quickly as he straightens, dropping his hand. “Uh, yeah. Long time ago.”
“Notsolong,” I say.
“Yeah, well…I guess it justfeelslike a while ago.” I wait for him to say more, hoping to learn why he left Washington so abruptly, but he stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “I’m tired. You must be exhausted.”
“At school, I was on the dining hall rotation, which meant cooking for one hundred souls regularly. Tonight was a breeze.”
“Your soup was amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“The lamb too.”
“Thank you again.”
“And the tart.”
“That was your sister. Let her know you thought so.”
“And the kiss.”
